Chapter Twenty-One
The sun warmed my face. I stretched, surprised at how achy I felt. Last night had been a dilly for dreams.
I opened my eyes and stared straight into Murphy’s.
“Aarck!” I squeaked, and scrambled backward. Realizing I was naked, I yanked the blanket off of him and over me.
“What the hell?” he snapped. “You can suck me off until I nearly explode, I can screw you until you scream, but I can’t see you naked?”
“That—that—was a dream.”
“Really? Then what’s this?” He lifted his hair away from his neck to reveal a whopper of a hickey.
Now that I took inventory of my body, the aches and pains told the tale. I hadn’t dreamed of sleeping with Murphy; I’d actually done it.
I groaned and covered my face with my hands. “I don’t suppose you bummed a condom off a friendly neighborhood villager.”
“The villagers haven’t exactly been neighborly,” he said. “At least not to me.”
I lifted my head. There were worse things to worry about than waking up in Murphy’s bed. I’d had more than one dream last night, and if this one had been real, then—
“How did I get here?” I demanded.
“I have no idea. After the bloodletting,” he lifted his arm, which sported a disturbingly dirty bandage, “I was a little woozy.”
“Sorry.”
“I lived. Though with Mezareau around, I can’t say how long that condition will continue. I passed out, and next thing I knew you were naked in my arms. Being a guy, I couldn’t complain.”
“You couldn’t stop, either, I suppose.”
“I half-thought I dreamed you, too, until I woke up.” He rubbed a hand through his hair, and his silver thumb ring flashed gold in the sunlight blaring through the window. “I was pretty out of it.”
Drugs or blood loss, either way, we’d both been loopy. We’d behaved stupidly, though not completely of our own accord. What I couldn’t understand was why it was suddenly OK for the two of us to inhabit the same hut.
Catching sight of my backpack in the corner, I pounced on it, thrilled to find my extra pair of clothes.
Also inside were the remnants of the herbal sleeping draught and my zombie-revealing powder, as well as my knife—why did no one seem to fear sharp and shiny silver around here? However, the salt was suspiciously absent.
I got dressed, stuffed the zombie-revealing powder into my j eans, never could tell when I might need some, then fastened the knife at my waist. I felt much better in my own clothes, with my favorite weapons. “What did Mezareau tell you about me?” Murphy was dressed, too, but he sat hunched in a corner, appearing very un-Murphy-like. Since when did he care what people said?
“He said you were a thief, had been for a long time.”
“Huh,” he muttered. “The truth.”
“I thought you were a construction worker.”
“I am.” He glanced up. “But I was a thief—as a kid, after I left home. Sometimes I didn’t have a choice.”
I saw him as he’d once been—young, alone, starving—stealing was understandable. Then. “I was very good at it.”
He appeared to be good at everything he set his mind to. Lucky me.
“I could have gone professional.”
“I’m supposed to believe that you haven’t?”
“I’ve been working for a living. Seriously,” he said when I lifted my brows. “Look at my hands.”
I’d felt his hands. He’d definitely been using them on rougher things than me.
“I came to Haiti and I heard rumors about the diamond.”
“I thought no one ever got out of this place?”
“Someone must have, or there’d be no rumors.”
Good point.
“So instead of leaving when the j ob ended, you stayed.”
He lifted his shoulder. “I figured… one last time. Then I’d never have to worry about money again. I’d never wake up in the night thinking I was back on the street, that someone was going to kill me, or worse. I’d never be so hungry I ached with it. And what’s so bad about stealing from a sorcerer anyway?”
“Stealing’s stealing, Murphy,” I said softly. “You know that.”
He lowered his gaze, and his hair shrouded his face.
I went to the window and glanced outside. The number of villagers appeared to have doubled. They were all milling about, socializing. No one was paying any attention to us.
“Come on.” I slipped out the door and into the trees. No one raised a hue and cry, even when Murphy followed.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Last night Mezareau showed me how to raise the dead.”
Murphy stopped. One glance at his face and I knew he planned to argue with me.
“Just look, listen, then decide,” I urged.