Part Thirty Nine

You Will Find Your Way

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Part Thirty Nine of You Will Find Your Way
Giselle may or may not have had the answer all along, and Luke may or may not be finally getting closer to the answers he wants.

Seated on the vanity in the second floor bathroom, Dallas hisses through clenched teeth as Luke swipes antiseptic on the puncture wounds on her left arm.

Vibrant bruises are already ringing around the small, bloody wounds, and if Dallas didn’t heal so quickly, she’d worry that she’d have a new set of scars to either explain or find a way to be covered up by the glamor that protects the rest of the world from seeing the mess that is her right arm.

Dallas grunts when Luke twists her wrist so he can get to one of the punctures near her elbow and she plants her palm on the counter so she doesn’t fall to the side and take an embarrassing header into the sink.

Her wet hair soaks into the back of her t-shirt, making her shiver, and when Luke looks up from what he’s working on, she sees the ends of the little red marks on the side of his neck that Dallas left behind after they rinsed all the gunk off.

“Are we going to talk about this?”

Luke’s pointed question startles her hard enough that Dallas nearly takes that header into the toilet anyway, but fortunately, he’s not looking at therefore doesn’t see the near-constipated expression that crosses her face.

She owes him answers, so many answers, but—

“I’d rather not.”

It looks like Luke is resisting the urge to roll his eyes, “Hilda then.”

“I’m equally as disinclined,” Luke glares at her then and gives her wrist a pointed squeeze before dropping it and digging around for something in the first aid kit lying open on the other side of the sink, so she shakes her head and goes on. “Fine. Ask me anything, I’m an open book.”

He snorts, pulls out some ointment that her enhanced physiology doesn’t need, “For once I’d like you to tell me something that I believe.”

“I think it’s awesome that your knee twitches when I do that thing that you like.”

Luke’s ears go red and he coughs, scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, “Something not related to sex, then.”

“Well if you really want to know the deal about Hilda, then you should know that’s sex-related too.”

He shakes his head and laughs, “How much sex did you have back there?”

Rolling her eyes, Dallas reaches out and taps the side of his head with her good hand, “Not nearly as much as you think, or do you not remember what happened before I ended up over there?”

Luke goes dark, and then pale and he shifts back a half-step, “Uh yeah, sorry. Who is she, anyway?”

“One of Maris’ confidants, hence why she somehow convinced her that it was of everyone’s best interest for her to accompany Mathias back here. I don’t even know what they expect to accomplish.”

“That’s because you demand that they explain that to you, and also not let them do that.”

“In case no one has noticed, I’m a little overwhelmed and a lot angry, right now.”

Dallas tamps down on the urge to seethe, because she’d rather ride high on the endorphins from the fight and shower, so she scrubs her hand over her face, holds the other out and lets Luke start work on bandaging it, “I know I am in the running for least helpful person on the planet, but until those two jokers spill their damn secrets, I’m pretty much just as in the dark as you are.”

Luke stops wrapping her arm, looks down at her right, which is resting on her lap, her fingers tapping out an irregular rhythm on her knee, “If I hadn’t seen what I saw tonight, I would think you are completely and totally insane.”

“You’re allowed to think so either way.”

He stares at her hand for a while, probably sees the old, yellowed bones instead of pale flesh and—it’s not like she can blame him.

It took her years to get used to her new arm.

“Hilda and Mathias both had a hand in training me once I recovered,” Dallas blurts. “They helped me get used to my new body, such as it was.”

“Trained you and then some.”

She shrugs, “It’s not like there were a lot of options out there.”

——

When they get back downstairs and turn into the living room, Dallas stops short, quick enough that Luke bumps into her shoulder and sending her stumbling forward a little before his hands on her hips steady her and she is—

Way too exhausted for, well, whatever this is.

She blinks, blinks again, “Did I step into an alternate universe? Again?”

“You seem to have all your limbs,” Hilda says, looking her up and down. “So apparently not.”

It’s impossible to resist the urge to glare, because it’s either that or she’s going to try to strangle Hilda and throw her bodily off the front porch, “I wasn’t asking you.”

Giselle is frantically scribbling something on the skinny notepad they use for groceries, and she consults something on her phone before she hands it over to Hilda and then looks up, “I was on the right track,” she says. “But I forgot after you interrupted my lecture and then Luke found out everything and we had to explain it to him and then Doctor Sweeney decided it was a great time to be a thorn in our sides.”

“Giselle, what are you talking about?”

“Remember that Post-It?”

You Will Find Your Way continues with Part Forty

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A life-long college sports fan and forever bitter about the country's east coast biases, Kathryn, the Fake Redhead, graduated from the University of Arizona with a BA in Creative Writing, emphasis in poetry because she felt the fiction studies emphasis was too pretentious. She is currently helping other writers hone their craft while she pursues her dreams of becoming a published novelist.

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