Chapter 18 - The Man of Wind and Moss

They climbed into Marco’s car and sped down the road and pulled over into what might’ve once been an auto shop but was now abandoned. Once the car was parked, Sasha started crying again and Marco just sat there and watched his hands tremble. Why were they bloody? Was it his blood? He checked the mirror, and the culprit was his mouth and the stitches that had ripped. He wiped at it with the sleeve of his black jacket. He looked all over to make sure the coast was clear. All he saw was parking lot and, everywhere, all over, weeds reached out of cracks.

“We gotta get out of here,” Marco said.

Sasha looked around the car.

“I mean out of Florida,” he clarified. “We gotta get back to the city.”

She turned to him, afraid. “You said you saw something.”

“I think Dean is still alive. Is still around.”

“That can’t be. I made a deal. I gave him up.”

“Coming back from Keith’s, I saw his truck. I nearly crashed into it.”

“Really? What did he say? Is he okay?”

“I—I don’t know. I fucking ran. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t normal. It was like falling apart with branches. And then, later, someone came into my house.”

“And you know for certain it was him?”

“Does it fucking matter?” he hissed. He reached into the center console and grabbed his bottle of Advil. He shook some out and jammed them into his stiff mouth. “Someone is tracking me down. The deal went wrong.”

Sasha got that faraway look again like she was doing math. “I don’t know. I don’t know what happened. Doll is dead. And, I think, Pansy’s kid is still alive. So, it’s like an outstanding balance. And maybe—”

“Dean didn’t die out there, did he?” Marco asked.

“Maybe not.”

“And maybe he made the same bargain you did. Except for me. We have to undo it.”

“Marco, Doll is dead. Doll is beyond dead.”

“But Dean isn’t. And Pansy’s kid is alive. Look, we made some big mistakes. We fucked up bad. But we can undo this. Nobody has to know.”

“But I don’t know how to—”

“Well figure it out!” Marco screamed. Bloody spittle came out and landed on the dashboard and the steering wheel. “I didn’t ask you to do this! But you figured it out then, didn’t you! You brought me to Black Arms, and you got the book. You did this!”

“I did it for you!” she yelled back.

“I didn’t ask you to!” More spittle. More blood.

“I said I was sorry!” she said. “But I wanted a change! So, I did something. And then we got lost! Okay! And then I had to help you. And maybe I shouldn’t have, I knew I wasn’t going to be appreciated, but I did it. For you. For us. Because I fucking love you! Okay!?”

Marco took a labored breath. He swallowed the blood in his mouth.

“But you’re still obsessed with her,” Sasha concluded.

“Sasha, this isn’t about my feelings for her. If we don’t stop it, then something horrific will happen.”

“But I made the deal. If we do stop it, something horrific will happen to her regardless. It’s her or her baby. I told you that already. Doll for me. I’m safe. Dean for you. He must’ve made a counteroffer. And the baby for Pansy.”

“Not unless we can undo it,” he shrugged. He remembered how he kept repeating the phrase “hike-in” over and over like it defined itself. Undo it. Undo it. “We can at least try.” He remembered, also, their toast in the hot tub. To trying.

Sasha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Finally, she nodded. “Okay. You’re right. Let’s go back to New York and maybe I can put a block on us.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s like a covering so other eyes can’t see us.”

“. . . Are you seeing yellow eyes too?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Be honest, Marco, are you experiencing other . . . symptoms?”

“A little.”

“We’ll go back right away. We can fix this.”

He drove her back to the church parking lot, and her car was the only one there. He climbed out and examined her back seat and her trunk and under the car even though he mostly knew it was only happening to him. Like she said, Doll was dead—Grafted—and now she was safe. That part of the deal was finalized.

Before she got in the car, he pulled her in and wrapped his arms around her. He was furious with her, horrified by her, but still, she was all he had. She understood what was happening. She had experienced it with him. He wasn’t certain if he loved her or was in love with her, but with everything going on, it felt moot. They needed each other.

She pulled back and looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. The bug bites and scars were still visible on her arms and neck. Her lips were chapped, and her boxy glasses were dirty from their run through the woods. “I am sorry,” she said. “You know that right?”

“I know,” Marco said. “We’re going to get through this. But we have to stay together.”

She nodded, took off her glasses, and hugged him again and, again, her tears wet his shirt. It felt good to be grounded. This moment was a real, human moment, and he knew that going forward, they would be fewer and further between.