Work Text:
Gerry is having a good day.
He didn’t get fired, to start with. It was only a disciplinary meeting, letting him know that he will be fired the next time he misses a shift or or shows up with a dozen visible hickeys or makes a customer feel uncomfortable by acting like an unstable freak.
So he doesn’t have much time left at the café, but he’ll at least be able to make this month’s rent, which means he won’t have to pay them back for saving him from eviction.
And he has curry on deck for dinner. It’s a new recipe, something he hasn’t tried before. Exciting.
He is nearly home, only a block away, when he sees Julia.
He stops.
She’s leaning against a car parked in the street in front of his flat. The car is black and looks new. Gerry doesn’t know where it came from. (He doesn’t think he wants to know.) Julia is wearing his leather jacket, but that’s not a surprise. It’s one of her favorite ways to mock him.
He starts to dissolve, the conscious, human part of his mind taking a backseat to quivering animal fear. He considers turning around, but Julia spots him. She waves, and Gerry forces himself forward until he comes up beside her.
“Been a while,” Julia says. It has been seventeen days. She’s smiling. “How’s your day been?”
Gerry doesn’t answer. The part of his mind that isn’t overtaken by fear is still thinking about the curry. Hoping that this will finish quickly, leave him enough sliver of evening that he might somehow still have time for it.
What a pathetic thought.
“Speak!” Julia orders.
“Where’s your mate?” Gerry says immediately and tonelessly. He feels his fear kick up a notch, and he hopes Julia doesn’t understand what he meant.
No luck. She laughs. “Just me today. Does that disappoint you? I know how well you and Trevor get on.”
Gerry doesn’t answer.
Julia lets out a sigh. “Gerard,” she says sweetly. “Answer me when I speak to you.”
Gerry is sure his face spasms as he bites his cheek to keep his first thought from leaving his mouth. He knows this dance; he’s done it before. “Okay.”
Julia rolls her eyes and pushes herself away from the car. “Here,” she says, tossing the keys over her shoulder. Gerry catches them. “You’re driving.”
“You’re not worried I’ll purposefully swerve into a tree?” Gerry replies. Fuck. What is wrong with him? It’s been ten years since he’s had to do this with his mother, but that’s no excuse. He should be better.
“Don’t do that,” Julia says as she opens the passenger-side door. She sneers at him, seeing that he hasn’t moved. “Get. In.”
He drops into the driver’s seat and closes the door behind him. He knows Julia can hear his heartbeat, can sense his terror. It’s worse than usual; this has never happened before, going with them to another location. They’ve accosted him away from his flat, of course, but putting him in a car? Making him drive?
“Go all the way down this street, then turn right.”
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere fun.”
“Right,” Gerry says, imagining a shallow grave somewhere remote. Somewhere they can dump his body and it will never be found. Which is stupid. They aren’t humans. They can leave his body in his flat, and it will never be connected to them.
Besides, Julia isn’t taking him somewhere remote. Her directions keep him solidly within the hive of vampires that makes up London.
“Get out,” she says as soon as they reach her destination.
“This is a cinema,” Gerry replies.
“Correct,” Julia says patronizingly and begins walking around the car towards him.
“Stay away,” Gerry says. He can’t stop himself.
Julia likes it. He can see her change her mind, refocusing from her plan to this one moment of torment. She presses in, closer and closer. Gerry tries to back away, but there is nowhere to go, the car blocking him in.
Julia loops her arms around his shoulders, and she’s cold. She buries her nose in his neck, inhaling deeply. He braces himself for teeth, for deep, unbearable pain.
She pulls away, then grabs one of his hands and interlaces their fingers, a leash to lead him towards the building. Without orders to follow her, Gerry could set his feet and refuse to move. Maybe that would be the smart thing to do. Maybe whatever this is will go better for him if he pisses her off as much as possible.
Gerry follows.
“Have you ever been to the movies?” Julia asks.
“I don’t know.” What the fuck is happening?
“Your dad never took you?”
“I don’t remember.” He doesn’t like that Julia knows about his father. He doesn’t like hearing her mention him.
“Dad and I used to go all the time,” Julia says.
“Was that before or after he killed your mother?” Gerry says because he’s awful at this game. It was easier with Mum. He was afraid of her, but it was a stable sort of fear. He knew what to expect. He knew where her limits were.
Julia looks at him, and her expression is cold. Her smile seeps back slowly. “Both.”
“Oh.” Gerry doesn’t know if it will count as a response, but he isn’t compelled to say anything else.
Julia pays for their tickets, and for snacks. Gerry really, really doesn’t want to involve bystanders in his nightmare, so he tries his best not to look like a hostage.
They’re early. When they enter the auditorium, every seat is empty.
“I love empty theatres,” Julia says, walking up the steps to the very back. Gerry appreciates having his back to the wall, at least.
Gerry says, “Why are we here?”
“I told you; Trevor is busy. I’m bored.”
“But why am I here?”
“Why shouldn’t you be here?”
Gerry catches his first thought in time. “I don’t know.”
But Julia sees it. “Tell me what you were going to say.”
“Surely you have other options than just Vampire Romeo and the person you’re slowly torturing to death.”
Julia crunches a bite of popcorn. “That’s the second time you’ve implied that Trevor and I have something romantic. Are you jealous?”
“No. I think you make a great couple.”
Julia throws back her head and laughs. She’s silent for a moment, but she looks very pleased.
Gerry wishes he could get himself to shut the fuck up.
More audience members trickle in as Julia launches into a story about touring historic theatres with her father in America. Gerry tries to pay attention, but he can’t turn his mind from the utter madness of what is happening.
Maybe she really is bored. Maybe without Trevor, she doesn’t think Gerry is compelling enough entertainment for her evening show. Maybe Gerry is just here as dinner, and Julia will lean over and sip from him once the lights go down.
The thought makes his stomach hurt, but it would be far from the worst thing he’s experienced at Julia’s hands. It’s rather mild, all things considered.
The room goes dark, and Gerry feels himself tense, waiting for what’s next.
“Put your arm around me,” Julia whispers.
“Why?” Gerry says because he isn’t in fucking control of himself. It’s obvious as he does it and Julia leans in and rests her head on his shoulder. The auditorium isn’t exactly crowded, but it’s far from empty. This allows her to get at his neck without drawing too much attention.
“Shh! Don’t talk during the movie.”
It must be an order because Gerry isn’t compelled to say anything in response. It’s almost a relief, being allowed back into the safety of silence.
Almost. He does still have a vampire two inches from his neck.
He stays on high alert, waiting for the bite. He’s resolved not to cry out. That’s part of the appeal, he’s sure, seeing him draw glares for being too noisy. Forcing him to keep himself as quiet as possible.
Fifteen minutes pass. Thirty. The bite doesn’t come.
Gerry glances at Julia. She’s settled onto his shoulder, locked in on the screen. She looks up at him and meets his eyes. She smiles.
***
The movie ends, and Gerry still hasn’t been bitten.
Outside, it’s gone dark, the sky a foggy, depressing city grey. Julia holds on to his arm and leans on his shoulder as they walk back to the car.
Gerry drops back into the driver’s seat, already sick and sore and exhausted. He hopes that the next stop will be his flat, but he isn’t naive enough to expect it. Whatever this night is supposed to be, it clearly isn’t close to over.
Julia directs him to a bar. When they go through the door, Julia passes by the guy checking IDs with nothing more than a smile. He barely glances at Gerry.
It sends a chill up Gerry’s spine. “Is he your bloodbag too?”
“I have his bond, but that’s it.” Julia says. She wrinkles her nose. “The guy they used to have was much better.”
“That sounds hard,” he says, forgetting momentarily about his earlier orders. Fuck.
Julia doesn’t respond. She leads them to a small table in the middle of the room. “Sit!”
He doesn’t need the order. The thought of being inside one of their strongholds makes him feel shaky. He should have realized as soon as they pulled up outside. He looks around, but there’s nothing remarkable about the place. It’s a little ratty, but he expects no less from them.
Julia goes over to the bar. She has no trouble getting the bartender’s attention, of course.
Gerry stares at the table. Is she here to scope out the place? Find some fresh meat? Why bring Gerry, then? He’ll mask the scent of anyone else here. It doesn’t make any sense.
Julia comes back to the table with six shot glasses. She sits across from him and downs two of them.
Gerry does not understand what is happening.
“Here,” Julia says, placing one of the shots in front of him.
“I’m driving.”
Julia waves her hand dismissively. “Who cares? Drink it.”
He does. Gerry hates the taste of strong alcohol, but that’s the least of his worries. He glares at Julia, who raises her third shot in his direction before swallowing it.
So they’re genuinely here for the drinks. That doesn’t make Gerry feel any better. Sober, he can at least trust that Julia won’t actually kill him without Trevor present. But with five shots sloshing around in what passes for her bloodstream?
Julia says, “You could always work here, you know.”
“I have a job.”
Julia smiles, like she knows all about the meeting Gerry had today. She probably does. They’ve accosted him at work enough times to make it clear that they follow him around whenever the mood strikes them.
Gerry hates that. He hates that he can never be certain of being alone.
Julia places her fifth shot in front of him.
“No,” Gerry says. One shot is already more than he wants to deal with. Two would be—
“Pick it up,” Julia says. Gerry picks it up. She picks up her own glass and holds it out toward him. “Clink,” she says. She looks at him expectantly.
He stares at her blankly, then downs the goddamn shot.
Julia frowns, and Gerry immediately regrets it. Exactly why he doesn’t want to drink with a vampire around. He immediately does the stupidest thing possible.
Julia’s eyes go to the bar, and he knows what she’s thinking.
He says, “I’m driving, Julia. I can’t have another one. I will crash the fucking car.”
“You won’t,” Julia says, but she downs her last shot and stands up. “Let’s go.”
Gerry stands. He feels light-headed and deeply, unfathomably scared of where Julia wants to go next. The fear does not improve when they get back in the car and Julia begins directing him out of the city.
“Where are we going?” he asks, as if that question has helped him at all tonight.
“Somewhere,” Julia sing-songs.
“Why?”
Julia laughs in response. It isn’t a cruel laugh; she genuinely sounds delighted. And why not? She planned this evening; she must be having a great time!
“Glad you’re having fun,” Gerry snipes.
“I’m glad you’re tasty,” Julia says, a non-sequiter that fills Gerry’s mouth with the taste of salt.
He swallows it back. “I’ve heard it’s my best quality.”
“It is!” Julia says. “Trevor would have killed you by now if you weren’t so good.”
“Wonderful.”
“He hates you,” Julia says. “I hate you too. You suck.”
“You’re an actual vampire,” Gerry retorts, loudly, because it isn’t just Julia feeling the effects of the drinks.
Julia laughs. She starts to say something, then she laughs some more.
Maybe this is a dream. Maybe his mind is broken enough that even his bizarre sleep worlds have picked up the gritty physicality of reality. Maybe everything has been a dream, and any moment he’ll wake up back in his bedroom at Mum’s house.
(He wouldn’t mind, so much.)
(Testament to his fracturing mind: He misses her.)
A few minutes pass in silence, save for Julia continuing to give directions. They are definitely headed somewhere populated more by trees than people.
Finally, Julia says, “Pull over, up ahead.”
Gerry stops the car where she points. They’re on a hilltop, looking out over a ravine. It might be a nice lookout point at sunset, or dawn, but right now it is mostly shadow.
Julia gets out of the car and opens the trunk. Gerry tenses, expecting her to pull out—he doesn’t know—a gun? But it’s only a blanket, which she wraps around her shoulders like she might be bothered by the chill night air. Then she goes to sit on the hood of the car.
She doesn’t look at Gerry as she does it, doesn’t talk to him, doesn’t order him to come sit beside her or roll around in the grass or throw himself down the ravine.
Gerry continues sitting in the car, not allowing his eyes to leave her. He doesn’t know what she’s doing, and he doesn’t particularly care. He wants her to bite him and get it over with.
He is so tired.
He doesn’t know how long they sit there. Time seems to stretch in the silence. He can only hear his heartbeat, which feels like it must be close to attack by now. How long has it been pounding like this?
He leans his head on the window. The cool glass feels good against his flushed, panicked skin. He closes his eyes, intending just to rest for a moment.
He wakes with a gasp as Julia opens the passenger door again.
“Jumpy,” she says, dropping back into the seat. Her eyes are glowing in the darkness. She still has the blanket around her shoulders.
“I was asleep.”
“You’re tired?” Julia sounds genuinely incredulous, like Gerry couldn’t possibly be tired after spending four hours being dragged all over the city.
Gerry says, “Yeah.”
“Well, we’re almost done,” Julia says. She lets out a long breath. Then another, more annoyed breath. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” Gerry doesn’t know what his face does in response to the order, but it clearly isn’t a result that Julia likes.
“Like you’re expecting me to eat you! Just—God, just look happy.”
“Okay.” Gerry feels his face relax, his mouth turning up in a little smile.
“That’s better. Was that so fucking hard?”
“No?” Gerry says. He doesn’t like how his voice sounds while he’s smiling.
“Shut up!” Julia says. “Stop with the answers. I’m talking now.”
Gerry comes very close to saying, You’re the one who gave the order! He reels it back just in time. He can’t lose control, even with his head feeling light and dizzy.
He waits, but Julia doesn’t say anything. For a very long time, they just sit there in silence. The car’s digital clock turns over another minute.
Then, finally, Julia speaks.
“When I was a kid.” Julia isn’t looking at him. She’s looking out the front windshield, gaze distant. “When I was a kid, Gerard Keay was my imaginary friend. I didn’t have any real friends, obviously. But I knew that there was this boy out there. I knew he was exactly like me.”
Gerry is glad he can’t speak because he has no idea what kind of response Julia would want. It defies reason that she’s even telling him this.
Maybe it’s a trick? Some kind of trap?
Julia takes a deep, deliberate breath. “Dad turned me when I was nineteen. And I thought—Well, it was only a matter of time before Mary turned you. And then—I don’t know. I thought I’d like to meet you. But… Well, you know how that worked out.”
Julia looks at Gerry for the first time since beginning this… confession? For a moment her face looks soft, bizarrely fragile. Then she scowls. “Stop making that face. You look like an idiot.”
Gerry feels conscious control return. He tries to look neutral, but it’s a little difficult when Julia might decide to murder him at any moment.
Julia crosses her arms and turns fully away from him, facing the window. “I could turn you,” she says.
Gerry feels his breath catch. Is that what they’re doing? Ripping away his very last hope, the one thing that he can turn to as a positive in his life. Everything sucks, but at least he’s still human. At least he’s still himself.
“Trevor would be beyond furious,” Julia continues. “You’re the best we’ve got, right now, and getting you was pure luck. I would do it, though.”
He would laugh if he weren’t so scared. His life is so goddamn stupid. Every path leads back to vampire eventually. No escaping it.
“I’m not delusional. I know we don’t know each other at all. I know you hate me. But… that can change.”
Gerry doesn’t want to become a vampire.
She looks at him, then, and something in her face seems to soften. “It’s better. I can promise you that. Suddenly, the only monster you have to be afraid of is yourself.”
She pauses, expectant. After a beat, she remembers and says, “Tell me. Do you want me to?”
“No,” Gerry replies. His voice is a whisper. Nothing he says or does or tries to fight for actually matters.
“Why not?”
“I’m a slayer.”
He’s prepared for her to laugh, but it still hits like a slap. For the first time, he turns away from her. It doesn’t matter if she attacks him. He doesn’t care.
Julia laughs and laughs and laughs. “Oh, Gerard,” she says. “Look at me.”
Gerry doesn’t want to examine her expression. There’s no point, is there? He is trapped. There is no escape, there is no control. Whatever happens next will happen regardless.
“If you were a slayer, you wouldn’t be here.”
His eyes burn. He wishes–
He–
Fuck.
Julia relaxes in her seat, curling into her blanket. She seems… pleased? “Take us home.”
***
Gerry tries to sneak glances at Julia as he drives back to his flat. She keeps catching his eye and smiling. Ordinarily, it would cause utter terror to pulse through him; Julia’s good moods were nearly as dangerous as her bad.
But he can’t stop thinking about what she said.
The only monster you have to be afraid of is yourself.
They go back to his flat, and Julia leans against the doorframe as he unlocks the deadbolt. “You know, you might make your shift tomorrow. If you’re lucky.”
Gerry has pointedly not been thinking about his shift tomorrow. “One problem at a time.”
“Is that what I am? A problem?”
Gerry doesn’t answer that one. He swings the door open, and gestures Julia inside. She walks backward, still facing him. “I want to know what you thought, just then. Tell me.”
“You’re worse than a problem. You’re a catastrophe.”
Julia grins, but it’s different. The sharpness that makes Julia so dangerous, that makes every word and facial expression like razor wire, is simply… gone.
He’s still scared. There’s no question about that. Any moment now, Julia will pin him against a wall and tear into his flesh.
But he’s also…
He’s also…
“Bedroom,” Julia says, leading the way. She knows well enough, by now, that Gerry will stand frozen in place until he is forced to move.
She stops in the doorway, her mouth open in a shocked O. It shifts to a smile, and then she launches herself on top of Gerry’s mattress, now settled atop a brand-new box spring. He even has some proper bedding to go with it.
Julia props herself up on her elbows and grins at him. “Look at you, finally getting a grown-up bed!”
She looks so… normal. “There was a sale.”
“I hope so! How would you ever afford this kind of luxury, otherwise?” Julia smiles, but the jab doesn’t have any teeth.
Gerry presses his back against the wall, waiting. It doesn’t usually take so long for Julia to get to the point. He honestly wasn’t the box spring to gerner such a huge reaction.
Julia is staring at him. She doesn’t get up and come to him. She doesn’t tell him to get on the bed. She just stares.
Gerry slides down the wall, sitting on the floor.
“You’re not as scared as you were at the hill,” Julia says.
“No,” Gerry says. He’s too tired to hold that level of terror for long. Besides, they’re back at his apartment now. The drinks are wearing off. Julia isn’t going to murder him, and she’s not going to turn him, and she’s being…
… different.
He has never seen her like this. Normal. Human.
“Come here,” Julia says, so Gerry gets up and crosses the room to the bed. He lays down beside her. He’s ready for the bite.
He’s less ready for her to say, “Kiss me.”
He rolls onto his side, close enough to feel the unnerving absence of body heat from her. One of his hands reaches for her neck. The other cups her skull behind her ear, tangling in her hair. He tilts her head to the side and gently presses their lips together for a long moment.
He’s sure his heart is pounding now. He didn’t expect this. He should have. She wasn’t being subtle, was she? But he’s never been flirted at before, and—and—and—It’s Julia. It’s Julia, who loves nothing more than to see how many increasingly painful noises she can pull out of him.
He expects with a cold edge of ice to feel her hands on his shoulders or laced around his neck, pulling them closer. He expects her to deepen the kiss, or to bite him just for the fun of it. He expects that she will pull back and order him to bite her.
She doesn’t do any of that. One of her hands comes to rest over his, but other than that, she remains utterly still.
It ends, finally. Gerry is frozen, lacking the wherewithal to get away while he has the chance. Julia leans her forehead against his for a long moment. Then she rolls onto her back with a satisfied sigh.
And that’s it. She sits up, crossing her legs. She looks at him, almost shy. She says, “You were always the hero. I wasn’t stupid enough to ever dream of running away from Dad. But I imagined you somehow breaking your bond and coming to find me.”
She was a little girl, once. Her father was a monster, and she always knew that one day she would become a monster. And now—
The only monster you have to be afraid of is yourself.
“Julia?” Gerry says softly. “Do you need help?”
Julia looks back at him. “With what?”
Gerry chooses his words carefully. “Do you want it to stop?”
Julia stares at him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He sees the moment she understands. Her expression shifts, anything soft or tragic or human disappearing as if it never existed at all.
She stares at him with flat, hungry fury.
Gerry tries to run, but before he can even move, Julia says, “Stop!”
Despite the order, he is trembling.
“Gerard,” Julia says. She’s smiling again. “Did you just offer to kill me?”
What has he done?
What has he done?
What has he done?
“Speak!”
Gerry says, “This isn’t Julia Montauk. This isn’t how she would want to live.”
Julia slaps him hard enough that he tastes blood. “What the fuck do you think you know about me?”
“You’re a parasitic monster. You hurt innocent people.”
“People like you?”
There is nothing Gerry can say to fix this. Nothing. He tries anyway. “Julia, I didn’t mean—“
“I know what you meant,” Julia says. She turns her back to him, sliding off his bed. “Come with me, Gerard.”
He has to follow. They go out to the living room, to his big wall that is still empty of any decoration. Julia reaches up and starts banging on it with the side of her fist. Fast and hard and loud. Bangbangbangbang. Then the tone of the bang shifts, becomes solid.
“There it is,” Julia says. She reaches toward him. “Give me your hand.”
He holds it out and Julia pulls it up above his head, pressing the back of his hand against the wall where she just found the stud. She takes his other hand and stacks it on top.
“Don’t move,” Julia says. Then, “Tell me where the rest of your tools are hidden.”
“The fire escape. There’s a fake electrical box.”
Julia smiles and disappears down the hall.
Gerry’s mind stalls. (He can’t— She can’t—) Suddenly, she’s back. She’s wearing leather gloves now. She holds them up for him to see. “Look! I’m a slayer.”
She’s also holding a wooden stake and mallet.
It isn’t a mystery what those are for.
“Tell me what you most want to say to me right now,” Julia says.
“Please don’t. Please. I’m sorry.” It’s just those three sentences on mindless, desperate repeat until Julia calls a stop.
Julia hums and taps Gerry’s head softly with the mallet. For a moment, he thinks the begging worked, that this was only a ploy to scare him into debasing himself for her.
Julia says, “Don’t pass out.”
Then Julia drives the stake through his hands, into the wall stud. He makes a noise he didn’t know he was capable as he feels skin and muscle and blood vessels and bone crush and tear beneath the force. And then he doesn’t need to be compelled to beg; it happens without conscious input as he sees her move to swing the mallet again. “Julia, no, no, no, please—“
He cries out again. He wants to tear himself away from the pain, to kick out, to defend himself, but he can’t move. He can’t breathe, even, can only manage short, shallow little gasps.
Julia keeps hammering. He feels every blow like a shockwave through his whole body. He feels something drip onto his face, and knows it’s blood. He trembles, his only thoughts spelled out in bright red letters: PAIN.
Then the onslaught stops. Gerry is afraid to look, but he does anyway. His hands are coated and dripping blood, his fingers twitching impotently. Three inches of the stake are visible, which means three inches are securely jammed into the wall.
Gerry sways, nauseous, and he’s certain that he wouldn’t be conscious if Julia hadn’t taken that option from him. Something is very loud, and it takes a long moment to realize that it’s him, breathing and squeaking and sobbing.
Julia steps back, watching him. “You want to kill me?” Julia says. “Then let’s see it. I release all previous orders. You can use that stake I’ve so generously given you. Go ahead.”
Gerry immediately feels his vision go black as his body tries to save him from being conscious for this. But no, no, he can’t—he can’t. He can’t. He has a chance now, this show of hubris.
Julia will regret it.
Gerry strains against the stake attaching him to the wall, but it doesn’t budge. Not a single centimeter. He grits his teeth and pushes as hard as he can. It hurts more than anything he has ever felt, but he keeps going until his vision starts to fade, his hearing disappearing in a high tone.
He takes a break and relaxes, trying to take deep breaths against a wave of nausea.
“Gerard? What’s wrong? This is your opportunity! Just kill me, and you’ll have your bond back, and then you can go kill Trevor. You can kill every vampire you see!”
He has to do it. He has to.
Gerry tries, but—
He can’t.
He’s stuck.
His breath comes in thick, gasping sobs. He doesn’t know if the moisture on his face is tears or sweat or blood.
Julia steps close and cups his cheek in her hand. With her thumb, she traces a line of blood. She licks the blood off, then smooths Gerry’s hair back from his face. “Julia, please,” Gerry says, as if that will do anything.
It doesn’t. She tightens her grip in his hair and uses it to pull his head back. She bites him high on his neck, just beneath his chin. He can’t help twitching against the pain, but the tiniest movement sends jolts of fire radiating up and down his arms. He feels his body rebelling against the sudden loss of blood pressure, feels his head going light.
Maybe he does pass out; when he’s next aware, Julia is no longer drinking from him. She is standing very close, nuzzled close to his neck. When he meets her eyes, she says, “I could turn you right now. It would be easy.”
“Don’t,” he gasps out.
Julia smiles, and for a moment Gerry expects her to slash her own arm open and shove it in his mouth. But she just steps back. She lets out a breath and wipes his blood from her lips.
She says, “You look a little stuck there, Gerard. Do you need help?”
He nods desperately, and regrets it as he has to blink back another wave of dizziness. “Yes. Please, please, please—“
Julia takes a step toward him. Then she stops. “Oh, but surely you don’t need my help. You’re the slayer. I’m just a poor monster that needs to be put out of her misery.”
“Julia, no,” Gerry says. She can’t be planning to leave him here. She can’t. “No.”
“Get yourself down,” Julia orders with a cheerful smile. And then she leaves.
***
The stakes are solid, as is the stud.
The only weak point is Gerry’s flesh.
It takes four hours.
***
He does lose the café job, in the end.