Ruin, The Turning (8 page)

Sam braced for impact as Ruin stormed up to her in one stride. Staring down into her face, he crucified her with all the loathe and contempt in his stare. She was suddenly twelve years old again, staring up into the face of Jeremy Jones, just before she got her first official ass whipping. But instead of having a fist slammed into her stomach, he slowly closed his eyes and growled before stalking off.

Isadore’s body sagged with a huge gasp when he was out of range. She made her way to the counter on trembling legs. Dear God, what was it with that one? She slammed her fist onto the tile, vowing to become stronger. More ready just before she reminded herself that it was all new territory. That’s all. Just unfamiliar territory. She’d have to learn. Master it, in fact. Like she did anything and everything she set her mind to.

Chapter Ten

Ruin sat in the back seat of the car with Luke, glaring at the back of Sam’s head, hating her more than ever for being the one that engaged his stupid link instinct, forcing him to be things he did not want to ever be again in his fucking existence. He slid his gaze to Scriber, reminding himself where inky was in his hater list. Tippy top. If he thought Ruin didn’t know what he was up to, he was stupid. He had Scriber’s angle, his number, his slant. He and his God…Ruin lowered his head and shook it as fury gripped him hard. How could this God do this to him? What had he ever done to this benevolent Supreme Being? He’d barely taken a breath to mourn his wife’s death, and now this. Now, he was being forced to connect again. Another woman, of all blasphemous things. He’d never cooperate. He’d find a way to ruin it all, demolish every bit of their plans until the heavens trembled with his agony and rage.

And where the hell were they? He looked around at the scenery. He’d studied the map at the safe house to get his bearings but the city was unfamiliar, despite the fact he’d practically memorized the road system in case they needed to leave quickly.

They drove slowly along a street lined with buildings on either side, full sized trees scattered throughout. “I think we should get lucky here,” Sam muttered, zipping her wagon-jet into a spot with a practiced ease that would impress any seasoned driver.

Sam shut the car off and aimed her shades at the rearview mirror. “Would you like to come in?”

Was she joking? “No,” he said as coldly as he could.

“I was asking Luke. You’re a grown man, you can do what you want, I do believe.”

Ruin held his mouth shut, looking out the window.

“Guess I can,” Luke said. “You mind, Mr. Ruin?”

“What?” Ruin looked at him. “Why would I mind if you go, get out. I want to be alone.”

Ruin sat in the car until enough time had passed he could have crawled across three states. How long could it fucking take to buy fucking clothes? His little tactic of focusing on Isadore’s memories began to morph into wondering what Sam was doing while Scriber ‘shopped’. He was ready to kill when scenarios of him trying on clothes with her help burned through his brain.

Finally the inky fuck star came out, dressed in new clothes, no less. He barely recognized Luke, also in new clothes. His body tensed when he didn’t see Sam. Then a woman exited with bags and held on to Scriber’s arm as she carefully navigated a set of steps. “Mother...fuck,” he said at seeing it was definitely her. Dressed in a red tight mini skirt, red boots to her knees and a red top that showed her stomach. Ruin’s eyes glued to Scriber’s hands on her. One around her waist, the other on her arm like she was a paraplegic. Ruin tensed when she lost her balance and they all erupted in laughter with Scriber pulling her against his side, causing rage to boil his blood.

Ruin turned away as they got closer, even reclined his head and shut his eyes. No need for any of them to know he had an ounce of interest in their little circus act, their little game. He knew what they were up to. He knew. And it
wasn’t
going to work. Preserve his wife’s memory, is
that
so. Is that fucking so, that
lying…
Ruin gritted his teeth at his mind’s inability to call her certain things, it had drawn lines and boundaries there, which served to piss him off more. His little human Carnificem perk was slowly closing in on him, hate it or not.

Sam opened the car door and Ruin pretended to wake. “About fucking time, how long can it take to buy clothes?”

“We ended up shopping for more than Scriber.”

“Is that right,” Ruin said, uninterested.

“Hey,” Sam said, trying to sound innocent. “I’m hungry. How about we grab a bite and go eat at the park?”

Ruin smirked. “No thank you.”

“I was asking Luke. Would you like that, Luke?”

Fury bit him and he snapped, "How about a direct address when you communicate.”

She smiled at him through the rear-view. "Or you could not assume all my questions are directed at you?"

“If it’s okay with Mr. Ruin,” Luke said.

“No, it’s not okay with me,” Ruin said.

“We can pick up the food and bring you back to the safe house and then go?” Sam suggested.

“Fine by me,” Ruin said.

The entire drive back involved Ruin fighting not to look at Sam’s
new look
in the rear-view mirror. What a
player.
She’d gone from dude to…hot…gorgeous… He growled to himself at how his stupid brain refused to provide him with justified insults about her. Instead all he got were terms that made him want to go nails and teeth on a chunk of raw steak.

They got back to the safe house and as he got out of the car, he slammed his door and clobbered the EMP resistant vehicle with a blast of ice as he did, freezing the engine. He stretched his body, looking around the forested area for anything unusual. Scriber had them cloaked but he put zero confidence in the being at this point.

“Shit,” Sam muttered, trying to turn the dead engine while Ruin headed up the steps.

He glanced back and met her gaze through the windshield, unable to resist the childish wink before he went in. Take that, Princess.

****

“I don’t really care to go to the park anyway,” Luke said.

“I’ll get this fixed in no time.” Sam looked over her shoulder at the boy, her heart aching at finding the disappointment evident there. That look Ruin gave her as he walked in was pure malice, which meant he’d done something to her car. She’d find out and kick his ass if he had. She got that he was lashing out in anger over the entire situation but taking it out on a child was beyond ridiculous and she would definitely deal with him in a man to man manner.

Luke got out of the car and she watched him go inside then looked at Scriber who sat there, silent. “This was stupid,” Sam finally said, yanking the keys out of the ignition.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“He didn’t even look at me! And if he did, he didn’t like a bit of what he saw and now he’s pissed at me for only God knows what.”

“Why do you think he froze your engine?” Scriber gave an inquisitive raised brow.

She dropped her jaw. “He froze my frackin engine?” She gasped, stunned. “I don’t know because he’s a maniac?”

“Try jealous maniac.” He looked out the windshield, the muscle in his smooth jaw working. “He couldn’t stand the idea of you with me.”

“I don’t believe that,” Sam said. “More like he can’t stand the idea of us having any fun while he’s miserable, and I get that to a degree but he’s being childish to hurt Luke that way.”

“It’s not that,” Scriber muttered, sliding his index finger slowly over his lower lip contemplatively.

“What are you thinking?”

“Of a plan.”

Sam gave a huge sigh. “I’m scared to ask.”

“It could be dangerous.”

“I’m not intimidated by danger, but that man intimidates me.” She pointed at the house. “Not that I won’t kick his ass, just saying.”

Scriber angled a look at her. “Well…it could piss him off.”

“More than he is?”

“A lot more.”

“Ahhh, shite.” She fought to get a cigarette out of the pack, realizing it was her last. “How…much more exactly?” She pressed the lighter in.

“The kick my ass kind?” Challenge danced in his near black eyes.

“God that makes me nauseous.”

“I can handle him.”

“Not that, I know you can handle it, I’m sick at what you’re getting at, what this might require. Spit it out.” She pulled the lighter out and angled her eyes to Scriber.

“I just need to wake up his…intimate needs.”

She inhaled a huge drag. “Is that your nice way of saying his need to have sex?”

“Not sex, no. That needs more time, unfortunately.”

Sam gave a
ha
. “Not unfortunate for me, no.”

“If I were to try to kiss you…of course I wouldn’t, but that would do it, I’m certain. He can barely stand me looking at you, and touching you in any way makes him crazy.”

“Wow,” Sam strangled the steering wheel with both hands now. “I’m…sadly astonished.” She shook her head, confused and feeling like shit. “I mean…I feel sorry for him, it’s like… being forced.” She turned to Scriber, not hiding how much that troubled her. “I really don’t like this. He’s not liking me, it’s that he can’t help himself like…like a vampire with a blood lust or a zombie that craves brains, it’s just not the same as real love.” She stared at him, then looked down at herself. “And look at me, I’m…baiting him, I’m baiting the poor man who can’t help want the ugly chick that thinks she’s a dude, this is… this is so wrong on so many levels.”

She took another drag, realizing her hand was shaking. “Isadore was beautiful and I’m--” Sam held up a warning hand at Scriber’s sigh. “Don’t even say it,” she shook her head firmly, “don’t you dare say it, I’m not stupid and I’ll get pissed if you try to convince me I even compare to her.”

“I wasn’t,” Scriber said. “You and Isadore are night and day, I give you that. But to say you’re not beautiful is just wrong and not a judgment you’re qualified to make. Clearly.”

“Okay stop, I didn’t mean to make this about that, the point is, I may be not so hard to look at if you…angle your head or… use your second sight like one of those pictures in a picture…. Okay, why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re very funny.”

“Is that a joke? I can’t really tell with you.”

“It’s not a joke, you’re funny that you would think something so preposterous.”

She faced forward with a sigh, back to strangling the steering wheel again. “This is fracking insane.”

“How about you just trust that I wouldn’t lie to you? And when the moment comes, follow my lead.”

“Dear God,” she whispered. “Look at me, I am sucking at this, I’m a nervous wreck,” she whispered. “The last time I sucked this bad at something was when I tried to learn to dance.”

“I am sorry, Sam.” She turned at hearing the sincerity in the silky voice. “But we need your help with this one. And…” he looked nodding slightly, “this will also help him in many other ways. I know it’s soon and sudden and he’s still got one foot in her grave, but more than you can possibly know rides on this.”

She stared at him for several moments. “You’re asking me to kill him, you realize that?”

“I’m asking you to help him live. Until he’s free of Isadore, he’ll suffer. And the only way for him to be entirely free is for him to connect entirely to you.” Scriber looked at her then. “Don’t flinch.” He brought his hand up to her cheek and stroked it with the back of his fingers. “He’s watching.”

“Ohhhh shite!” She closed her eyes as guilt snaked through her until she couldn’t breathe. “I can’t,” she gasped, hurrying out of the car. “I can’t.” Even knowing it was needed ten different ways for a thousand different reasons, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t have him touch her knowing it was hurting Ruin. The thought of hurting him more than he already was, made her physically sick.

She opened the house door and hurried to her room, tripping on the damn threshold as she went feeling like an untrained prostitute.

Closing herself in, she locked the door and held on to the handle while catching her breath, her legs like noodles. She turned for the bed and a huge dark form at the far wall made her scream. She finally recognized tattoos and arms crossed over a chest but knowing it was Ruin didn’t make her feel a bit better.

He didn’t move or speak and Sam fought to think of an appropriate response for the insane emotions roiling through her, spinning her mind in every direction she’d never been in before.

“I’m… sorry.” God, really? But it was the only response that seemed to fit every thought flying through her mind.

“For what?”

His low, cold, voice made her stomach queasy. “For…everything.”

He gave a derisive little snort and pushed off the wall. “You realize how stupid you look?”

Sam swallowed down the bile in her throat, her eyes glued to him.

“Yes,” she barely managed. She surely did realize.

“You look like a slut. Is that the kind of woman you’ve dreamed of being? If so you’re doing fantastic.” He approached like death in slow motion and Sam was frozen to the spot. “Did Scriber pick those clothes out for you?”

She nodded without thinking, operating on emergency reflex now.

“You think I don’t know what you and he are up to?” He towered before her now, the lines in his face harsh and formidable. “You think
you
could tempt me?” He angled his head slowly. “You think
you
can erase her from my memory? My body? My soul? What ever happened to…preserving that?”

Sam had no answer for the scathing question except, “I’m sorry.” She shook her head barely, fighting the stupid sob in her throat. “I won’t…won’t do it again. You’re right, it’s… it’s wrong,” she gasped, dreadful embarrassing tears rolling down her face. “I was just trying to help.”

His face slowly came closer. “You lie,” he whispered. “You want me to want you.”