Shadowblood Heir by J.S. Morin

Author:J.S. Morin [Morin, J.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781942642220
Publisher: Magical Scrivener Press
Published: 2018-02-19T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Seven

We never got around to that whole plan about checking into a motel. I’d enjoyed the idea of the old lady with her glasses on a chain giving us dirty looks as we checked in with no luggage. But we never got a chance to play out that scenario.

We slept in Judy’s car.

The night before, I’d plotted a heist involving a team of seven, a getaway van, and costumes. This morning, I woke up in a dingy parking lot behind a lobster shack that had closed for the season. My brain could barely connect the dots that had led me so far astray from the original plan.

With the getaway on our minds, Judy and I hadn’t even explored the second USB drive. Judy had plugged it in, but the contents had been overwhelming. It was a quarter terabyte drive with hardly any room to spare.

In the passenger’s seat, Judy’s chest rose and fell. Her glasses were folded with an arm hooked on her shirt collar. She looked so… regular.

When Judy was awake and talkative, it was hard to confuse her with the mass of peasants out there who struggled to file their taxes and thought math was a four-letter word. It was also hard to confuse her with the general population who could watch sports, look strangers in the eye, and generally relax. She just wasn’t wired like regular people.

I didn’t want to wake her. But it was coming up on noon, and we’d overslept our plans to sneak back into Boston before breakfast and find out the lay of the land.

Putting a hand on Judy’s shoulder, I shook her gently.

“Rise and shine,” I whispered.

“I hate that saying,” my shadow griped.

I flashed the shadow a silent snarl so as not to involve Judy in our bickering. Playing my cards right, I wouldn’t have to follow through on that visit to Dr. Grace. Continue arguing with thin air, and Judy might still strong-arm me into seeing her.

After all, half the people who went to therapy did it just to be able to act sane. Trouble with a talking shadow still probably counted as a relationship issue.

“Come on,” I said a little louder. “We need to get home.”

Judy stirred, then woke with a sudden start. Blinking and rubbing her eyes, she felt around until she located her glasses and put them on. She was quiet a moment, eyes scanning the car. “That all happened, right?”

“Yes, it still all happened. If you want, I can record it for you to use as an alarm on your phone. ‘Yes, the world’s still fucked up. No, you’re not asleep, dreaming, or dead.’”

“Matt?”

I gave her my undivided attention in all seriousness.

“Is it OK if I’m ravenously hungry but don’t want to eat?”

With a forced chuckle to lighten the mood, I started the car. “Hey, you’re welcome to try. But sooner or later, we’ve got to eat.”

“My stomach’s in knots,” Judy went on. “I hate puking, but I feel like it would help.”

“It’s your car,” I said with a shrug.

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