Chapter 52

That shuts him up. ‘Cause he knows I’ll do it. I’ve done it before. I think Patterson enjoys our verbal (and occasionally physical) sparring almost as much as I do. He doesn’t like it when I kick his rotund ass down the stairs that lead into the basement and I lock him down there for the afternoon, though. He flashes his teeth. “Where are those friends of yours? The

English toff and the addict.”

“Hah! What makes you think Pax is an addict?”

“He looks like that guy out of that movie with the Scottish junkies.”

“I don’t think you can accuse someone of being a drug addict because they have a shaved head and they bear a passing resemblance to a young Ewan McGregor.”

He grunts, clearly of a different mind. “You want more?” He thrusts the Johnny Walker at me.

“It’s the middle of the afternoon, man. Despite what you might think of me, I’m not a degenerate.” Laughable. The lie is just so fucking laughable that even I grin like a piece of shit when Patterson holds his belly and roars. The things he’s seen me do. The states he’s seen me in. Jesus. “I have a question for you, Pat,” I say, leaning forward so that the edge of the bar digs into my ribs. “You’re a married man, aren’t you?”

If Pat had any eyebrows, they’d be up around his receding hairline right now. “Yeah?”

“That big lady with the mustache? The one who cleans the toilets? She’s your actual wife?”

His eyes, already so set back into his face, practically disappear as he glowers at me. “Are you looking for a smack boy?”

“No, no! No offense meant.”

“Oh, well, in that case, none taken!” There he goes with that sarcasm again. He’s a fucking pro.

“I just mean…how long have you been married to the lovely Mrs.

Patterson,” I ask, changing tack.

“Seventeen years.”

“Shit. How…how the hell did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“How did you convince her that you weren’t an evil, heartless piece of shit in the first place?”

Patterson rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, chuckling merrily to himself. This time, he doesn’t seem to be mocking me with his laughter; he seems genuinely amused. “Oh, lord, Wren. God, you crack me up sometimes.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I. Oh god.” Gathering himself, he plants his meaty hands on the other side of the bar, bracing himself like he’s preparing to lay some serious wisdom on me. “The key to convincing a woman that you’re not an evil, heartless piece of shit, Wren, is to not be an evil, heartless piece of shit.”

Well, I can see that I walked myself right into that one. Even so, a lick of fury rises my back, tingling between my shoulder blades. It’s in my nature to want to punish the guy for such insolence, but now there’s this nagging voice in the back of my head, asking how I would be acting if Elodie were here, and I don’t even know what to do with myself anymore. “Duly noted,” I say tightly through my teeth.

“I never thought I’d see the day!” Patterson caws. “You pompous Wolf Hall asses come in here, reeking of privilege. You play at participating in society like normal folk, but you’re so like those fancy, expensive cars you all drive—too low to the ground, with no room for more than one person inside. The moment you hit a bump in the road, or you’re asked to think about carrying even the slightest burden, you’re bottoming out and struggling to carry anything at all.”

“Your metaphor’s falling apart, Pat.”

“Doesn’t matter. Look, heaven help whoever this girl is if you’re interested in her, but this shit is simple. Don’t be selfish. Don’t be a dick. Put her needs before your own. Jesus, what the fuck am I…” He shakes his head. “Why am I even bothering?”

I leave Cosgrove’s feeling even more confused than when I went in. It all seems straightforward, and I know that Patterson’s speaking the truth. To get Elodie to trust me, I need to make a few changes. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out how the fuck I’m going to alter my very genetic code— whhaaAAAAT THE FUCK?

I stop dead on the sidewalk, the wind whipping at me, tugging on my clothes, but I barely notice the cold. I can’t be seen clearly. There’s just no fucking way…

Across the other side of the street, in a deserted parking lot on the other side of a high chain link fence, two people stand at arm’s distance, talking animatedly. The tall guy on the left gesticulates, using his hands to make his point. The girl—much shorter, dressed like she’s about to clock on for her shift at a strip joint, a sheet of black hair hanging down her back—laughs, shoving him playfully in the chest.

I’m crossing the street before I even know what I’m doing. There’s no entrance to the parking lot from this side of the road, it must be on the other side of the lot, but that doesn’t stop me. In one jump, I’m halfway up the fence. A second after that, I’m vaulting over the top of it, jumping down, and landing on the ground with a bone-jarring rattle that makes it through ankles, knees, hips, and back, and ends with my teeth crashing together so hard that I nearly bite off my fucking tongue.

They see me.

But only when it’s too late.

My fist launches into Fitz’s jaw, connecting with an almighty, satisfying crack. He goes down like a sack of shit.

“What the fuck!” My sister’s shrill scream is loud and high-pitched. I grab her by the arm and pull her out of the way. “Get the fuck off me, Wren. Christ, what’s wrong with you, you fucking psycho!”

On the ground, Fitz presses his fingers to his mouth, laughing like a maniac when they come away red. His blood coats his teeth and runs down his chin. “Nice to see you, too, Jacobi.”

“Are you invincible, Doc?” I snarl, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. “Have you discovered the secret to eternal life?”

He arches a sardonic eyebrow. Not a flicker of fear in his eyes. Not a scrap of concern on him. He glances down at my mouth, his eyes lingering on my lips, and I just know he’s getting fucking hard right now. “No,” he says.

“Are you indestructible? Are your bones unbreakable? Do your wounds close immediately and stop you from bleeding out?”

“No, Wren. As well you know, they do not.” He enunciates every single word, purring like a cat.

Alive with rage, I shove him, hard enough that the back of his head bounces off the concrete. “Then stop doing shit that’s gonna wind up getting you killed, motherfucker.”

“What the hell are you thinking?” Mercy’s in front of me, now, her hands on my chest, pushing me, pushing, pushing, pushing, forcing me to take a small step away from the English teacher. “We’re in fucking public, Wren. Are you insane? You can’t fucking hit a member of faculty in front of people.”

As menacing as can be, I dip down so I can shove my face in hers. “I’ll hit him anywhere I like. Go and get in the car, Mercy.”

“I’m not getting in any car with y—”

“GET IN THE FUCKING CAR!” I’m vibrating, overflowing, spilling over—pure and blinding rage. It takes chunks out of my insides with every ragged breath I suck down. Mercy’s expression voids out, turning blank. She blinks, then turns around and begins to walk across the parking lot, towards the red Volkswagen Beetle our father bought for her last year.

“I don’t see the harm in talking to a student if I see them out in the wild,” Fitz says airily, propping himself up on one hand. “What am I supposed to do? Ignore you guys?”

Oh, ho, ho. My god, this motherfucker is right here. Slowly, I crouch down in front of him, resting my forearms on top of my thighs, observing him with utter contempt. “You don’t look at anything that belongs to me. You don’t touch anything that belongs to me. Outside of your remit as a teacher, you don’t speak to anybody that’s connected with me. Do you understand?”

With eyes full of heat, Fitz sucks on his bottom lip, both nostrils flaring. “It doesn’t have to be like this, y’know. Things could be like they were before.”

Fuck, he just doesn’t listen. I close my eyes, shaking my head, unable to believe the gall of the bastard. “Just keep your word, Wes. Or life’s gonna become unpleasant for you, yeah?”

I get into Mercy’s stupid, girly red Beetle, slamming my fist into the dashboard so hard that the plastic cracks. “Wren! You asshole! What the fuck are you doing?” Mercy hits me, landing a blow to my upper arm. She’s always been far more interested in being skinny than fit, so she doesn’t pack much power. Won’t even bruise. “Just because you’ve already broken all of your stuff, doesn’t make it okay to break mine,” she pouts.

I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. I can’t catch my breath. “Grow up, Mercy.”

“You don’t think he’s gonna report you to Harcourt now?” she hisses, her eyes flashing daggers at me. “You think he’s just gonna keep his mouth shut if you knock him on his ass in the middle of town? You humiliated him.”

Yeah. I fucking humiliated him. But there won’t be any recourse for my actions in this parking lot and Mercy knows it. I know it, and Wesley Fitzpatrick knows it most of all.

He isn’t gonna say shit.

His problem has always been that he wants me to hurt him. To humiliate him.

Almost as badly as he wants me to fuck him.

When we get back to the school, I pull over at the side of the road by Riot House and I get out of the car. Mercy switches places with me.

“You’re fucking insane!” She yells as she burns off up the hill toward the academy. If she expects this to be some sort of revelation to me, then she’s shit outta luck. What I’m about to do is prove enough that she’s right. I take out my phone and I type out a quick message before heading inside to throw some clothes into a bag.

ME: Going away for three days. Catch you when I get back.