Adelaide—when? Four days ago? Something like that. Ten thousand dollars down the tube for a stash that ought to have lasted six weeks, or a month at the least, and at the rate she was going she’d be out again in a little over a week. Three years ago, ten grand would have lasted all summer. Where did that trend end up? Would the stuff eventually stop working entirely? Sick dread, a coil of barbed wire, twisted in her belly. She’d been there before, visions crowding on top of each other until they drew an opaque veil over reality entirely. Going back to that was unthinkable.
She took a chunk out of the bag and, grimacing, put it on her tongue. The bitter, oily taste that flooded her mouth as she crushed the fragment between her molars nearly made her gag, but she washed it down with a long slug of gross chemical water.
There. That’ll get me through tonight.
“Hey!” Anna’s voice—singular, thank God—from the living room. “You home? How about a beer?”
Karyn stowed the blind
back in its drawer and swallowed a couple of times to try to clear the taste from her mouth, then went out. With no Karyn to talk to, Anna had gone directly to the refrigerator. She held up a bottle.
“You drinking?”
“Yeah. How’d it go?”
“None of the usual suspects are giving me anything.”
Karyn suppressed a groan.
Anna popped the top off one of the bottles and put it on the counter. “I hear Tommy and Nail got some good stuff, but Tommy’s gonna need some prep time with it. He’ll probably hit you up tomorrow to help him do that creepy thing he does. The rest of us are thinking about checking out the cult members—Mendelsohn’s place is pretty locked down.” She opened the other bottle and put the bottle opener on the counter. “Hey, are you o—”
“Don’t.” That endless, hated question, and Anna knew better than to ask it:
Are you OK?
The question was, in fact, the source of one of only a handful of bitter arguments they’d had over the years.
Are you OK?
Anna, like most everybody else, regarded it as a simple expression of concern, but Karyn had heard it so many times it had lost meaning and become something slippery and indistinct, and somehow insidious. What was “OK,” anyway? It wasn’t good, it wasn’t bad—it wasn’t anything. It just lived in that damned question, the only function of which was to make the asker feel like they’d discharged their responsibilities just by barfing it up.
Are you OK?
The hell with that. She’d had enough of
Are you OK?
to last her until she died.
Anna made an apologetic grimace. “Sorry.”
“I’m just . . . anxious. That’s all.”
She offered Karyn a bottle. “Yeah. I hear that.”
Chapter 6
“Motherfucker,” Nail said. He kept his eyes to the binoculars, but a frown creased his face. “These jokers even split up to go to the bathroom?”
Genevieve shook her head. “Nope. First rule of cult conditioning—never leave anyone alone. Cut ’em off from friends and family, and make sure they never have a moment alone to start thinking. Constant reinforcement.”
“Great.” He set the binoculars down in his lap and drummed on the steering wheel with his fingers. “So quietly disappearing one of them is probably out.”
“Yeah,” Anna said, piping up from the backseat.
Genevieve echoed that thought. “Not a great idea anyway. It’s not unheard-of for somebody to quit and vanish, but if anything looked funny about it, they’d get suspicious. They’re a suspicious bunch of assholes.”
“Probably goes with belonging to a cult that worships deceit.”
“You said it.”
Anna leaned against the window, watching half a dozen cultists walk down the sidewalk. They were loaded down with groceries—evidently, demon worshippers needed eggs and milk like everybody else. So far today, Anna, Nail, and Genevieve had trailed the group from a shitty two-bedroom apartment the six of them shared to a basketball court for a long-ass game of
She took a chunk out of the bag and, grimacing, put it on her tongue. The bitter, oily taste that flooded her mouth as she crushed the fragment between her molars nearly made her gag, but she washed it down with a long slug of gross chemical water.
There. That’ll get me through tonight.
“Hey!” Anna’s voice—singular, thank God—from the living room. “You home? How about a beer?”
Karyn stowed the blind
back in its drawer and swallowed a couple of times to try to clear the taste from her mouth, then went out. With no Karyn to talk to, Anna had gone directly to the refrigerator. She held up a bottle.
“You drinking?”
“Yeah. How’d it go?”
“None of the usual suspects are giving me anything.”
Karyn suppressed a groan.
Anna popped the top off one of the bottles and put it on the counter. “I hear Tommy and Nail got some good stuff, but Tommy’s gonna need some prep time with it. He’ll probably hit you up tomorrow to help him do that creepy thing he does. The rest of us are thinking about checking out the cult members—Mendelsohn’s place is pretty locked down.” She opened the other bottle and put the bottle opener on the counter. “Hey, are you o—”
“Don’t.” That endless, hated question, and Anna knew better than to ask it:
Are you OK?
The question was, in fact, the source of one of only a handful of bitter arguments they’d had over the years.
Are you OK?
Anna, like most everybody else, regarded it as a simple expression of concern, but Karyn had heard it so many times it had lost meaning and become something slippery and indistinct, and somehow insidious. What was “OK,” anyway? It wasn’t good, it wasn’t bad—it wasn’t anything. It just lived in that damned question, the only function of which was to make the asker feel like they’d discharged their responsibilities just by barfing it up.
Are you OK?
The hell with that. She’d had enough of
Are you OK?
to last her until she died.
Anna made an apologetic grimace. “Sorry.”
“I’m just . . . anxious. That’s all.”
She offered Karyn a bottle. “Yeah. I hear that.”
Chapter 6
“Motherfucker,” Nail said. He kept his eyes to the binoculars, but a frown creased his face. “These jokers even split up to go to the bathroom?”
Genevieve shook her head. “Nope. First rule of cult conditioning—never leave anyone alone. Cut ’em off from friends and family, and make sure they never have a moment alone to start thinking. Constant reinforcement.”
“Great.” He set the binoculars down in his lap and drummed on the steering wheel with his fingers. “So quietly disappearing one of them is probably out.”
“Yeah,” Anna said, piping up from the backseat.
Genevieve echoed that thought. “Not a great idea anyway. It’s not unheard-of for somebody to quit and vanish, but if anything looked funny about it, they’d get suspicious. They’re a suspicious bunch of assholes.”
“Probably goes with belonging to a cult that worships deceit.”
“You said it.”
Anna leaned against the window, watching half a dozen cultists walk down the sidewalk. They were loaded down with groceries—evidently, demon worshippers needed eggs and milk like everybody else. So far today, Anna, Nail, and Genevieve had trailed the group from a shitty two-bedroom apartment the six of them shared to a basketball court for a long-ass game of
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