The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,81

neck feels stiff as I turn to look at Apollo. I’m dimly aware that I’m exposed, but my hand’s shaking too much for me to successfully pull down the hem of my dress.

“Let’s go someplace else, yeah?” Apollo says, smiling so calmly you’d swear he hasn’t noticed someone was about to get murdered. “Come on. I wanna show you something.”

When I don’t move, he dips his head a bit and then presses a quick peck to my slap-stained cheek. “There. All better now.”

Again he tugs at my wrist.

Somehow I stand.

He leads me out of the lair just as I hear the thump of flesh on flesh and hear Cass groan in pain.

What. The. Fuck?

Bright sunlight bathes my face when we leave the crypt. Apollo hangs back at the doorway, his hair shifting as he checks left and right.

There’s no one in sight, but he still seems hesitant to leave the shadows and step into the light.

Vampire.

I laugh at the ridiculous thought, and Apollo throws a concerned look at me over his shoulder as he starts toward the dormitory.

“Okay there, pretty thing?”

I giggle at him.

“Sorry…it got a bit rough in there,” he says. We’re walking at a brisk pace, his fingers handcuffed around my wrist. “They’ll calm down. A few punches and they always do. Like Fight Club, right? And shit, how was that cinematography? Did you know Cronenweth deliberately underexposed the actors’ faces to force the audience to pay more attention in each shot?”

I say nothing, instead willing the world to stop bobbing up and down so hectically. I couldn’t have had more to drink than yesterday, but yesterday I’d had a good long nap before I’d attempted to walk anywhere.

Now I feel like everything I’ve consumed today has only just kicked in. I feel like I’m walking on a trampoline an inch off the ground. And every time I shift my eyes even a little, the world blurs.

“I’m drunk,” I announce.

“That’s the spirit,” Apollo replies without slowing. “Nice day for it, too.”

I finally find it in me to pull back. “No. I mean…really drunk.” I sway as soon as we come to a halt, and he steps forward to steady me by slinging an arm around my waist.

“Easy there,” he says and then starts walking again. “There’s nothing to it, see? You just keep your eyes on something that’s not moving. Like the bell tower. Can you see it?”

My head tilts back.

Fuck, that’s a big building.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Just keep looking at that. I’ll make sure you don’t step on any snakes.”

“Snakes?” My head bobs forward, and I stumble as the world takes a slow somersault. “Fuck.”

“Sorry, bad joke. No snakes. Holes. That’s what I’ll keep an eye out for. Just holes.”

“Holes,” I agree, tilting my head back again. “Who rings the bell?”

“Not a hunchback, that’s for sure.”

I giggle like a fucking idiot at that. Cool shadows replace the sun, and I sag in relief. “Made it.”

“Not yet, pretty thing. Should I carry you?”

I snort. “You can’t carry me.”

“Bitchy much?”

The world spins around me. I’m looking up Apollo’s face, his victorious grin partially hidden behind a few locks of hair.

“You jus’ call me a bitch?” I demand.

“Keep your voice down,” he says. “And yes. Because you’re being one.”

I snort again. “You’re a…you’re an asshole. You all are.”

“Quiet,” he warns in a low voice, his hair shifting as he glances left and right. My teeth click together as he starts up the staircase. “Or I’ll take you back to your room.”

I hesitate, my head bobbing against the crook of Apollo’s arm as he hurries up the stairs with me. My room? Jasper might be there? I grimace. I’m too drunk to deal with him. Or not drunk enough.

“Here,” Apollo says. He sets me down and props me against the wall like a broom as he fishes in his pockets. He takes out a bunch of keys. The keychain used to be a furry cat face. Now it’s grubby as fuck. While he looks for the right key, I start to slide down the wall. He props me back up with an absent tug on the shoulder of my dress and then herds me inside the room.

“Hey! I’ve been here before!” I head for the closest chair.

“Sure have.”

When I sit down, I see he’s leaving. “Hey, where are you going?”

He pauses at the door, turning to me. But then he closes the door without answering.

And locks it.

I sit up a little straighter and stay conscious, remember that I’m too drunk to give a