Page 104 of The Sister's Curse

I ran a bath to wash the smell of smoke out of my hair. Thinking of my mother, I threw a handful of salt into the tub. I sank into the bathtub, hissing as water lapped at my reddened skin. First-degree burns—no more harmful than a sunburn, but I still felt them. I’d turned the lights off. I didn’t want to look at my body, at all the damage it was accumulating. Nick was right. I wasn’t invincible. I felt my body degrading with each new hit. It took longer and longer to bounce back.

Gibby nosed his way into the bathroom and lay down on the rug. I reached out and stroked his nose.

Maybe Nick and Gibby and I needed a fresh start, away from here. I tried to imagine what I would do if I moved away with Nick. I was older than the recruitment limit for the city police department, and I wasn’t thinking they’d be much interested in a transfer. I’d developed a bit of notoriety from working the Forest Strangler copycat case last year. Maybe I could find work with the state Bureau of Criminal Investigation.

Or maybe I could take early retirement. And then what? What would I be if I wasn’t a cop?

I sat with that, in the warm, stinging water on raw skin. I’d never seriously considered it before. Maybe I’d work with dogs? I wondered what it would take to become a vet tech, or to go back to school to be a veterinarian. I couldn’t hope to pay back student loans before I died, but maybe it was worth considering.

What would Nick do if he wasn’t a doctor?

I didn’t know the answer. I don’t think either of us ever saw him as anything else. He’d wanted to be one since his mother died. Since my father killed his mother.

Fuck.We just kept on fucking his life up, didn’t we? My father and I were excellent at destroying everything we touched. Like poison.

Lulled by the warmth and the darkness, I dozed in the bathtub as the stinging faded. I was suspended for a moment, existing in an instant of unfeeling, unthinking nothingness.

Something giggled from the drain near my feet, burbling up near my toes. The water was red, red as it had been when my mother lost my sister, red as I imagined it had been when Viv’s mother tried to kill herself. Somewhere, beyond the drain, a baby cried.

I jerked awake, and yanked my feet back with a splash. On the floor, Gibby yelped and lurched to his feet.

I steadied my thundering heart, staring at the drain. In the dimness, I could see that the plug was intact. There was nothing there.

I rubbed my wet hands on my face.

Would things like this be able to reach me in the city, or wherever we wound up after this?

I supposed that depended. Was this real, or was this in my head?

Because if this was in my head, it could follow me anywhere, and I could never escape.

—

I stared at myself calmly in the bathroom mirror. In the gray light of morning, I could see the damage to my hair much better. The ends were unevenly burned; my ponytail had been half burned off in the conflagration. I guess I was just lucky I wasn’t wearing flammable hair spray yesterday. It seemed like the rest of my hair was a darker blond than I remembered. Maybe it would wash out over time, but I wasn’t sure.

I ran my hands through it. I wasn’t particularly vain, but I was hoping it wasn’t screwed up enough to cause Monica to force me into a salon.

Nick tenderly combed my hair straight over my shoulder, then lifted his scissors and started cutting.

Blackened hair fell to the floor as he worked, beginning on my left side. The scissors made grainy slicing sounds. He moved to the right, pulling pieces under my chin to make sure they were even. He moved to the back, fingertips dusting fallen strands of hair from my shoulders. I closed my eyes and let him work.

When he was finished, my hair hung a couple of inches below my jaw. I leaned into my hair and sniffed it. It didn’t smell like ash. And I didn’t think it looked bad, either.

I turned around in Nick’s embrace and kissed him. He put the scissors down, slipped his hand up to the bare nape of my neck, and leaned into the kiss.

He was my person. I knew this on a cellular level. I knew it when I told him my secrets, when I let him cut my hair, and when we tumbled in bed.

No matter what happened, I couldn’t be without him.

—

I slipped out of the house afterward. Nick had finally fallen asleep, and I didn’t want to disturb him. I kissed Gibby on the head, certain that he would watch over his dad.

The fox was gone. I worried that she was too domesticated, that she needed people. But maybe, also, she needed to be free.

I met Monica in the parking lot of the local waffle house. I wanted to avoid the office as much as possible, to avoid the sheriff. I arrived at the waffle house early, so I caught up on email in the car.

My attention was caught by movement to my left. I recognized Rod Matthews, sauntering across the lot with his hands in his pockets. His ankle appeared to be missing its monitoring bracelet.