Our Crazy Little Thing Called Love

by Liz K. Lorde

  I hadn’t heard or seen Con or Tabitha for a while now; they’ve got to be safe. They just have to be.

  Not one more soul.

  Not one more god damn soul.

  Reaching for one of the kitchen drawers, I yanked on the silver handle. The drawer went ‘rrrow’ before making a loud clacking type noise; I nearly pulled it right out of its place. Some small colored pouches whizzed by me while I kept my ears at the ready for anything I could sense. Dammit, the compartment was full of tea bags, boxes, and other related memorabilia that I had zero interest in.

  Feeling the cheeks of my face burn with frustration, I quickly brought my hand over to the next drawer and craned my head over my shoulder.

  The entranceway was empty.

  Somehow it just made knots of my stomach even worse than if the tall son of a bitch had been there. Incessant pins pricked at the back of my head, and I couldn’t seem to break focus from the thunderous pounding in my chest.

  Knives, knives, knives. Come on.

  Come on.

  Opening the drawer, even before I pulled it open all the way I could hear the spoons and forks rattling. I cursed beneath my breath and moved my feet so quick to the last drawer I nearly tripped; there was a noise then, behind me. I didn’t have time to look. I had to resist the urge. Opening up that last drawer, a sense of palpable relief washed over me when my hand caught the black handle of a chef’s cutting blade. I pulled it out and flipped it through the air, to where the blade would come down for a stabbing motion.

  Turning around, half of me expecting to be blown the hell away.

  I locked eyes with Connifer.

  He was gritting his teeth, and he turned his head to look towards the front doorway; he then brought his gaze back to me, the seeds of panic long since bloomed on his quickly paling face. I worked the problem over in my mind while I said, with a great deal of relief and confusion: “Con?”

  Just where was Tabitha?

  Turning my head to the drawer of knives, Connifer hugged what he was able as he stepped inside, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Something clicked in my head and I pulled out another large knife; I handed it to Con and whispered for him to play dead.

  “I won’t need to soon,” Connifer replied while I helped to get him face down on the floor of the kitchen, some of his blood making the floor slick. Stuffing the knife hastily into the back of my pants, I moved away from Connifer and I put the gun that I’d looted from the traitor down to the floor. I then put my foot on top of it and threw my hands up into the air in mock surrender.

  I could hear the thud of the last Amigo’s boot.

  “Don’t breathe,” I instructed to Connifer, hoping that he didn’t take that bit of advice too far.

  The assassin stopped his movement, and my chest rose in a nervous breath.

  He crept inside slowly, the dark of his figure entering my vision and filling up the white-walled kitchen like an ominous void. His LMG was on his back now, and he stared me down through his mask – his SMG had a beat on my chest, I could practically feel the bullets ripping through me already. Dammit, sweating now. The only good thing was that he wasn’t paying any attention to anything outside of me.

  “You got me,” I started, kicking my gun beneath my foot and letting it slide past Connifer and over to the Amigo. “Just how much is my brother paying you, anyway? You’re a dog of war – not too different from me,” I grinned and let out a slightly nervous laughter.

  Inside I was shitting myself.

  You have to be brave, I reminded myself. You have to do this, you have to live.

  The Amigo continued to step forward cautiously, a few tears and spots of red apparent on his armor. Ramona must have had AP rounds on her…

  I had to resist the promising urge of balling my fist up. “Not one for talking I see,” I growled, “I get it. You’ve got the whole force of nature thing going for you – you know except for what happened to your friend.” Fuck, why was I saying this? I don’t want to rile him up.

  The Amigo stopped in place just past Connifer, keeping a steady beat on my chest.

  “Look if you don’t care about the money… just, just make it a clean kill,” come on, get closer. “That’s all I’m asking.”

  He stared at me through his dark mask, still not moving. There was a winter’s breeze that touched me, one that made it hard for me to move – even harder for me to think.

  He was my long overdue judgment. My specter of death. In his hands were all the power in the world, and every horrific second that he lorded over the fact that he could kill me, was another second that my gut clenched with an instinctual fear.

  Today was the day I was going to die.

  “Please,” I begged, not having to do much acting after all. “For my fans out there, think about my funeral – just one shot to the head. Make it clean?” I let out a breath and I could feel my knees wanting to buckle as he watched me plead.

  Bravery over fear. Courage over cowardice.

  The Amigo took one step forward, and I could really hear now the subtleties of his armor. The rustling of spare magazines, the way his straps groaned with each step as they held the massive gun on his back. Just a bit further and Con could safely—

  He squeezed the trigger and his gun flashed.

  I cried out, collapsing onto my knees and hands. Fuck! The pain immediately followed after his three shot burst and my head promptly got a little lighter. It felt like a hand was squeezing my heart, trying to make it pop.

  He’d shot my fucking leg. “Fu-u-uck!” I yelled out in a rising tone. I rolled over onto my back, even though I knew that he’d seen the knife by now; to make matters worse, I could feel it cutting up against my back. I sent my hands down to the wound on my leg and clutched it, looking up at the Amigo as he stared down at me. He looked alien in that moment. Unearthly. Fuck, he may as well have been holding a scythe.

  The barrel of his gun pressed directly at my face… That’s when I saw Connifer stop playing dead.

  He rose up unbeknown. The knife in his hand gleamed beneath the overhead kitchen lights, and he slammed it with a satisfying roar of aggression into the assassin’s head; the blade plunged handle deep, easily pushing through the protective black and making a wet, life ending sound. Connifer let go of the handle, and the knife jutted out of the Amigo’s head. His body still didn’t seem to understand what was going on, or rather, he himself, in his dying moments couldn’t process what’d happened.

  I held the wound on my leg as it burned, making every nerve in my body light up with pain and adrenaline and endorphins. For some reason, I couldn’t look away – even though my instincts were screaming at me for me to move. To get away from the barrel of that gun.

  The Amigo wobbled as Connifer fell onto the countertops, using them as a way to prop himself up.

  The last thing I saw was black as the Amigo collapsed onto me.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  EMOTIONAL DISPLACEMENT

  TABITHA

  It tore at me, the thought of Fee or Leo or even Connifer… well, I didn’t want to dwell on it. This was the best that I could do, given the situation. The ride had been a long one, and we made several trips before arriving at that familiar safehouse. At some point during the trip, the Amigo who had helped to ambush me and Connifer excused himself.

  Killaine had explained to me in so many ways, even despite my lack of talking to him, that hiring the Three Amigos had cost him a small fortune – and to require their services any longer would put ‘unessecary financial stress’ upon him. When we’d arrived at the former residence of Leo’s father, there were a number of armed guards posted – though their weapons were concealed for the most part, only being noticed when I walked right by them.

  I wanted to try and think of some clever way to escape, but I just couldn’t see it. It was one thing to trick the ones that had some respect for me, but another entirely for these people. I could tell that there was no love or loyalty here, to Killaine’s men. Just an
other paycheck.

  Killaine and a few of his goons led me to a room, a different one from the one that Leo had talked to me in. More luxurious. Killaine stood there in the door way, wrapped in his clothing of black and gray – that same sinister upturned lip still on his face. “I have to oversee a few things, don’t miss me too much?”

  “I shouldn’t have a problem with that,” I deadpanned back to him.

  He smiled and instantly I regretted using my sense of humor; he gave a short, stiff laugh. “Right,” he said, “Indra will see to it that you’re kept in good company, and… cleaned.” He raked his eyes over me one last time before closing the door.

  When he shut it, I made long strides to the door and flicked the lock into place. I felt dirtier just having had his eyes on me.

  Lunatic.

  “Mistress Godric,” a peculiar voice called out from behind, startling me.

  I turned around to see that a woman had came into the private bedroom, probably from the bathroom. She wore a dark red sarong that only barely covered her gorgeously pale, moonlight-white skin. Her hair was long and black and came down in cascades against her hourglass figure. The sides of her luscious breasts were plainly visible; there was something about her that seemed distant, sad even – but it gave her a peculiarly attractive quality.

  “It’s Summers,” I corrected.

  She shook her head, “I’m sorry, but I can only call you what the master wishes.” I wanted to laugh but I held it all inside, and I’m sure some of that showed on my face. There was something odd going on with this one’s voice, like it was a struggle to speak and it required a concentrated effort. Maybe she wasn’t from around here. She continued: “You may call me Indra, if it pleases you,” she curtsied like a properly trained dog.

  “Nonsense,” I told her, putting a hand on her shoulder, “you don’t have to call me mistress, bow, or anything for that matter. “

  The girl did not seem to know what to say, she looked worried, even, like she had done something incorrectly. “Please,” she eventually mumbled, and gestured towards the bathroom, “the master has instructed me to clean you.”

  “I think we skipped a few steps in progressive intimacy here. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I can clean myself – trust me I’ve had lots of practice.”

  Indra’s lips parted and her body stilled, like she had to remember how to breathe. “I must watch,” she insisted, there was that strange color to her voice again, to the point where it was becoming difficult to distinguish what she was saying.

  “You must?” I raised a brow incredulously before moving past her. Naturally, she followed me like a walking shadow. When I got inside of the bathroom, it was abundantly clear that this was the room of someone important – the tiles were pristine and colored gold, while the bathtub itself was carved out from jet rock. Damn did it ever look good, just letting my eyes crawl over it was enough to make me forget that Indra was standing behind me and waiting for me to undress.

  A girl could get used to pampering like that… still, I turn to Indra and tell her straight up: “Listen, I appreciate you trying to help and all – but I can do this on my own. You can smell me after I’m done if you’re really worried about it.”

  She seemed to consider things for a moment, quite the hesitant little thing. “Alright,” she finally said, “I will fetch you your clothes.”

  My clothes? “Excuse me?”

  “The ones that the master wishes you wear.”

  “Oh he can wish.”

  “This is… not negotiable.”

  I guess I could at least see what it looks like first, and while I’m in the bath maybe I can think of some way out of this place… Indra seems privately disgruntled enough with the man, maybe she’d help. “I’ll look at it and decide after my bath,” I tell her before physically pushing her out.

  On her way out the door she put up a hand and said: “Do not forget to wash—“

  “Closing the door now,” I say sing-song and start shutting the elegantly carved door.

  “But—“

  “And-d-d, shut.” The door rattles into place and I lock the heavy handle, sighing out in relief and turning around, pressing my back against the face of the door. Finally an actual moment of privacy to myself.

  “The shampoos—“ Indra’s muffled voice called out, and I rolled my eyes.

  “Already found them!” I called out, shuffling quickly forward and to the black tub. Removing my glasses, I sat them aside on the rim of the bathtub, let my clothes pool at my feet and step inside carefully, one leg at a time.

  Later, after having drawn the bath, I found myself lounging blissfully in the soothing embrace of warm waters. I tilted my head back and pushed out a long, slow breath.

  As close to blissful as one could be, given the messed up situation.

  Even the ceilings of this place were beautiful. Above me was a mural of angels dressed in blue, their wings great and spanning a massive distance; they watched over a babe at the breast. I didn’t know what any of it meant, but as the waters lapped around me and kissed at my ears, I found some quantum of solace in looking at it.

  In that moment of peace, something inside of me shifted.

  Emotional displacement. My body felt lighter, and my head was void of all those poisonous, depressive thoughts. The dullness in my bones and in my soul became washed away; all that remained was a beautiful, biting sorrow. Pain crept up behind my eyes, and I felt the need to still my heart. I didn’t have the slightest clue as to where my life was going, but I knew that I didn’t want it to end up in the gutters any longer.

  I did not wish to be static and motionless in the pools of life.

  Didn’t want to be without Leo, I could see them, those big and beautiful emerald eyes that touched at my soul.

  Fiona…

  Tears, hot and heavy they formed, and when I couldn’t stand the weight of them anymore; when the dams I’d so long ago built finally came crashing down… I wept.

  I wept for all the days that I’d lost. For all the bad things that I had thought.

  For the people in my life I might never get back.

  Sorrow draped itself around my bones. There has to be some way out of this place. Some way of tricking that horrible man.

  Another half hour passed, and I was finally starting to prune. I left the bath, picked up a bright yellow towel and dried myself off before covering myself.

  Closing the door behind me, I saw that Indra was still here, waiting for me on the bed with an expectant look on her face. I could already tell that she was going to take me up on my not-so-serious offer of smelling me. Just beside her was a sheer and very revealing green top and matching panties. Christ, was he really expecting me to wear something like that?

  Indra picked herself up and grabbed the wardrobe that Killaine foolishly expected me to wear. She padded over and offered them to me, “Here,” she said.

  I looked down at the clothing, able to clearly see Indra’s hands through the material – imagining the show that Killaine would get to witness in my head. I looked back to Indra, “I’m not going to where that.”

  Her eyes widened and I already knew what she was going to say, not that I was psychic or anything. “But you must.”

  “Must is a strong word. Neither of those are going on my body.”

  She shook her head and offered them to me again, this time extending her arms out even further and bowing her head slightly, “Please,” she said. “You must.”

  “I’m not going to be this monster’s wet fantasy.”

  Indra straightened herself out and looked at me with a great deal of worry. There was something that gleamed in her brown eyes, a thing that I was familiar with but couldn’t quite place – her lip trembled lightly, and the first hints of water began to form in the corners of her eyes.

  I narrowed my gaze and stepped closer to her, compassion and curiosity etching the lines of my face. There was a finger then, that touched at my heart: Just what was going on here
? I lowered my voice to a sotto, “Wearing that is telling him I admit defeat. He does not get to win.”

  She did not like what I was telling her, and the water in her eyes became more apparent. “Mis—miss Summers,” she started, “please.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

  Indra jerked away like a skittish cat in the night.

  I continued, “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” promptly after the words left my mouth, I mentally slapped my forehead and came to the sudden revelation. “Does he… does he hurt you, Indra?”

  She couldn’t seem to bare to look at me. Her body trembled lightly and after a solemn moment she finally nodded her head, so carefully that I wondered if perhaps Indra thought Killaine might be watching on camera. The sick bastard, just what was he doing to her?

  “Can you show me where he hurt you?” I asked, knowing that I hadn’t seen any marks on her body, and there wasn’t much left to my imagination at this point. She could just mean that… he does seem like the kind of man, no, animal that would do that.

  Indra brought her head up to look at me with nervous and melancholy contemplation. Heartbeats passed and she spoke in a hushed whisper, “The master burns me.”

  I swallowed hard, feeling dread grip at my stomach. “Where does he burn you?”

  She looked away.

  “Indra,” I pursued, “where does he burn you?”

  Bringing her gaze back to me, she clenched her hands together and opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out. This was why she did not smile too brightly, the poor girl was frightfully embarrassed at being seen like this. There were hellish burn marks dotted across her tongue, and a few of her teeth were missing – this was a thing of note because of the fact, that all of her other teeth were in pristine condition. He must have stuck her so hard that it knocked them out of her.

  Leo… how could this be from your blood? “I’m… I’m sorry, Indra. I understand now, is it okay if I hug you?”

  Now she truly looked stunned. When she started to break down, I moved in and wrapped my arms around her, squeezing her tight. I wanted to try and squeeze all of her pain away, to wash the pain from her bones, but I knew that nothing would take the sting away from her trauma. I pulled Indra deeper into my chest, letting her tears fall where they may on my shoulder and breasts.