Gray looks back at the screen he’s dealing with. “He’s miserable, that’s all.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“And you’re his friend?”
“You could say that.”
“And you haven’t bothered asking?”
He looks back at me sharply, enough malice in the stare that I dare say the world withers under it. I don’t. Not now. Years ago maybe in my naivety, but fear and me, short of planes, don’t merge in the same way that they used to.
Especially not when this sort of crap is going down around me.
“Malachi isn’t easy to deal with,” Hannah cuts it. “He never gives over what is actually going through his head. If he’d just talk it might help, but he doesn’t.”
My face doesn’t turn from Gray through any of that. I saw the panic in his face when he was dealing with a near fucking dead body. And I also watched as Malachi was heaved up onto his shoulder and he rushed us through this castle to get us to this room. I’ve never seen a man so focused on getting something achieved, regardless of the weight he was carrying. He was scared, fearful, and full of emotion about what was going on with his so called friend. And he’s been like a fucking doctor this whole time since, too, as if he knows all about drugs and death and concoctions.
“Is this your fault, Gray?” I ask. His brows pinch in, a long fucking sigh coming, as his hands stall on the keyboard he’s pissing around with. “Some friend you are.”
“That’s not fair,” Hannah says. “You don’t know anything about this.”
My gaze slants to her, watching as she tries to get in front of him.
“No, she’s right, Hannah. If it wasn’t for me then this never would have happened.”
“He’s not a child, Gray. He makes his own decisions. We all do. This isn’t your fault.”
The glasses he’s wearing get slung on the table and he stands, hands in his pockets as he looks over Malachi’s perfectly still frame. I don’t know how I feel about that. I shouldn’t feel anything about anything. Hannah’s right, I don’t know about all this. I’m an outsider, someone who was brought here for nothing but the chase. Unfortunately for me, I can still feel Malachi swimming through me, still feel the sadness that was there. It’s low now, barely any real impression of feeling at all, but I can still sense it somewhere inside me.
“Why can I feel him?” I ask, picking up my coffee.
There’s a pause in the air, as Gray thinks about answering me. It goes on too long for my liking, making me question whether whatever comes out of his mouth will be truthful or not.
“The pills bind you together for a while if you’re lucky. Like a …” he shakes his head. “It’s difficult to explain. They’re supposed to be short lived. Just an enhancing experience. Sometimes they lag. It all depends on your particular synapses and how they communicate.” Well, that’s reasonably enlightening. Or would be if I a fucking clue what he was talking about. “I can give you something to get rid of it if you want.”
The last of it makes me stiffen. I don’t know why about that either, but it feels like he’s asking me if I want part of me removed. I don’t. But the very thought of that is ridiculous. Whatever it is that I’ve ingested, was given to me without my consent by the very man I’m now seemingly concerned about. It’s a head fuck. A freaky fucking place that my head’s in, as it tries to find sense in irrational responses.
“Why do you know so much about all this?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer. He looks back at Hannah instead. “Call Faith.” She lifts her chin and folds her arms over each other, feet staying fixed to the spot rather than bending to the tone of his voice. “I’m not fucking arguing about this. Call her. Now.”
“No.” All our gazes shoot to the voice coming from the bed. He’s perfectly still. No movement at all. We stare, as if questioning if something actually came out of his mouth or not, until Gray moves closer to him.
“Malachi?” he says.
No response. Just a picture of pale for him skin and muscles under a sheet.
I stand and walk over, eyes searching for anything that might have changed in the last few minutes. Nothing has that I can tell. He’s still quiet. Eyes still closed. Chest rising and falling subtly. But why the fuck am I smiling the closer I get? What is that?
My shoulders shrug, neck clicking around to make sure I’m not falling off the planet into a world of drugs again. Freaky. But I gaze on, unable to deny the very real sense of relief that’s swarming through me for some reason. It’s consuming me, making me feel lighter than I have done since he dropped to the floor in the shower.
“Is he awake?” Hannah asks, creeping closer.
Gray moves closer and lifts up one of his eyelids, getting his torch out in the same breath.
I don’t need a torch. “Yes. He is. Stop playing, Malachi.”
