Ribbons of steam in the air were white and heavy. I didn’t want to think about it.
The entire world went glaring white for a minute, and the next thing I knew Graves was holding me up and awkwardly peeling the sleeves of the flannel shirt off my goose bump-covered arms. I struggled out of my T-shirt, swaying as he held me up. My teeth clicked like castanets, and he went for my jeans while looking grimly up over my shoulder. My bra was wet too, but thankfully not dirty.
My fingers were like wet sausages, too clumsy to do much. The jeans were loose, and he let out a low whistle when he saw the bruises ringing my shoulder, my ribs, and the fresh ones beginning on my arms and the side of my right leg. My socks were filthy, and I’d lost a sneaker somewhere. I honestly didn’t remember where. I hadn’t even noticed it was gone.
His hands were scorching hot; he dragged me to the lip of the closest tub and paused for only half a second, looking up at the ceiling like he was gathering himself. His beat-up black nylon wallet landed on the floor three feet away, and he pitched down the steps and into the huge tub with me, fully clothed, his shoes giving one forlorn underwater squeak before I lost my footing and cried out miserably. It felt like being dipped in hot lava, but he held onto me, guiding me down.
I’d never been in the baths in my underwear. The feeling was weird, like sitting in a hot tub full of Jell-O while wearing a swimsuit that definitely wasn’t made for this sort of thing.
“Dru?” For the first time that evening, he sounded scared. “Come on. Say something.”
The chattering had stopped, but I was still shivering. Somehow my arm had ended up around his waist, and he settled onto the seat right next to me. The surface of the bath crackled against his sweater. I gasped again, my skin pain-peeled like after a sunburn, and tipped my head back.
Bubbling not-water turned gray, dirt swirling through it before it was whisked away by the current.
A leaf fell out of my hair, hit the turbulent surface, and was pulled under. The not-water was neck-deep on me, and only chest-deep on him.
“Dru?” Now he sounded close to panic, and I realized I was making another low, keening sound.
My throat was full of something too hot and nasty to be tears. “Say something, dammit.”
I swallowed the weird moaning sound I was making. My mouth opened. “S-s-s-something.” I paused. “D-d-dam-mmit.”
He snorted. The laugh caught him sideways, his usual bitter, sarcastic little bark, and I was too grateful to still be alive to really think about the fact of being half-naked in a tub with a boy.
Besides, it was Graves. And his arm was still around me. I put my head down on his shoulder and forgot about everything other than the stinging heat pushing its pins and needles into my flesh.
I hadn’t been this close to him since we’d both squeezed onto a helicopter lifting out of a Midwest snowstorm. I’d been crying then, too.
Now I wondered about all sorts of things. Especially about him having to fight the first night he got here. Getting Dibs alone and having him explain a few things seemed like a good idea. I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it before. My head was so heavy, and Graves’ shoulder was bony but comfortable.
“Talk to me,” he pressed. “Don’t pass out on me, Dru. Hey, I got a question.”
“Huh.” An affirmative noise was about all I could come up with. So do I. Why didn’t Ash kill me? And how in God’s name do I start telling you about all this when it doesn’t make any sense even to me?
“What’s Dru short for?”
Jesus. It was my turn to half-snort a laugh. “D-don’t ask.”
“Too late. I been wondering all this time.”
The shivers started easing up. My jaw was sore when it finally unclenched. “Tell you l-later.”
“Mh. So you wanna tell me what happened?” Gently, carefully, like he was lifting up a Band-Aid and checking underneath it.
“I—” The water bubbled. The door banged a little, like someone was leaning on it. The sound echoed through the locker room. I blinked, waking up inside my own head. “Oh jeez. You’re in here.”
“Uh, yeah.” He didn’t sound surprised. “Was thinking you might fall and hurt yourself or something. Drown. If you’re okay, or—”
I kept my head on his shoulder. Pressed it down a little and made my arm tense up. “Don’t. Don’t leave.” My teeth ached. Even my hair ached. “There was… I saw… okay, it was my grandmother’s owl.” A brief flare of panic worked up inside me, I’d never really wanted to tell anyone about it, and the habit of the secret was hard to break.
But this was Graves. And he didn’t disappoint me. He just accepted it. “Owl.” Nodded, his sharp chin dipping. “Okay.”
“And it led me outside, and I ran. I think it was trying to get me away from the suckers. I ended up in some bushes and I saw…” The rest of it spilled out in an incoherent jumble, but he nodded every once in a while. I liked that about him. He was so smart you didn’t have to hold his hand and walk him through everything. He could fill in the blanks on his own.
“You’re sure it was the same one?” His eyes had half-lidded. The not-water began to calm down, bubbling and fizzing. It stung my scratched hands and spread up my shoulder in little waxy dollops, heat sinking in.
I suddenly wanted to wash my hair. My scalp crawled. My heart had finished its pounding and finally settled down. “I guess. How many werwulfen with white streaks on their heads have we seen?”