Snake Eyes by Hillary Monahan

Author:Hillary Monahan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: Rebellion Publishing Ltd

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THEY DIDN’T HAVE two double-bed rooms at the motel, so they got two rooms side by side instead. It was a mom-and-pop-owned and -operated place called the Honeybee, with a yellow brick exterior, floral wallpaper in every room, and a solid market share of dried flowers and Yankee Candles. The furniture was covered with plastic, which Naree on a brighter day would have called “couch condoms,” but after what happened at the gas station, she wasn’t in much of a jokey mood. Neither was Tanis, for that matter; Bernie’s injury was serious, like ‘need a mystical healer’ serious, and even then, magic didn’t fix everything. Gorgon toxin wasn’t something people had handy antidotes for.

Maybe she’ll just lose the arm. Maybe it’ll stop there.

“Just” an arm. “Just.”

Hell.

“Are you hungry?” Tanis whispered in Naree’s ear after check-in.

“Yeah. Yes. Please,” she replied, voice small, her face swollen from crying in the car. Tanis handed her the room key, eyeballing Bernie. A chicken-foot worry mark indented the middle of her forehead, and every few seconds she shuddered, a full body thing that made her back hunch and her eyelids flutter. It was obvious the arm was hurting her, the gray stain up to her wrist now and running into her forearm. Her veins bulged beneath the skin, black instead of blue. Her fingertips had blackened too.

“You two head to the room. I’ll get some food. Bernie, you hungry?”

“I’ll eat,” she said flatly.

The woman behind the counter, a middle-aged Latina with graying hair at her temples, a sensible white linen suit and a nice string of pearls, pointed down the far hallway. “Our restaurant is there, and takeout or room service is available. Our fried chicken is the best in the county. Miss Belle’s an artisan with a fry pan.”

“Nice. Thanks, Miss”—Tanis glanced at her tag—“Miss St. Charles.” She turned back to Naree. “I’ll see you at the room. Lock the door, maybe take a bath while you wait for me, okay? To relax? Text me if you need anything.” Naree nodded and headed down the hall, her pony purse clutched to her chest. Bernie went with her, not looking at Tanis, not saying much of anything. She carried a single bag, too, but hers was full of guns. Big guns, heavy guns. The kind that blew off body parts.

It’d been that kind of day.

It took a half-hour for their dinner to be ready. Tanis used the time to empty the car of hearts and bags and Walmart snacks. Naree had taken her advice and climbed into the tub. When Tanis dumped off the luggage, Naree was sprawled out, submerged, her head back, her eyes closed, with earbuds in her ears. Tanis left her alone to the dulcet screeching of the Misfits to wait outside of the restaurant on a golden bench someone had hand-painted with cartoon bees. It was cute, in a kitschy way.

Well, except for the bee with the huge dick dangling from its undercarriage. That wasn’t so cute. It was, however, funny.

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