Page 86 of Savage Hearts

When he shakes a few pills from different bottles into the palm of his hand and holds it out to me, I look at the pills with trepidation.

“How do I know what these are?”

“Because I told you what they are.”

“Yeah, but you also just told me you were going to kill me all along. I can’t trust you now.”

With exaggerated patience, he says, “Take the fucking pills.”

I grudgingly hold out my hand. He dumps the pills into it and pours water from a carafe on the nightstand into the glass next to it. Then he holds it out to me with a look like I’ll be in trouble if I say another word.

So of course I have to.

“Okay, but if I wake up dead, I swear I’ll come back to haunt you.”

“I’m really starting to regret that I saved your life.”

Smiling at his glower, I pop the pills into my mouth and accept the glass of water he holds out to me. I swallow all the pills in one big gulp. “Ugh. I think that big white one got stuck in my throat.”

“That’s the cyanide. You won’t be worried about your throat in a second because you’ll be dead.”

“See, you can’t do that now. I don’t know whether or not you’re joking!”

“Look at my face. This is my joking face.” His expression is absolutely serious.

“Oh my god. I just realized something.”

“What?”

“You’re a jerk.”

One corner of his mouth lifts. “Not too quick on the draw, are you?”

“At least I’m not a jerk.”

He stares at me silently, his eyes warm. I think he wants to smile, but I’m not sure he knows how to.

Then he stands and leaves me alone, telling me before he goes that he’ll be back as soon as he can.

When he returns that evening, he’s covered in blood.

TWENTY-SIX

RILEY

I don’t notice it at first because it’s dark outside, there are no lights on inside, and I can’t see more than a few feet in front of my face without my specs. But when he comes into the bedroom and starts lighting the candles that are all over the place, then sits down on the bed beside me, I notice his hands.

“What is that?”

He looks at the dark, rust-colored smear on the back of one hand and tries to wipe it on his coat sleeve. When it doesn’t work, he chooses to simply ignore my question.

“Here. This should be enough to find a match.” He sets a bulky pillowcase on my lap.

“What’s in this?”

“You’d know if you looked.”

I pull it open and peer inside, surprised by what I find. “There’s like four hundred pairs of eyeglasses in here.”