Conned by Kim Fielding

Author:Kim Fielding [Fielding, Kim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kim Fielding

14

“I need more.”

The bottle of Bacardi was empty on the floor, and Abe sat slumped against the wall where Thomas had propped him. The salty iron taste of blood remained on his tongue.

Thomas looked as if he hadn’t slept for a week. “That’s all I have here.”

“Take me to my house.”

Thomas nearly had to carry him down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk, and Abe would have fallen if there hadn’t been a lamppost to lean on. The taxi driver was unwilling to let Abe into the car until Thomas offered him an extra five dollars. “He pukes or dies, you’re cleaning it up, pal.”

Abe would have laughed if he’d been able.

He grayed out for the ride to the Richmond District and barely noticed when Thomas dragged him up the front stairs and fumbled in Abe’s pocket for the house keys. An endless journey up the stairs, and then Abe was flat on his own mattress, Thomas tugging off his shoes. Abe’s overcoat, suit coat, and hat had already disappeared, but he couldn’t remember when. “Magic,” he rasped.

“You’re burning up.”

The fever—he hated that part. It hadn’t happened when he’d allowed himself to be possessed by a dybbuk; that time he’d been so icy that it took days for him to thaw. An ibbur, though, was all about fire. “Booze. Please.”

While Thomas was downstairs fetching liquor, Abe managed to get the rest of his clothing off, although he ripped his shirt in the process. He lay naked and senseless on the mattress until Thomas returned, propped him up, and held a glass to his mouth.

“You ought to go to hospital,” Thomas said as he trickled in the slivovitz.

Abe shuddered despite the heat. “No.” He wouldn’t be able to resist the resident spirits in this condition. Besides, there was nothing doctors could do for him.

Thomas administered more slivovitz and at some point got Abe under the blankets, head supported by pillows. He brought toast, but Abe refused. He couldn’t stomach anything but alcohol right now.

Eventually Abe fell into a restless doze. Every time he opened his eyes he expected to be alone, but Thomas was always there, sitting by the window and smoking. When he saw Abe stir, he’d hold the glass for him again. It was a sweet comfort, although Abe knew not to get used to it.

He awoke to find himself wrapped tightly in Thomas’s arms. He was going to pretend he still slept, but Thomas huffed at him. “Nightmares.”

“Yeah?”

“You were saying things I couldn’t understand. Yiddish and Hungarian, I expect. You seemed angry. You got out of bed and fell flat on your face. I had to hold you to keep you here.”

“Oh.” Abe wasn’t prone to episodes like that, but then, he also wasn’t accustomed to letting spirits use him to control other people.

They remained quietly wrapped together for a time. Abe could feel Thomas’s heartbeat, steady and strong, and the soft fabric of his undershirt and underwear felt nice on Abe’s skin. Faint city sounds wafted in through the window: the rattle of streetcars, children calling, a car honking its horn.

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