The Deaths of Me (NEW ADULT REWORK)

9. Rory's Dangerous Fascination

The only normal people are the ones you don't know very well.

~Joe Ancis

Rory was quiet during most of the trip on the bus that took them to the outskirts of downtown Atlanta. Dane didn't push her, but he did look over at her much more than seemed normal. She continued to fiddle her thumbs and think about as little as possible until Dane gently announced their arrival at the shopping center.

She'd refused his offer to take her shopping and had resorted to wearing a few of his old clothes. She'd feel more comfortable with Ivy helping her pick out a new wardrobe, she was sure of it. So, to face the world in the meantime, she wore a red and white baseball shirt and some cut-off jean shorts that Dane said he hadn't been able to fit in a year or so.

Rory didn't have any shoes, and no one in the pack had been particularly forthcoming in offering to let her borrow something of their own, so Dane had loaned her a pair of his clunky hiking boots as well. They looked like they'd stomped a mud monster to death, and she had to walk like a ghoul as she exited the bus. Generally, she liked them.

"I didn't expect yer feet to be so teeny." He smiled bashfully, and Rory made an admirable attempt at not letting it affect her.

"Not all of us were born with boats for feet," Rory snapped back in a friendly manner. Dane laughed to himself as he eyed the store they'd just passed. And then, he gushed over a pizzeria that slid by them as they strolled past it. He promised her that he'd take her to the pizzeria, since they evidently made the best cheese-sticks around. The sign even said so.

His fingertips rolled across the glass window of the restaurant as he made note of the fact that most of the stores around this area were run by Underdwellers. Rory tried to see inside the restaurant to catch a fairy working the register, or a sprite serving pizza, but Dane was already striding further down the street.

Her mind was, of course, captivated by the tall buildings and the overflow of people. Atlanta felt like an alive city to her. Laughter, car horns, and waves of smells from spices and meats. How could Dane just walk around as if none of it resonated with him?

"Can I ask you something?" they asked in unison as they turned toward each other. Rory coughed out a meek laugh and gave a vague gesture to allow him to go first.

"How did you know that someone was going to get you out of there?" His gaze moved over to her, almost nervously, as if he were afraid that he'd crossed a line. "I just remembered, you said that you knew I'd come."

She nodded. Involuntarily, flashes of the time spent in that place assaulted her like photos of a crime scene—gruesome and detailed. She swallowed the panic in her throat and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before she answered. "My uncle told me that if anything ever happened to me, the treaty would be put to use."

"Your guardian—I mean, uncle—is the one who passed away?"

Rory felt her lungs constrict at his phrasing. "Yes," she began, shoving her hands into her pockets, "He was murdered the night I was kidnapped. I didn't see it, but—" The words 'passed away' sounded so innocent and gentle. Uncle Mattleby had deserved to pass away, to breathe out a quiet, forgiving goodbye with Rory holding his hand. She bit back the small steel ball that had risen in her throat, and blinked away the sting in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Rory." Even though she wasn't looking at him, she knew that his eyes were trained on her. She didn't jump when she felt his cool hand slip into hers. In fact, she squeezed it, grateful that he wasn't judging her. She'd had enough of being appraised. When his hand fell out of her hold, she wrapped her arms around herself.