Page 13 of The Wickedness of Man
I tuned him out. Something in my gut—other than the beer I’d had the night before—was wrenching my insides. In the office above, the doctor stood and strode to the window. I turned my camera lens up to her, and for a long, horrible moment, I could feel her gaze finding mine. Watching me watchherfrom my perch. But it was impossible—I was nearly half a mile away.
“This is it.” I stared at her through the lens. “The evidence?—”
The mask she’d held in place so carefully for two weeks—she’d finally let it slip just a little; like this girl was a kind of…victoryfor her. Our eyes met once more, and without warning, Dr. Lowe smirked at me, winked, and closed her blinds. The office went dark.
“No,” I whispered.
“Hey man, what’s going on over there?” demanded Home.
My brain was sprinting to try and work things out.
This was no mere coincidence—I knew better than to ignore the little urgency inside of me. There was something about that girl showing up that I knew was important. At any moment, the proof we needed to bring this demon in could be taking place and we would missall of it. Worse still was the thought of the woman with the beautiful smile getting hurt. I wouldn’t let thathappen. I had to get to her. I had to get to her even if it meant disobeying a direct order.
Even if it would mean getting thrown in the cells when I got back.
Without even a second thought, I found myself running to the bathroom, haphazardly throwing on my clothes, gargling with some mouthwash to get rid of the awful acrid taste in my mouth. I slipped my gun into the holster under my left arm beneath my suit jacket, then checked my extra clips and put them into my pocket.
“What are you doing? What’s going on?” demanded Home from the tinny speakers on the phone.
I froze, having forgotten for a moment he was still on the call. I pulled my shoes on.
“…I’m going in.”
“The hell you are! Investigators only, remember? You can’t?—”
“I’m burned,” I said with finality.
“What? How?”
“Look, the girl could be in trouble. If I’m already burned, then maybe I can at least get whatever proof we might need while I’m there?—”
“No, you can’t.” Home’s tone changed from worried to serious. “If you’re burned, you’re done. Get out.”
“No can do, my guy,” I said. “When you talk to Jax, tell him if they don’t hear from me by tonight, I’m probably dead.”
“No, stop, you fucking idiot?—”
I hung the phone up, tossed it on the ground, and stomped the shit out of it until its electronic guts were shattered and smeared all over the floor. Then, I took off, camera bag in hand, leaving the door unlocked. There was nothing in there except the phone that would connect the apartment to anyone from the organization, and now that I was burned, I couldn’t come backhere anyway. I hurried down the stairs. I don’t know how she knew, but she knew.
AllIknew was, if she laid a finger on that woman, I didn’t care what the higher ups wanted her for. I didn’t care if they wanted her dead or alive. I didn’t care what kind of demon she was, either. If she touched one hair on my woman’s head, I would rip her to shreds.
Magda
It took everything inside of me to watch Katie drive away without chasing after her and begging her to let me get back in the car so we could forget about this whole silly matter. Only, it wasn’t asillymatter. No one who panics to the point of vomiting when their boyfriend tries to have pleasant, planned, consensual sex on their anniversary is dealing with a “silly” problem. I forced myself to march inside with a rueful sigh, and then made my way over to the elevators. I didn’t think Katie was wrong in trying to find help for me, but making this decision for me was…
Well, it wasn’t her place, but try explaining that to Katie.
My parents threatening to revoke my freedom if they discovered I wasn’t a virgin; my ex-boyfriend dumping me at my party; my best friend forcing me to attendtherapyas a birthday gift.
Everyone else seemed to know exactly what was right for me… except no one ever asked me whatIthought.
I’d spent my entire life doing what other people wanted, afraid to say no. Afraid to tell someone the truth. Maybe I just wanted the chance to work things out for myself? Maybe sexwasoff the table for me. Or maybe, I just… I sighed, deflating. I didn’t know. I didn’t know what I wanted, only what Ididn’twant.I clenched my hands together, then steeled myself for what I certain was going to be an unbearably awkward therapy session.
There was a directory on the wall, and I easily found Intimate, Inc.’s offices listed on the eighth floor. In fact, it was the only office on the whole of the eighth floor, unlike the others, which all share multiple doctor’s offices or businesses.
The entire elevator ride up, I kept thinking about how stupid this whole idea was, simultaneously trying to convince myself that even if itwassomething I was doing to appease other people, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be helpful. Maybe if I could get over my trauma, I could have a normal sex life. Maybe even try to work things out with Danny? Could I just benormal?Part of a lovey-dovey couple? The type of person who could hold hands with her boyfriend in public. The type of woman who could explore her lover’s body as eagerly—and often—as she pleased.
And oh, did I want to.
