Between the Blade and the Heart by Amanda Hocking

Author:Amanda Hocking
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

TWENTY-NINE

“You didn’t have to come with me,” I told Oona as she huffed up the flight of stairs behind me.

She’d wanted to drive me here because she didn’t think I’d properly be able to drive the luft with my injured leg since I’d overdone it last night, even though I’d been coping pretty well the last couple days. But if it made her feel better to tag along, I was happy to let her.

“No, no, I got this,” she insisted, jogging up the last few steps to catch up with me. “I do really need to start working out more. It’s ridiculous that it’s harder for me to go up those sixty steps than it was for you with your injured leg.”

“I do train for this kind of thing,” I reminded her, pausing at the landing outside Marlow’s apartment to give Oona time to catch her breath.

“Maybe I should start training with you.” She reached out to touch my bicep, firm and brawny underneath my light jacket. “Wow. Maybe I could start out slower, like with a spin class.”

I knocked at the door, and Marlow answered relatively quickly, at least for her. Her hair was still wet from a shower, and she was makeup-less, other than her usual dark red lipstick. She leaned on the doorframe, sighing at me.

“Don’t you ever call anymore?” she asked.

“You never answer when I call,” I countered, which was true. I’d tried calling her three times before I came over, but she literally never answered her phone.

Marlow raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“That’s a real nice way to talk to your daughter,” I muttered before plunging into my spiel. “I just came to tell you that we found out something about one of those draugrs, but if you don’t wanna talk—”

She instantly straightened up and her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, you found something out?” Then she glanced over at Oona. “Oh, fine, come in. The both of you.”

Marlow walked into her dim apartment, which was still fairly clean from Asher’s visit, though there were several empty alcohol bottles piled up around the sink. So either she had cleaned out a closet, or she had gone on a minor drinking binge after parting ways with Asher and me yesterday.

Some exercise equipment—free weights and a stair-stepper—was strewn about the living room, and she had on her stretch pants and a loose muscle shirt. The armholes hung low, exposing the black of her sports bra and a nasty scar that ran along her ribs below it.

Oona and I sat down on the couch, but Marlow remained standing, lighting one of her cigarillos.

“How are you doing, Oona?” Marlow asked. “Is your mom still running that dress shop?”

“I’m good,” she said, sounding exaggeratedly chipper. Like most people who had met Marlow, Oona was intimidated by her. “Yes, she is still sewing and tailoring.”

Marlow nodded, taking a long drag of her tobacco. “That’s good. Tell her hi when you see her.”

“Will do,” Oona replied.

“So.” Marlow cast her gaze on me.

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