Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“What?” He laughs.
“Your eyes are a bit… disturbing.”
“Oh. That. Yeah. Sometimes they come off gold, but they’re not. Just brown. It’s a trick of the light.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
He shakes his head at me. “No, Clover. I’m not a werewolf.”
“But you say you come from some underground city. Some secret underground city. You’re not human for all I know.”
He sits down on the overstuffed chair near my window and starts unlacing his boots. “Trust me, doesn’t matter if you’re up or down, it’s all the same shit.”
“So what’s it like there?”
He kicks off a boot and looks at me. “Am I making you nervous?”
“No. Why?”
“Because you’re very chatty.”
“Well, I don’t even know your name.”
He and I stare at each other for a moment, his eyes doing a little search of mine. “Riggs. I’m Riggs.”
“Do you have a last name?”
“Of course. But you don’t need to know my last name.” He puts up a hand when I open my mouth to object. “And before you tell me it will even things out, forget it. That only works once and you used it up. I told you about my prison time and the way I see it, you owe me something now because I don’t know anything personal about you.”
My gaze travels around the room, looking at all the hundreds and hundreds of photographs that are tacked up to dozens of corkboards. Then I train my gaze back on him. “Looks to me like you got a good look at my entire life, so that’s not even accurate.”
“Baby pictures of you and your ponies isn’t quite the same.”
“You took one.”
“What?” He sneers this word out.
“You took one.” I point to a corkboard. “It came from that one right there. It was a picture of me holding the deed to this house. Normally, I wouldn’t notice if a picture was missing, but that was the last one I put up. And now it’s gone.” My eyes narrow down. “So you took it.”
He tilts his head a little, just the beginnings of a smile creeping up one side of his face. “Are you gonna make me put it back?”
“Is it going to be your trophy?”
“What?”
“Isn’t that something serial killers do? Take something personal as a trophy?”
“Wow.” He laughs. “First, you’re accusing me of being a werewolf, now a serial killer. I think you might just need to get some fuckin’ sleep.”
As soon as he says that, I know he’s right. I’m being dumb. My mind is confused and my imagination is getting the better of me. “But this underground city stuff?”
“What about it?”
“I don’t understand. It’s like you came right out of the pages of a story.”
“It’s not magic, Clover. It’s not anything like that. You just think it is because it’s unfamiliar to you, and you’re sleep-deprived, and you’ve been through a lot the past couple of days. It’s military, OK?”
“Our military? Or your military?”
“They’re the same thing.”
“This makes no sense. You’re telling me that the American government has a bunch of secret underground cities?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“Why would they keep that secret?”
“Why?” He laughs. “Why wouldn’t they?”
“So there are two Americas? One up here and one down below?”
“We’re not the only country with underground cities. Every country in Europe has at least one as well. Australia has three. Canada’s is connected to ours via train. Same with Mexico. Shit, we could take a train all the way down to the tip of Argentina and never see the sky once, if we wanted to.”
Internally, I scoff at this. We? There is no ‘we.’
But he’s being reasonable, so I don’t bring it up. I need more information. I mean, of course I’m going with him. It’s either that or get left behind in my personal dungeon. I need to be reasonable as well. Whether or not his offer is genuine isn’t really the point. The point is that I have to play along until I come up with a better solution. So I ask questions. “Where is this place? Where will I end up when this trip is over?”
His boots are now off so he stands up, pulls his shirt up over his head, and tosses it onto the chair behind him. He walks around the other side of the bed and I turn in place to watch him. He doesn’t ask me for permission to sleep in the bed, nor does he hesitate. Just slides his body right under my covers and turns onto his stomach, one eye open so he can look at me. “If you lie down and stop talking, I’ll tell you all about it.”
I stare at him for a few moments, suddenly remembering that we’re going to be sharing a twin bed and he’s already taking up most of the space. He doesn’t say anything as these thoughts work their way through my head, but he doesn’t have to. His eyes are dancing with amusement. Will I get in next to him? Will I sleep on the floor? Will I try and kick him out?