Grievous (Scarlet Scars #2)(46)

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Imagining that jackass dying a horrible death.”

“That’s all well and good, but there’s still work to be done,” I say, “so let’s count these fucking oranges so we can all go home.”





Chapter Ten





There was a time, less than a year ago, when the little girl still believed in fairy tales. Not those crazy ones from the storybooks, no... she believed in those happily-ever-after, bad guys are punished as the heroes persevere stories, the ones from the cartoons her mother watched with her.

She loved Cinderella. She loved Snow White.

Princesses were pretty, and happy, and kind.

But more than all of that, more than anything else, the little girl really loved Toy Story.

Be like Buzz and Woody.

She thought her toys were real, that they had feelings and came alive, too, when she wasn’t looking, but all those months later, she wasn’t sure anymore.

Because Buster hadn’t moved at all from the mantle. The little girl couldn’t save him, but he wasn’t saving himself.

“Bye-bye, Buster,” she whispered, being oh-so-quiet, standing in the doorway to the den in the darkness, as the Tin Man slept hunched over in a chair by the fire.

She gave the bear one last look before going back to the bedroom they called hers.

It was the middle of the night. A little bit of snow covered the ground outside, the sky cloudy, the air so cold it fogged up her window. She shivered as she shoved it open, making a face when it made a screeching sound, like grinding metal. Like a rusted Tin Man.

She was scared—so scared—but she didn’t let it stop her. Her mother told her to name her fears, so she called it Buzz Lightyear. Climbing out of the window, onto the small roof, she crawled along it, teeth chattering. It was only the second story, but she felt like she was way up in the sky. But still, she sat down, scooting to the edge, and took a deep breath.

“Be like Buzz,” she whispered to herself. “He can fall with style.”

It took her only a moment to gather the courage to jump—or more like roll, just tucking and falling into a small snowdrift on the grass below. She cringed, landing with a thud, her whole body hurting, but she tried to be quiet so nobody would hear her.

Her arm stung, and her head felt all woozy, but she got to her feet and started walking, heading away from the palace she hated.

The little girl had no idea where she was going, no idea where the Tin Man even lived. But she remembered it was just one road to the beach, so she went that way, with nothing more than the clothes on her back and the red-colored money the Cowardly Lion had given her.

She walked... and walked... and walked, walking forever, freezing cold, her nose running, her fingers numb, before she finally came upon the boardwalk. Nobody was out there at that hour. The few people she passed along the way were too busy to even notice her. It was so dark, and she was still so scared, but she kept going, walking to the only place she knew around there.

Passing the signs that said the beach was closed, she walked out to the shoreline, the cold water touching her shoes.

Where was she supposed to go now?

“Hey, you there,” a voice called out, light flashing her direction. “What are you doing?”

The little girl turned, seeing a man approaching—a man wearing a blue uniform. A police officer.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, coming closer.

Uh-oh.

Panicked, she turned and ran, sprinting down the beach. The man gave chase, shouting for her to stop, but she kept running so hard her lungs burned as the air slapped her face. He was a stranger in the dark, and her mother had warned her about those. Hide & Seek. Frantically, the little girl looked for somewhere to hide, but she didn’t make it far before he caught her. He grabbed her arm, sending her into even more of a panic.

The little girl lashed out, swinging and fighting, kicking the officer in the ankle before trying to bite him. He subdued her, pinning her arms at her sides, as he radioed for backup.

“Let me go!” she yelled.

“Jesus, kid, calm down,” he said. “You’re not in trouble, so relax, okay?”

“Let me go!” she demanded, yet again, still struggling. “I just wanna go home again!”

“Then relax,” he said, “and I can take you home. Just tell me your name. Can you do that?”

She shook her head. She wasn’t using her words for him. He was a stranger. Stranger danger.

“Then tell me your parents’ names.”

Nothing.

“Tell me where you live.”

That, she didn’t know.

“You’ve got to tell me something, kid,” the officer said. “Anything at all.”

“I wanna go home,” she whispered. “There’s no place like home.”





Chapter Eleven





“Whatcha think?”

I glance toward the doorway of the bedroom at the sound of that question, seeing Melody standing there. She twirls, wearing a flowing little black dress and black tights, her lips bright red, a matching bow in her curled blonde hair. My gaze scans her, settling on her feet, on a familiar pair of red Louboutin pumps.

My stomach sinks.