Page 48 of Midnight Kiss
“She feels better when she’s around me,” I said. “I would like to test if she feels better when she’s around you. Or whether you feel ill in her apartment.” He wouldn’t, but it was a good enough excuse. “If she’s at risk of poisoning of some kind, we should act fast. We should call the … landlord.”
“The super.”
“Yeah.”
“Fine.” He exited into the hall and slammed his door shut.
We found Emily sitting on the sofa, clutching her stomach, sweat gathered on her brow again. She glared at the book, which was on the coffee table in front of her. “I had to fetch it,” she said, meeting my gaze. “I just felt compelled to go and fetch it, and I don’t know why, Alex.”
“Shit, Em, what the hell?” Michael rushed over to her and sat down. “You were fine five minutes ago.”
“Some placebo effect, huh?” She gave a weedy laugh then coughed. “Ouch. My stomach hurts.”
“I’ll be in the hall.” It killed me to walk out of the room and leave them alone in there together. I stood outside, waiting for five full minutes before I entered.
Emily lay down. Michael crouched next to her. “This is getting worse,” he said. “We should take her to the hospital.”
“Out.”
“What did you say to me?” Michael came over, swinging his arms like a glorified Neanderthal.
“I said that you should get out now. You’re not helping.”
“I'll call an ambulance.”
“Stop it,” Emily murmured. “Just listen to Alex. Leave, please.”
“Seriously? You’re going to—” Michael’s jaw clenched and he left, again, slamming the door behind him. And I’d thought I had a temper issue.
I moved over to the sofa and sat on the edge of it, taking Emily’s hand into mind. She sighed.
“It’s the strangest thing,” she whispered. “When you touch me, I feel so much better. I feel like I’m alive again.”
“Michael didn’t make you feel any better?”
“No,” she said.
“Perhaps,” I started, then cut off.
I can’t do this. I can’t tell her to give me the book when it might kill her faster. Or make her condition worse.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Alex, tell me,” she said.
“It’s nothing, Emily.” I bent and kissed her forehead, and she gave another of those happy, comforted sighs. My pulse lifted. I wanted nothing more than to make her feel better.
“Tell me something,” she said. “Something about you. Something that you like.”
You. “Solitude.”
“Hmm. I like that too. It’s why I like books. It’s difficult for real life to intrude when it’s a book. You can just get lost in your own fantasy world.”
I nodded.
But fantasy worlds weren’t as lovely or as kind as they were in books. In real life, books could kill you as easily as they could entertain you.