Page 121 of On Edge

Moving quickly, I crouch down in front of him to unbutton his shirt. My fingers keep fumbling, and undressing him while he’s out of it feels so very wrong, but I manage. His skin is hot under my fingers as I peel his shirt back to reveal the key chain around his neck, and…every single one of his scars.

There are so many. And each one is painted in ink. Every intricate design of his tattoos hides some snarl, some twist of his flesh in a way that makes it beautiful. On his left shoulder is a jagged scar that looks like it was once deep and violent, and thenon his right side, buried under his ribs, is an old puncture wound that must have hurt. Handshaking, I reached out and run my fingers over it.

“What the hell are you doing?” Troy slurs, dragging his eyes open.

I stumble back and hit the desk.

He blinks at me, a curl to his lips, and then grabs me, pulling me onto his lap. “Are you taking advantage, little finch?” he mumbles into my ear.

“I-I thought you were asleep.” Despite my racing pulse screaming at me to run, my insides melt at his touch.

“It’s going to take more than poison to keep me from you,” he drawls, inhaling my neck.

“It’s not poison.” My words are barely a whisper.

His arm locks tight, holding me close. “Then you’d better run when I wake up.”

But I can’t move. Can’t pull away from the way he’s holding me…

Like I’m already lost to him.

Because I am.

It’s only a matter of time.

When he well and truly has passed out, I slip the cold weight of the swan key from his neck. And then I ease myself from his grasp. But as I extract myself, his words tear me apart as they go round and round in my head. I don’t know what to think anymore.

After I turn the volume back up on the speaker, I glance back, my eyes finding him unconscious in the chair. He’s so vulnerable right now, and yet dangerous, even when dead to the angels. I could kill him right now, but something cracks in my chest, snuffing that thought out like a candle in a storm.

He tried to save her.

What if he isn’t lying?

The music screams on as I clutch the key in my hand and leave him there in the gloom.

The swan keyfits perfectly in the secret pantry door. I turn it and then open it wide. It’s a bit dingy inside, but there are two passages, each going in the opposite direction. I walk further in, taking a left turn first, using my phone as a torch.

The air hits me cold and damp as I round the corner and come to a set of concrete stairs that lead down into the earth.

It’s a short descent—just a few steps to a stone archway, with a swan carved into the lintel.

The air is warm through here and gets warmer and thicker as I get to the bottom. I inhale slowly, trying to remember to keep breathing. But the air clings with the scent of wet wood, damp earth, and something sharper…metallic.

I know I should go back.

But, ironically, it’s fear that pulls me forward.

Gripping thestone of the archway like an anchor, I inch inside. A shiver spills through me, trailing over my spine, lighting every nerve as my torch reveals rows of metal hooks hanging from a wooden beam. Dead birds—pheasants—sway from them, trussed up on chains.

It’s a game larder.

We had one at our summer house, back when we had an extra house to summer in. My father liked disappearing inside it during the long evenings, curing bacon and gammon for the family Sunday roast. This was before he lost everything in gambling debt. Back then, the smell of it reminded me of an abattoir, cloying in the back of my throat. This place reeks the same, like a butcher’s block left to rot, heavy with the stink of old meat and rusted iron.

In the middle of the room, just like ours, is a thick, brick curing table, though my gut tells me it isn’t for making bacon.The marble on top is stained dark. And something drips slowly and steadily off it into a drain on the floor. The soft, wet splatter makes my stomach twist.

At the far end, a door to another room about seven feet square. There’s a light switch by the door. I throw it, and a single bulb flares to life overhead, casting shadows that twist across stone walls.

In the corner is a chest freezer.