––––––––
Gavyn: one. Dead bodies: two.
Those numbers freaked me out.
“It’s okay. Shh. It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry I puked on your boots,” I sobbed.
“Fuck the boots,” Liam said mildly. The first Liam. The real Liam. Not that the other one wasn’t real. Well, he was real...until I killed him.
“Is he dead?”
Liam Number One rolled Liam Number Two onto his back. His eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling. “Oh yeah.” He checked for a pulse and shook his head.
“I’m sorry I killed you!” I covered my hysterical mouth before any other words could come out.
Liam chuckled, but it wasn’t really a funny ha-ha laugh. It was more of an oh-my-God-I-can’t-believe-how-dumb-this-girl-is laugh. “You didn’t kill me. You killed him. I’m fine.”
“But he’s you or you’re him. You’re each other—” I continued to babble around the hand that was meant to shut me up. “And you’re dead. He’s dead. Dead-dead.” A panic-stricken hiccup bubbled from my chest.
Liam stood up and crossed to me. His fingers curled into my shoulders and he looked me straight in the eyes. “You did well.” And then he pulled me into his arms and held me so tight I could hardly breathe. I nuzzled my face into his shirt and pretended my eyelids were glued shut. I’d killed the right Liam, I knew. Mostly because this one was holding me like I’d always dreamt of being held and not trying to kill me. And he had good grammar.
Some time passed. I don’t really know how much because I was intently focused on how Liam’s arms felt around me. He made me feel small and girly and safe. Really safe. Plus his chest was hard—not like I imagined Vin Diesel’s would be, but lean and wiry. His heart beat under my ear and his lips were in my ridiculous red hair. All of this was extremely nice and sweet and perfect, except for one thing. Well, two really, if you counted the dead body in the room.
Eek, how weird was it that I was totally into one with another one dead in the room? There was something seriously wrong with me.
I pushed him away. “Ugh, you smell like puke.”
His serious face broke into a smile. “So do you, Princess.” He looked over his shoulder at Liam Number Two, who hadn’t moved because he was dead, dead, dead. Liam Number One blocked my view of him. I suspected it was bloody. One didn’t get stabbed and then not bleed. “Why don’t you go take another shower? I’ll take care of him.”
I stared at him for so long that he grew uncomfortable and started fidgeting. “What?”
I tilted my head. “How can you act like this is normal? You are lying dead over there and talking to me over here. This is not normal.”
He shrugged. “For me it is.”
“And...why was Liam Number Two trying to kill me?” I demanded, waving my arm in the dead Liam’s direction.
“Liam Number Two?” He smiled like this was funny, damn him.
“Yes. You’re Liam Number One. Duh.”
He grinned that cocky, purely male, shit-eating grin. “Of course I am.”
“You’re not answering me.”
Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s complicated.”
My hand went onto my hip all on its own. Insolence was bred into me like second nature. “Well, clearly.” If it wasn’t complicated I might still be at home. In my own bed and not in some jungle-filled other reality with hovercrafts. (Still cool, by the way.)
“Look, I gotta get rid of him before he starts to smell.”
Ew. Seriously gross.
“Fine,” I conceded.
“Don’t answer the door,” Liam said as I headed once again to the shower.
“I got it.” Man, he sounded just like my mother. “Hey, wait.” I grabbed his arm.
“What?” Now he looked irritated, though he tried really hard to keep his expression blank.
“We need a code word.” I pointed at Liam Number Two. “So this doesn’t happen again. How will I know it’s you that comes back and not some hot-but-deadly look-alike?”
“Good idea,” he agreed, nodding. “So what’ll it be?”
I thought about it, a million code words and phrases running through my mind. The duck flies at midnight... The Redcoats are coming.... Password...
“Cupcake,” I said finally.
“Cupcake?” He smirked.
“Yeah, you got a problem with that?”
He pulled on one of my damn curls. “Nope. Whatever you want, Princess.”
“Stop calling me Princess,” I seethed, before slamming the bathroom door in his face.
***
“Cupcake,” Liam said upon his return to the hotel room. I was sitting on the bed staring at the spot where Liam Number Two had died.
Correction: Where I killed him.
I am a murderer.
Either he was a really clean die-er (so not a word, I know, but maybe someone should write to Webster, because this is important), or Liam Number One had found a way to clean the blood out of the carpet. But there was no blood, thank God.
Liam stopped at the edge of the bed, his gaze following mine. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” I replied dully. I wanted to forget it ever happened. But of course it was etched into my brain like bas-relief art. No longer was I just a one-armed Ginger. Now I was a murdering one-armed Ginger. I felt nauseous, but fortunately there was nothing left in my stomach.
He sat next to me and took my hand. His boot hit the side of my sockless foot. “Nice boots,” I said. They were the same badass ones from before and an amazing shade of puke-free.
Great. He’d stolen boots from two dead guys today. Though technically one of those dead guys was him, so I guess that didn’t really count, did it?
“Why is everyone trying to kill me?”
Liam didn’t miss a beat. “Because you’re a murderer.”
I shoved off of the bed. “Really? You had to say that?” I glared at him, hand on my hip, eyes narrowed to slits. It wasn’t like I didn’t already feel bad enough about that.
He held up his hands. “That’s not what I meant.” He sighed. “The other Gavyn is a murderer. You’re just collateral damage.”
“And what happens if they kill all the Gavyns?”
“Ripples.”
“And what are these ripples like?” There was still so much I didn’t know. Everyone was trying to kill me for something I didn’t fully understand. It was so stupid.
“It’s likely that everyone who knows you would disappear too. It’s like some cosmic clean-up plan. We were never meant to dream shift. It messes with the balance of things,” Liam explained. He patted the bed next to him. “Come on, I promise not to call you a murderer again.”
“Or Princess?”
He smiled. “Or Princess.”
I sat back down. “And if we catch the murderer, what are we going to do with her?”
“I’m going to strangle her with my bare hands,” he said, his words dripping with so much acid that I leaned away from him. He lifted one shoulder in apology.
“Are you going to tell me why you care so much yet?” I mean, I trusted Liam. He’d saved my life, I’d saved his life. We were even and all that stuff, but if he truly needed my help, couldn’t he just tell me why?
“I don’t care. That’s the problem,” he said. Under that rough and tumble, cocky (and sexy) exterior, there was something else. I knew there was.
“Liam.” I turned until I faced him and could see his eyes. Eyes are windows to the soul, my mother said. She could always tell if I was lying just by looking in my eyes. And I’m a terrible liar, anyway. “Why am I here?”
He looked like he was actually going to answer me, but then his eyes hardened. “Well, you see, Princess, when a man loves a woman...”
I smacked him upside the head. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” Gaze locked on me, he leaned in until his lips were just millimeters away from mine. “Actually, you don’t have to be in love to do what a man and a woman do...”
Disgusted, I pushed him away from me.
“Why do you have to be a royal A-hole?” I stomped away from him, though I couldn’t go far. It wasn’t exactly a large hotel room. I climbed into the second bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. I turned my back to Liam but not before he let me see the stupid smirk on his face. “Goodnight,” I spat. Then I forced my eyes shut and pretended to ignore him.
***
“Gavyn?” Liam said, his voice high. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to sleep,” I said. “What are you doing?” My words were groggy despite the venom I put behind them.
“Please...stop,” he begged.
I rolled over. The light from the nightstand cast a dull glow over the hotel room. My eyes skipped over where Liam Number Two died. I could see Liam Number One, alone in his bed, uncovered and curled in on himself. He was naked except for boxers. His hands scratched at the horrified expression on his face.
Fear unfurled in my stomach. “Liam?”
“Gavyn—” he choked on my name. His face twisted with pain. “No...”
He was dreaming.
“Liam?” I called a little louder. If he was messing with me, I was gonna be totally pissed.
He thrashed, sending the ball of blankets at the end of the bed flying. “Gavyn. No, don’t!” His face was so devastated that I wanted nothing more than to pull him against me like a child and promise him everything would be okay.
I tiptoed across the room, though it made no sense; I planned to wake him anyway. I stood over him, unsure what to do. He’d stopped flailing and was hugging his knees, crying softly.
I touched his shoulder. “Liam?” I shook him, getting a small thrill over the firmness of his bare shoulder. “Hey.”
He came to with a yell, catching me across the jaw with his fist. He knocked me to the floor and was on top of me in an instant, hands at my throat.
I squealed. (Lame, I know.)
“Liam!” I conjured my most authoritative voice. “You’re dreaming.” My jaw throbbed and stars danced around my head. Liam glared at me, a wild and dangerous gleam in his eyes.
Slowly the light faded. He looked me over: my frizzy carrot hair, my freckles, and finally my stump. I waved it at him like a major dork. He loosened his grip on my neck and I took a deep breath. “Cupcake,” I whispered.
He rubbed both hands down his face and stood up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize...”
“That it was me?” I finished for him. “I guess it’s fair. I did sort of kill you earlier.” Okay, it wasn’t really funny, but Liam smiled a little. He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. “I’m fine,” I assured him.
His ocean blue eyes inspected my face. He groaned. “Did I hit you?”
“No,” I lied. His gaze narrowed. “Okay, maybe a little. It’s not so bad. Promise.”
“You’re going to have a huge bruise.” He gingerly touched my jaw and I winced. He swallowed hard and I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “I’m so sorry.”
I shook him off. “I’m fine. Really.” I offered him a smile. It was the one I used to smile at people when they made fun of me behind my back and thought I couldn’t hear. Admittedly, it was a little scary.
He didn’t buy it.
“Come on. Let’s just go back to bed.” I grabbed his blankets off the floor and started remaking the bed, needing my hand to be busy. Liam watched me. It seemed like he wanted to say something and I wondered why the hell he didn’t. Usually he had such a way with words and I wasn’t angry or anything. Mostly just surprised.
I patted the bed and he lay down without argument. Before I could cover him up he grabbed my hand and pulled me down next to him. He kept pulling until my back was against his front. His breath tickled my neck and his chest hair prickled my skin.
“Li—” I started.
“Shh. Just don’t.” His voice was so tortured that I immediately snapped my mouth shut. “Please.”
Liam covered us with the blankets. His warm hand trailed down my neck and across my shoulder. It tickled the scar on my would-be arm and finally settled on my stomach. I held my breath, unsure of what I was supposed to do. My mind went absolutely blank.
Liam’s breath evened out.
With shaking fingers, I touched his hand where it rested on my stomach. Though I thought he was asleep, his fingers intertwined with mine.