thirty-nine: in which she gets a debt repaid

"Fill me with rage, and bleed me...dry" –Hurts, Mercy

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I don't know whose blood I'm tasting.

At first, I was amazed that I still had any sense of taste when I was dead. And I did think I had died. How else could I explain the fact that I wasn't in any more pain? The fact that I felt like if I opened my eyes, I'd smile because everyone I'd ever loved would be around me?

That was the exact moment I crashed back to reality.

It felt like my chest was being crushed by a heavy weight – and that heavy weight was James McNally's immobile body. The excruciating pain returned to me quickly after that. I was on fire – burning from the inside out and outside in. Every gasp of air made my ribs burn and ache, burn and ache.

I should have died.

With every ounce of strength I possessed, I shoved McNally off of me.

Lying insentient beside me, he seemed dead. The last few moments before I went unconscious came back to me.

How I'd stabbed him.

How I'd stabbed him again and again and again.

How I'd killed him.

I felt my heart swell in my chest, and I pressed two fingers to McNally's throat. It was crazy, hoping that he was still alive. I was crazy – but at the end of the day, I didn't want to be this person. This person willing to do anything to survive, even if it meant killing someone else.

I was thinking all these things, my brain fuzzy and my body weak, when I felt it, tapping faintly against my fingertips like butterfly wings.

A pulse. He has a pulse!

I dragged myself onto my knees, gasping from the pain. Any and every movement I made resulted in an almost blinding agony, and it took everything in me not to just give up and collapse into a heap beside McNally – and die.

You can do this, Maya, I told myself, when it was beginning to look like I couldn't. Just get up. Stand up. Walk out of here. Do it.

It was faint, but I could still hear the gunfire. McNally must've taken me down to another atrium of the house, far away from everything else. He must've thought that I wouldn't walk out of here, that I wouldn't live. He didn't know me.

You can do this, Maya.

Time ticked by. Sweat snaked down my back. I braced myself on one knee and made myself stand. It hurt. God, it hurt, and I couldn't tell if it was sweat, blood or tears clouding my vision. Probably a combination of all three.

One step forward became two, and then three, until I found myself leaning against the cold concrete wall, trying to catch my breath. It felt like I'd just run a marathon and every muscle in my body was burning from the exertion.

I made the mistake of turning around one last time – and instantly regretted it.

I wiped my eyes, wanting to make sure I wasn't seeing things, wasn't hallucinating. But I knew I wasn't. I knew that what I was seeing, hanging from a hook like a meat carcass at the butchery, was Keegan's body. How hadn't I noticed it before? How hadn't I screamed and screamed and screamed until my throat went dry? Right at this moment, I couldn't even muster the energy for that. Instead, a sob was ripped from my throat, and I thought I just might die of sadness then and there.

Don't look.

But it was too late, wasn't it? That image would forever be burned to my eyeballs, forever haunt me. I bent over, retching, but all that left my mouth was blood. Wiping it away pitifully, I turned away, intent on getting out of here. The door was within my line of vision, a big, shiny metal door that would be a bitch to wrench open...

But I would do it. I would do it.

Holding onto the wall for support, I paused between each step toward the exit. My head was pounding with a killer headache and every tiny movement made it worse. And still, I moved. Determination quickened my pace, despite how I was hurting, and when I finally made it to the door, I could feel the renewed moisture on my cheeks that told me that I was crying.

And now for the hardest part.

The door was bolted shut and just the simple act of moving my fingers to work the unlock each lock with the turn of a simple dial was taking its toll on me. Once I had the last one unlocked, I summoned up all the energy I had on reserve to jerk the door open wide enough for me to slip through.

Out in the hallway, the gunfire was ridiculously loud. From where I was standing, I could see what looked like the cells that Sebastian and I had made our home for the past few days, and that was how I knew that I was still in the basement, albeit further away from the entrance.

"Hello?" someone called – a female – banging on the iron bars. "Please! Help us!"

I turned abruptly, making myself dizzy. I tried to speak but no words came out. Heck, it hurt to do so much as breathe, let alone swallow. Still, I moved toward the place where the voice was coming from. Empty cells lined either side of me, until I finally got to one that was occupied.

"Oh, thank God!" one woman said on a sob. "Please, you have to get us out of here!"

She was tall and blonde, and the dress she was wearing might have been peach a long time ago, but now, it was filthy and blackened. Another woman sat slumped against the wall, shivering and crying.

Keys, I thought, looking around me.

"The keys are hanging over there," the blonde told me, as if reading my mind. "Please. Hurry."

Hurry. Right. Easier said than done.

I found that my head hurt a lot less if I gripped the sides, as if I were keeping my brain from rattling around inside my skull. There was a bunch of keys hanging on a hook opposite the women's cell, like Roisin had wanted to taunt them, or something. So close but so far away? I snatched them, choosing one that looked like it might fit into the keyhole. My first choice was wrong but on my second try, I got the door open.

The blonde sobbed her thanks to me, rushing to the other woman's side, slapping her awake.

"Tammy!" she hissed, trying to pull the other woman to her feet. "Tammy, come on! We gotta go!"

"Are you...Portia?" I rasped, remembering something Sebastian had mentioned. The entertainment.

The blonde glanced at me. "Yeah. And this is my sister, Tamara." She went back to trying to get her sister to her feet. When she bent over slightly, I noticed the dry trail of blood twisting its way down her legs. I tasted acid on my tongue.

Leaning against the bars for fear that I might collapse, I wished I could help her. I could barely support myself, so how could I even contemplate helping someone else?

Finally, Tamara came to, and, leaning on her sister, she shuffled out of the cell and into the passage.

"You're hurt pretty bad," Portia observed, sounding horrified. She met my eyes. "You think you'll make it up those stairs?"

I let out a bitter laugh that I instantly regretted. My ribs were still burning. "I think so."

She looked unconvinced. "If not, I'll help you. You saved our lives. There's no way I'm leaving you behind."

Portia and Tamara walked ahead of me. My steps were slow and measured but at least I was still moving. I didn't want to think too hard about my injuries, or what I'd done to escape.

Or who I'd left behind.

The cell I'd shared with Sebastian was empty. I tried to ignore the pain but lifting my feet each time was becoming torture. Even so, I made it upstairs, up on to the landing.

"Do you know which way?" Portia asked, still holding her sister up.

"I..." My voice trailed off. Panic seized my vocal chords.

Portia's attention was on her sister, whispering something in her ear, so she didn't see what I saw.

Roisin was coming down the narrow hallway, nursing a bleeding shoulder. Noticing us, she stopped abruptly, and then with an almighty growl, she came at us.

"Portia!" I yelled, but really, there was nowhere for us to go, except back downstairs, or forwards – to face Roisin.

Silver glinted in Roisin's hands, and just one twist of her hand had her cutting across Portia's face, shocking her into letting her sister go.

"Where," Roisin snarled, "do you think you're all going?"

I grabbed her by her shoulder, wrenching her away from the other women and unwittingly pressing my finger into what felt like a gaping bullet hole in her shoulder. Roisin howled with pain, reaching for my hand with her uninjured one and twisting. An unbelievable burning sensation radiated through my arm, and it took me a while to realize that she'd cut me. Ripped her blade across my upper arm.

I sucked up the pain, embraced it, and shoved her away. Her head hit the wall with a sickening smack, but all she did was smile.

"You killed Keegan," I whispered – or maybe I said that in my head.

I couldn't tell anymore; couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. Surely, this wasn't actually happening to me, to the people I cared about. Surely this was a dream – a terrible nightmare – and I would wake up in Jacob's arms any moment, sweating and sobbing.

"You're like Helen of Troy," Roisin said suddenly, approaching me. "Men will die for you. The only thing is, they'll be dying in vain...because I am going to kill you."

"Men...like James?"

It was stupid, taunting her, but when her eyes swiveled toward the basement door, to where she'd probably last seen McNally, I knew it was worth it. She bared her teeth at me, like a rabid dog, and then she pounced.

There's something to be said for adrenaline. It gave me the boost I needed to fight back, to survive.

Roisin was screaming incoherently and maybe I was, too, but once I managed to knock her onto the ground, all bets were off. She was smaller than me, but stronger, and she knew it. Her injured shoulder was nothing to my broken body – but when I looked down at her, into her empty green eyes, I saw her taking Keegan's life, and I grew stronger.

More burning. She'd stabbed me. I made myself go numb, made myself shrug off the pain.

My hands – they were wrapped around her neck – and I didn't know how they'd gotten there.

Roisin writhed and twisted beneath me, her scarred face red with rage. More burning. In my side, maybe. I squeezed.

Are you really going to do this?

I didn't know. I didn't know anymore. It was too much, and I wished someone would just take away all this pain in my heart and in my body and make me sleep for a little while.

Roisin struggled under me. I could feel her trachea, could feel her pulse. Me straddling her meant that I could look deep into her eyes while her life faded.

"For Keegan," I said – or maybe I only thought it.

I heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and still, I squeezed. Roisin's men would have to put a bullet in my head to stop me. That would be the only way she'd live.

Shoot me... Shoot me...

The bullet came – right between Roisin's eyes.

For the longest time, I stared at the blood seeping out from her skull. My fingers loosened their hold, and I looked up.

Sin looked down at me, slowly crouching down to say, "Hey, now we're even, sweetness."

***

Just wondering, though, if there was a song that perfectly described Jake and Maya's relationship, what would it be? For me, it's Genghis Khan by the amazing group, Miike Snow (if you haven't heard this awesomeness, LISTEN TO IT). I mean, it describes how Jake can (occasionally) get perfectly! Anyway, just wondering!