Stray Fears - Gregory Ashe Page 0,43

think you’re very lucky, then,” Dag said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Are you a nurse? Or a med student? You seem to know your way around this stuff pretty well.”

I heard the question, but I just kept studying his clavicle, the little freckles on the skin there, the way the tape hugged the line of his shoulder.

“And I know,” I said, “I know Richard is helping people. But sometimes I wonder if helping people is the same as caring about people. With me, I mean, sometimes I think he likes things this way. Prefers it, I guess.” I stopped and shook my head. “Did you know doctors are high on the list of sociopaths?”

Dag frowned, and his hand closed around mine, stilling my touch. “Is he hurting you?”

“No,” I said, and I thought of the shots when things got too wild, ketamine when I was out of control, Special K for what ails you. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Elien—”

“That thing last night.” I forced myself to say, “The monster. What do you know about it?”

“I’m a little worried. What are you trying to say about Richard?”

“I think the monster is called a hashok. Someone called it that. She said it was ‘the thing in the grass.’”

Dag hesitated. Then, he released my hand and stood. “I’m going to throw these away and wash up. You should too.”

So he washed his hands, and I ditched the gloves and washed my hands, Dag’s mom asked if we wanted almond croissants and chicory coffee. I said no. Repeatedly. And somehow, I ended up back in Dag’s room with an almond croissant the size of my head and a huge mug of chicory coffee.

“It was a bear,” Dag said.

“What?”

“Last night. I thought about it. It was some kind of albino bear.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Sure it was. It probably had some kind of disease. Maybe rabies. That’s why it attacked.”

“Look me in the eyes,” I said, “and tell me it was a bear.”

Dag picked at his croissant. “It’s the only logical—”

“You saw the blue lights. You saw them. I know you did. You saw a dead man grab me. You saw Mason try to kill me, and you know Mason wasn’t . . . wasn’t himself when he did that. You saw that thing last night, and you know it wasn’t a bear. It looked like a man. But thinner. And the shape of the head was wrong. But it wasn’t a bear.”

“We were both scared—”

“Don’t do that,” I said. “The first time you pretended you hadn’t seen anything, I thought you were a coward. I know you’re not a coward, though. Last night, that was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Dag said, “except get slashed up.”

“I know you’re not a coward, so why are you pretending?”

“I don’t know.” Dag took two huge bites and demolished his croissant. Then he licked crumbs from his fingers. “The other day, I had it all straight in my head. I had convinced myself something weird was happening. I thought maybe it was drugs. Or maybe . . . maybe something else. I thought you were connected to it. But last night—yeah, I am a coward. I am terrified, Elien. That thing could have killed us, and if it wasn’t a bear, then I have no idea what it was, and I don’t know what to do, and I don’t know how to stop it, and I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

“I told you: I’ve already got enough people in my life trying to take care of me. I don’t need you to take care of me. I need you to help me.”

Dag wiped his hands on his pajama bottoms.

“Here,” I said, passing him my croissant. “You look like you could use this.”

“No,” he said. “You’re skin and bones.”

“Ha ha.”

He cocked his head like he didn’t get the joke.

“Half,” he finally said.

So I split it.

Dag worked a flake of the croissant loose and balanced it on one finger. “If it is this thing, the grass thing, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know. I asked this woman who seemed to know about it, and she said it feeds on human lives, on pain and suffering. She said it would try to kill anyone that had seen it, which includes both of us. We saw it at Ray’s. We saw it with Mason. And we saw it last night. I don’t think leaving it alone is an option, Dag. I think we have to find a way