Toxic (Denazen #2)(87)

“I’m dying.” It sounded like I was complaining about something as trite as math homework. But at least I looked good. It’d been awhile since I’d really had a chance to go all out like this. Since this was a dream, I was positive my subconscious was trying to tell me something.

Instead of Meela’s horrible Marist sweatshirt, I had on my favorite eggplant-colored camisole and stonewashed jeans. I even had the set of necklaces Brandt gave me for my sixteenth birthday on, and my nails were done. An evil French, Kiernan had called it. Black with white tips.

“That thing on your shoulder?”

I nodded, fiddling with the long necklace. “I don’t think I’ve got much time left.”

“You’re in good hands. They’ll find a way through this.”

“I’m scared.” Brandt was the only person other than Kale that I’d admit it to. “There’s a way to fix it, but the fallout won’t be pretty.”

“You’ll manage. You always do.” He looked like he wanted to say more but turned away.

“I wish you were here with us. I’d feel better.”

Still facing away, his shoulders tensed. “I wanna come back to town, Dez, but I can’t. Not yet. I’m in the middle of something.”

His response stung a little. “In the middle of something? What are you up to, Brandt?”

When he turned back to face me, his mouth was open, lips moving, but no sound came out. Sighing, he pointed to the building. Mom was standing in front of the frame, two women I didn’t know on either side of her. A man moved to the first one, giving her an injection.

“Next stop,” Brandt said. The words came garbled and forced, but I could understand him. He pointed to a spot on the frame above Mom. The second floor. There was a man standing next to a barrel.

“I hate this cryptic crap.”

Everything blurred, and suddenly we were in an elevator. Brandt grabbed my hand and mashed it against one of the buttons repeatedly. When I looked, it wasn’t a floor number, but two words.

Next Level.

…

I opened my eyes to pitch black. Groping in the darkness, I finally found the lamp I’d caught a quick glimpse of before I crashed. The room was nice. Bigger than the one I’d stayed in at the Sanctuary and oddly more suited to my personality. The walls were dark gray, and the floor was carpeted in royal blue. I had to wonder if it was a funky coincidence, or if Ginger had a hand in it.

Sliding off the bed, I caught sight of a small note in front of the lamp. Two Advil sat on a paper towel. The note, in Kale’s sloppy writing, said, Dax left these. I felt slightly better than before but downed the pills, anyway, just to be safe.

A simple wooden dresser sat in the corner, drawers empty. Next to the bathroom, there was a closed door—a closet, I assumed. When I opened it, I was a little surprised.

Unlike the dresser drawers, the closet wasn’t quite empty. On one side, several pairs of jeans—size six—hung from hangers while a small collection of shirts hung from the other. Pulling one down, I smiled. Black stretch cotton tank with the Hot Topic logo on the bottom. Grabbing a pair of jeans, I took the tank and hurried to get out of the leather pants.

Once changed—and feeling much less chafed—I wandered into the hall. There was no way to tell for sure since I’d lost my cell again, but I didn’t think much time had passed.

There was a sound coming from several rooms down. A soft, constant tapping. When I followed it around the small bend in the hall, I saw it was Kale. He was focused intently on the large white punching bag hanging from the ceiling in what I guessed was the exercise room.

For a minute, all I could do was stare. He was like a demon possessed. Feral and deadly. Beautiful. It was a side I didn’t see often. His Denazen side, he’d called it once. All the rage and darkness channeled for the sake of one single goal. Survival.

Focused on the bag like it had personally been responsible for stealing his freedom, he let each blow scream a message in eerie clarity. Never again. He’d kill them all one by one if they ever got their hands on him—or he’d die trying. I’d never let that happen.

I was so lost in thought, I didn’t realize he’d seen me.

He steadied the bag and smiled. “You’re awake.”

I stepped inside the room. “How long was I out?”

“Not long. I’ve been in here for two hours.”

“You didn’t get any sleep?” I could see he was tired. Dark circles hung like rocks under his eyes, and his posture was just slightly stooped. All little things no one else would have picked up on. To me, though, they screamed.

He stiffened. “I can function effectively on no sleep.”

“This isn’t Denazen, Kale. No one expects you to function on no sleep.”

He slid down the wall. “You heard me talking to Jade earlier.”

“I wasn’t spying on you, I swear. If it’ll make you feel better, when you were telling her all that stuff about Denazen, I felt guilty.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Guilty?”

“You didn’t want me to know any of that stuff.”

“Jade asked me why. Did you hear my answer?”

Instead of answering his question, I sat down across from him and sighed. “My whole life, Brandt was there for me. He always had my back. No matter what. I needed to vent, he was there. I needed to cry, he was there. If I was being stupid or about to do something epically dumb, Brandt was there to stop me—or in some cases, drag my ass to the ER.” I nudged his sneaker with my bare foot. “And then I met you. You’re everything Brandt was—and more. Do you understand what I’m saying?”