He was sweating all over the jacket. The wool was blotching dark in places, all ruined. He brushed his fingers over the damage.

Hot. Hot. Hot.

Kelly said, “Oh, honey, it’s okay, I won’t leave if you don’t want me to go, it’s okay—”

She hugged him. When she felt the heat she tried to yank free but he held on, not because he wanted to hurt her but he wanted help, wanted her to make it stop, this terrible thing, this awful pain. Knives. Knives everywhere. Skin coming off in strips. Heat burrowing in everywhere, burning, everything burning.

Kelly’s fingernails clawed at him, sank deep into his skin and pulled it out by handfuls. He couldn’t hold her anymore but when his legs gave way and he fell she was still with him, screaming, beating at him, clawing.

Stuck to him. Before the skin went black on her face, he had time to think, You got what you wanted, baby.

Chapter Twenty-five

Velvet

It was dark when she woke up, morning or middle of the night or some damn thing. Velvet groaned and put a pillow over her head, but that only made the pain echo more, like a pinball trapped inside her skull. She blinked dry eyes until the digital alarm clock swam into view.

It said 7-something. She couldn’t tell if it was A.M. or P.M., didn’t really matter, anyway except there was better shit on TV if it was P.M. She was in no mood for “Good Morning America.”

Christ, how the hell had she gotten home? Speaking of that—where the hell was she? She fumbled for a light and found one on the bedstand. When she flicked it on, she moaned and turned it off just as fast. Neon blue. God, she’d made it to Robby’s, maybe the bus driver had walked her upstairs. Lucky she hadn’t gotten busted.

With the pillow held firmly over her head, she turned the light on again. She let the glare in in stages—through closed eyes, then just a peek, finally eyes open at half-staff. No way were they coming open any more, not yet, not in this technicolor hell. She kicked the suffocating covers off and stumbled naked out of bed, found a T-shirt and slipped it on, a pair of discarded panties that felt suspiciously stiff. What the hell. She’d change later.

She was sitting on the end of the bed, head in her hands, waiting for the pounding to die down, when Robby knocked on the door.

“Are you all right?”

“God damn nosy Irish bitch,” Velvet whispered into her trembling hands. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Can I come in?”

“No.”