Bad Melody (Seven Deadly Sins #3)

Chapter Seven: A Biker Rides In

I drove us back to Blackwater, my foot barely easing off the gas pedal until we were far out of Columbia's city limits. Technically I was breaking the law operating a motor vehicle without a license, but considering the summer I was having this infraction seemed way down on my list of illegal activities. My eyes kept cutting over to Dante and even though his eyes were closed, his breathing seemed even. He had more the air of someone trying to meditate instead of someone bleeding to death.

"It'll take a helluva lot more than a poke with a toothpick to kill me," he said picking up my thoughts in routine fashion.

"Maybe you should stop doing your impression of an alley victim then," I snapped, masking my worry with sarcasm.

"Your bedside manner is inspiring."

I bit my lip to keep back my retort. As much as I hated to admit it, Dante was right. I needed to find my calm.

Taking a slow breath in, I held it for a few seconds then slowly let it out trying to get myself back to normal.

It didn't work.

My heart was thudding so hard in my chest I could hear it in my own ears. My hands were doing a very unattractive shaky thing, not to mention my brain was still going a hundred miles an hour. I felt like one those lab mice that were given too much sugar just to see what would happen to them.

Poor guys.

No wonder PETA people were always breaking into those places and saving them from a life of experimental torture. I shuddered as flashes of The Secret of NIMH movie popped into my head. I'd almost forgotten but years ago my mom made me watch the old kid movie when I was too young to realize my mom was a nutcase. Angela had loved the movie enough to plop down next to me on our couch as I flipped through the channels and accidentally landed on it. I had nightmares for months afterwards – mostly about spooky owls and gross rats with red eyes hunting me down.

"Listening to your thoughts is like watching an easily distracted chipmunk make its way through a maze," Dante said cracking open one eye and looking over at me.

"Joke all you like but I'm not the one with a big ol' hole in their side," I said, giving him a sidelong glance. At least some of his color had returned.

"It's shrinking."

"What? The hole?"

He nodded.

I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter to calm my hands. "What did she stab you with anyway? Some kind of magical dagger forged in Hades and dipped in the blood of a dragon?" I asked only half kidding.

Dante opened his other eye and gave me a weird look.

"What?" I asked, shrugging. "You make it seem as if that would be out of the ordinary."

He shuffled a little in his seat, wincing at the movement. "Nothing that exotic. Iron. Old but nothing else unusual about it."

"Then why didn't you see it coming?"

Dante looked out the windshield before closing his eyes again. He didn't answer for a long time and when he did I almost jumped at the anger in it.

"I let my guard down and she went for my weak spot."

"You have a weak spot?" I asked surprised.

"An old injury she reopened. Nothing more," he said and resumed his even breathing. "I just need my first aid kit," he said a little more calm.