By the time everyone had given their statements to the police, things had gotten pretty late. Superfreak had gone home; Emma had arrived at the crime scene, only to leave shortly thereafter because she was super-pissed she missed The Golden Man in action; everyone had assumed Cat had run away before the trouble even started, though in truth she’d been kidnapped by George.
That left Anne and Shade, who’d gone back to FAU. Originally they were going to see if there were any parties going on on-campus, mostly in the hopes of procuring free alcohol. Because boy could they use a drink after the fucking emotional roller coaster they’d been on.
No dice. There was a party on-campus, but it was “Illegal Immigrant”-themed, and about as racist as you’d expect that sort of thing to be.
Shade stole a bottle of tequila when a group of sombrero-wearing white boys wasn’t looking. She didn’t feel bad, because seriously they were assholes.
So it was that Anne and Shade sat in Anne’s dorm, on Anne’s couch.
“This feels wrong,” Anne said, taking a sip of tequila-spiked coffee.
“Don’t worry about it,” Shade said. “People put tequila in their coffee all the time.”
“Well then everyone else is wrong,” Anne said, taking another sip.
“I don’t see you putting it down.”
“I mean murder’s wrong, but I did that too.”
“You crazy bitch,” Shade said.
For a long, lingering moment, Anne and Shade just looked at each other. Then, inexplicably, they both began to laugh.
“I shouldn’t joke,” Shade said. “I’ve been there. I’ve… done things I’m not proud of. It happens, in our line of work.”
“God, we’re so fucked-up,” Anne said, wiping a tear of laughter.
“You know we’re not the good guys, right?” Shade asked.
“I know,” Anne said. “But we do our best. That’s enough.”
“Today was rough,” Shade said. “Real rough.”
“Tomorrow’ll be better,” Anne said, “Tomorrow’ll be awesome. I just know it.”
How wrong she was, dear reader.
How wrong she was.