A Cage for Hungry Hearts [COMPLETE]

43. Winston

The clock on my nightstand says it's zero-six hundred hours when I emerge from the bathroom. At Lynn's insistence, I'd injected myself with a sedative, but—like a dumbass—I'd fallen asleep on the damp floor mat rather than go to my bed. Now I've got a crick in my neck and an aching back. They go along nicely with the stabbing pain in my stomach. But leaving the bathroom meant facing Domare yesterday, and I wasn't ready to see the pain on his face. Now that I've gotten him to make the promise, maybe he'll be relieved to have me out of his hair.

He's not in our room now, not even in his coffin. I need a tracker for the fool. He never keeps normal hours, not even for a vampire. He just comes and goes as he pleases. He's such a brat. He's probably hassling Dave for coffee right now, and he'll be back any minute to sip loudly at a steaming cup of Blood Chai while he pouts at me for being such a frail mortal. I hope he's kind enough to bring me a Cherry Murder. I may have just puked up more blood than I think most human bodies contain, but one of those sugary drinks sounds divine. I could stand to have something good, even if its something as small and insubstantial as coffee.

I guess I'll solve the mystery of the afterlife long before my brother does. Ollie was always super obsessed with ghosts. If I become one, I can write him messages in foggy mirrors. I can tell him all the secrets of being dead, and he can write a book and get rich off the inevitable movie adaptation. Or maybe I'll be stuck in PLUTO, in eternal limbo, so I can haunt Domare. I swear if I get trapped in this fucking place even in death, I'm gonna go full poltergeist. My wails will put any banshee to shame. I bet there are lots of ghosts here anyway. We can hang out, shoot the breeze, raise Cain. Then they can tell me how many of them died at Domare's hands. Maybe I'll even get to see Alexander again.

Christ, I need a drink.

I wonder how a Cherry Murder would taste with a shot of Jack Daniels.

"Someone in this shithole has gotta have alcohol," I mutter, slipping on some shoes so I can pad out into the hall. A Nexian is posted nearby.

"You're pale as a ghost, DeBrock," he jokes.

I laugh bitterly. "Halfway there!"

The hall tilts to the left. I guess I don't need to be drunk to feel off-kilter. Somehow or other, I make it to the lounge. Domare isn't there. Despite the few concerned glances I garner, Dave hands me a Cherry Murder without a fuss.

"You alright?" he asks.

"Dying actually," I say with a forced smile, "but that's alright. Life sucks anyway."

He starts to ask another question, but I turn away before he can voice it, carrying my drink from the room. I don't feel like talking to anyone. Hell, I don't even want to talk to Domare. Maybe I should go back to avoiding him, but I can't decide. I take a lap around the fifth deck to think it over. That's how I find something off.

A door ajar.

And a raised voice coming from inside.

"Are you insane?" Krishna snarls. "You can't have him here! Hazel will tear us apart! What the hell are you thinking?"

"I can do whatever I want, bat. Fuck off."

That's...that's Michael's voice.

I should leave. I should. This isn't my business, but...

I have a bad feeling.

I creep up to the doorway and peek inside.

My heart squirms in my chest.

In the room, there is a bed, and there are two people in it.

One of them's not Krishna.

I suck in a sharp breath.