He’d had at least three more shots of tequila when Adeline put her hand on his shoulder.
She appeared to be quite drunk. “Tell Red to kiss me.”
Remy was far from sober himself, but even he knew that was a bad idea. “Come on, Adeline. Sit down and play with us.”
Her shadow whipped toward one of the girls, smacking her in the head hard enough that she bit through the glass she was about to take a sip from.
He stood as the girl’s friends tried to use napkins to stop the bleeding.
Remy didn’t want to think about the girl’s pink teeth. The way the chunk of glass had fallen onto the table, glossy with spit. “Come on, let’s go home. It’s late.”
“Don’t you want Red to?” she shouted as he dragged her through the club.
Remy didn’t answer.
“Tell him he has to do what I say.” They were out on the street. “Or I’ll tell my father that he’s a Blight half the time.”
Remy groaned. “Stop with the threats. It’s exhausting. You’re exhausting tonight.”
“Tell him,” she insisted.
“Fine,” he lied. “I just did.” It wasn’t like Red hadn’t heard everything anyway.
“I think you’re the one that made him be awful to me,” she said.
Remy didn’t bother to deny it. They were both wasted, and likely to get into a stupid argument. They’d been together too much these past few months, living in each other’s pockets. It wasn’t normal. They shared too many awful secrets. It was making them snipe at one another.
Adeline was still sulking as they staggered into the pied-à-terre. Remy didn’t care. He was planning on going to bed and sleeping through brunch.
He sobered up fast when he saw his grandfather waiting for them. He sat on the couch, a single light on, giving his face an eerie illumination.
“Have you ever heard of Cleophes of York?” he asked them, as though continuing a conversation they’d been having.
“No?” replied Remy hesitantly. This was the price of Salt’s money, living on his terms and his time.
“A very old Blight,” Salt said. “Tethered five years ago. I think I figured out a way to talk to him without the person who’s been wearing him knowing. We’re going to try an experiment.”
Adeline frowned. “What kind?”
“Good old ketamine.” He picked up a vial of liquid from the coffee table and shook it. “I am going to inject Edmund and we’ll see if that allows Red to puppet him.”
“I’m too drunk,” Remy protested. “Mixing booze and drugs is how rock stars die.”
Salt snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself. Now sit on the couch and roll up your sleeve.”
“Seriously,” Remy said. “Tomorrow.”
“Now,” Salt corrected. “You will find that I am very serious.”
Remy gave Adeline a beseeching look, but she didn’t meet his gaze. She was looking out the window, her face carefully blank as though her thoughts were far away. She’d stopped fighting her father years ago. The price of disobedience was too high.
I could possess you without any needle, Red whispered. If you let me.
But his grandfather didn’t want to know what Red could do, he wanted to know what ketamine could do.
Then let me kill him.
No more murders, Remy thought automatically. All he needed to do was get through this unpleasant thing and then forget it. Shove more fear and anger into Red. And if sometimes Remy felt as though he’d given so much of himself away that there wasn’t much left, he was unwilling to contemplate any of the alternatives.
Remy flopped on the couch, shook off his jacket, and began unbuttoning his shirtsleeve.
Remy’s grandfather took a needle out of plastic packaging and removed the safety thing. Then he stuck it into the top of the vial and sucked up the clear fluid. He was having a hard time telling the difference between his and Red’s thoughts. They were running together in panic.
If Remy stopped breathing, no one would believe that he hadn’t taken ketamine at the club. That was the real genius of his grandfather, to set up things so that no matter what happened, he would never be accountable.
Then there was a sharp prick on the skin of his arm. He glanced at Adeline. She was watching him, her expression soft. And then he felt a sensation like falling.
He tasted blood, as though he’d bit his tongue.
The last thing he remembered was the sound of his own voice, turned unfamiliar in his ears. “No more Remy now. Only Red.”