in front of some guy dressed like Elvis, and swear that we’ll be together until we die? You think that’s a good alternative to turning my friend over to the Union?”
He wasn’t listening. “Betty would have thought it was romantic. She always wished that she had eloped with her ex-husband at a casino instead of spending so much money on an outdoor wedding with three hundred guests.”
“Yeah. But Betty is dead.”
Anger clouded his face. “What is wrong with you?”
“I’ve told you that I don’t believe in making that kind of commitment, and I won’t keep repeating myself.”
“Oh yeah? Well, what about you and James?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What about James?”
“I caught what McIntyre said about kopides and aspides. ‘More fatal than family, more permanent than marriage.’ Those were the words, right?”
“It’s just some witch thing,” Elise said.
“But that’s what it is.” The volume of his voice increased with every word. His cheeks were red. “It’s permanent. Getting an aspis is the biggest commitment you can make as a kopis. So why is it you don’t want to talk about getting married? Is it because you’re not ready for it, or because you’re not into polygamy?”
“This conversation is moronic. I just found out that my friend murdered someone, lied to me, and let me take the blame with the Union,” she said in a measured tone. “At some point, I’m going to have to go tell them what he did. You think this is the time to talk about marriage?”
His mouth worked soundlessly. He stepped off the stairs onto the dirt, fists clenched tight.
“It will always be something. It will always be zombies, or giant spiders, or a murder, or the end of the goddamn world . It will never be a good time to talk about marriage. You want to put it off for now? Fine. But you owe me some kind of answer.”
“Anthony,” Elise said, “I don’t owe you anything. Not one goddamn thing.”
He stalked off, got in Leticia’s car, and slammed the door. It occurred to her, distantly, that it was her only way back to Silver Wells, and that she should probably stop him. But she didn’t move except to pick up the UKA earpiece.
The car kicked up dirt on its way out, trailed by a cloud of dust rising over the sagebrush. A hot wind blew it into her face.
But then it was gone, and she was alone.
Elise went inside and searched the kitchen. She had drunk all of McIntyre’s beer, but there was a hidden stash of tequila kept on a high shelf where Dana wouldn’t be able to reach. She threw the cap in the trash, took the bottle outside, and sat down to get wasted as the sunlight faded.
Anything was better than facing the Union again.
She reclined against the railing and started drinking.
A s the sun dropped, the sky turned orange and pink, and then violet. By the time violet faded to navy blue, the tequila was half-empty, and Elise was dozing on the stairs. The security light over the porch turned on. The cat slunk past the stairs, shooting a dirty look at her as it ducked under the trailer.
She hauled herself to a standing position with the help of the railing. Elise was unsteady on her feet, but it was a long walk to the road. She had plenty of time to sober up.
She had just climbed onto the steps when the light bulb over the porch flickered, and then died.
Pain lanced through her hand, and she hissed, jerking it away from the railing.
Blood oozed through her glove, but it wasn’t from a splinter driving through her hand. The air buzzed as though swarmed with flies.
She turned around, and came face to face with Nukha’il.
It took her a moment to realize that the tequila and heat hadn’t turned her delusional. He was composed, untouched by the heat, but utterly tangible. He wore a black suit with a red vest and black tie, which would have been appropriate for a wedding—or a funeral. His irises were a shade of pale blue that was almost white.
His wings were hidden. He looked like an
He wasn’t listening. “Betty would have thought it was romantic. She always wished that she had eloped with her ex-husband at a casino instead of spending so much money on an outdoor wedding with three hundred guests.”
“Yeah. But Betty is dead.”
Anger clouded his face. “What is wrong with you?”
“I’ve told you that I don’t believe in making that kind of commitment, and I won’t keep repeating myself.”
“Oh yeah? Well, what about you and James?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What about James?”
“I caught what McIntyre said about kopides and aspides. ‘More fatal than family, more permanent than marriage.’ Those were the words, right?”
“It’s just some witch thing,” Elise said.
“But that’s what it is.” The volume of his voice increased with every word. His cheeks were red. “It’s permanent. Getting an aspis is the biggest commitment you can make as a kopis. So why is it you don’t want to talk about getting married? Is it because you’re not ready for it, or because you’re not into polygamy?”
“This conversation is moronic. I just found out that my friend murdered someone, lied to me, and let me take the blame with the Union,” she said in a measured tone. “At some point, I’m going to have to go tell them what he did. You think this is the time to talk about marriage?”
His mouth worked soundlessly. He stepped off the stairs onto the dirt, fists clenched tight.
“It will always be something. It will always be zombies, or giant spiders, or a murder, or the end of the goddamn world . It will never be a good time to talk about marriage. You want to put it off for now? Fine. But you owe me some kind of answer.”
“Anthony,” Elise said, “I don’t owe you anything. Not one goddamn thing.”
He stalked off, got in Leticia’s car, and slammed the door. It occurred to her, distantly, that it was her only way back to Silver Wells, and that she should probably stop him. But she didn’t move except to pick up the UKA earpiece.
The car kicked up dirt on its way out, trailed by a cloud of dust rising over the sagebrush. A hot wind blew it into her face.
But then it was gone, and she was alone.
Elise went inside and searched the kitchen. She had drunk all of McIntyre’s beer, but there was a hidden stash of tequila kept on a high shelf where Dana wouldn’t be able to reach. She threw the cap in the trash, took the bottle outside, and sat down to get wasted as the sunlight faded.
Anything was better than facing the Union again.
She reclined against the railing and started drinking.
A s the sun dropped, the sky turned orange and pink, and then violet. By the time violet faded to navy blue, the tequila was half-empty, and Elise was dozing on the stairs. The security light over the porch turned on. The cat slunk past the stairs, shooting a dirty look at her as it ducked under the trailer.
She hauled herself to a standing position with the help of the railing. Elise was unsteady on her feet, but it was a long walk to the road. She had plenty of time to sober up.
She had just climbed onto the steps when the light bulb over the porch flickered, and then died.
Pain lanced through her hand, and she hissed, jerking it away from the railing.
Blood oozed through her glove, but it wasn’t from a splinter driving through her hand. The air buzzed as though swarmed with flies.
She turned around, and came face to face with Nukha’il.
It took her a moment to realize that the tequila and heat hadn’t turned her delusional. He was composed, untouched by the heat, but utterly tangible. He wore a black suit with a red vest and black tie, which would have been appropriate for a wedding—or a funeral. His irises were a shade of pale blue that was almost white.
His wings were hidden. He looked like an
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