Chapter Text
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Charlie kicked at the dusty sidewalk, sending an old can flying with a hollow clunk and clatter that sent echoes bouncing across the wide street and along the red brick facades and tattered tumbleweed glory of the old wild west tourist town.
Monroe slid her a hard, blue edged glance, ‘Cut it out, Charlotte. Don’t know who’s around. We gotta be smart, scope it out.’ He went back to scanning the road, knuckles flaring white, grip tightening around the hilt of his sword as he strode along, somehow silent despite his height and lithe, hard muscled frame.
She shrugged, and kicked another one just to bug him, although she didn’t put as much muscle into it. ‘Why bother?’ She waved a hand at the street in general. ‘Just look at this place, no one’s been around here since the blackout.’ Her gaze flicked from one side of the street to the other then turned to glare up at him, her long, dirty blond hair swaying. ‘Maybe even before that. It’s just a creepy ghost town.’
He shook his head, ‘I thought Miles would’ve taught you better than that.’
‘Miles was too busy worrying about my mom to teach me anything, besides, I didn’t need him, I learned enough on my own.’ Charlie huffed, shucked out of her jacket as she walked and swung it around her hips, tying the sleeves together into a quick knot with slim, strong fingers. ‘I’m hungry, it’s getting hot and I think we’re wasting our time in this stupid town. Anything useable is gonna be junk or long gone.’ She glanced up at him, eyes slitted against the light, part of her mind noting how the sun caught his scruff, picking out little curling hairs like shiny gold… Damn. She squashed the thought and focused back on the moment. ‘I saw some deer sign back in the woods, I could be hunting us some food.’
Monroe threw her a glance. ‘This is the first town we’ve come across in four days, it makes sense to stick together until we’ve had a look around. And it’s too damn quiet, I don’t like it, there should be birds and a stray cat or two maybe but there’s nothing.’ He kept walking, on alert. ‘And we went through this back in camp, remember? I need some leather to patch the harness and a couple of wheels and some oil for the wagon or we’re gonna be walking the rest of the way to Willoughby.’ He slanted her another hard look and stopped, putting a hand out to stop her too. ‘Or is that what you want?’
She stared up at him for a long moment, every nerve in her body aware of his hand heavy on her shoulder, his thumb moving in tiny circles and sliding over the smooth, warm skin and slender bones underneath almost as if it had a mind of its own. He was too big, too close but somehow not close enough, the scent of him enveloping her in spicy male sweat, old leather, hot metal and something else, something heady that made her breath catch and her head spin while the blown dark indigo blue of his eyes burned a hot trail from her lips to her toes and back again. Sucking in a breath and mentally kicking her own ass for being stupid to the max, because damn, feeling like this about Monroe was that stupid, she put on a smirk and slid away, her eyes glinting as his fingers clung to her skin. ‘What’s the matter, General, afraid of a little exercise?’
He choked out a ragged laugh and let his hand fall. The tension that had been growing between them since she fell into that pool and back into his life like a gift from whatever gods were currently laughing at him sizzled like a fire in his gut. For all sorts of reasons, she had burrowed under his skin and into his increasingly wet dreams and there was no way he could resist pushing it further. He leaned in close, his voice a mocking, honeyed whisper. ‘Not if it’s the right kind of exercise, Charlotte’.
Her smirk faltered and she got lost in his gaze for a long, long moment, the air between them grown thick and sultry with more heat than the heavy summer sun beating down on her head, her whole body flushed and wanting more of this, more of him. Then in a flash of searing reality she remembered again just who it was she was getting hot and heavy with and broke away, turning on her heel and stalking off, back straight and hips swaying with every step. When he didn’t follow she slanted a narrow eyed glance back over her shoulder. ‘Town centre’s this way, are you coming or not?’
Distracted and bemused, he watched her, trying to think of a good answer, his eyes lingering on the taut denim covered curves of her ass, the corners of his mouth twitching in a mixture of amusement, irritation and something that was totally carnal. Then he choked off another laugh and started after her.
Behind the clouded, dirty glass of the bow window of the shop they’d just passed, the tattered lace curtains fluttered.
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‘Hey, I think there’s a saddle shop up ahead, past that old theatre,’ Charlie pointed across the road, then her eyes widened and she darted back under the shadowed awning of the building behind them, her knife raised ready. ‘What the hell? There’s a guy in a white suit standing outside the old place.’ She frowned, confused, taking another look, ‘and what’s wrong with the woman with him? Why aren’t they moving?’
Monroe stayed where he was and shrugged. ‘Stand down, Charlotte, they’re not real.’ He pointed at the broken neon sign above the pillared entrance to the theatre. ‘See? It’s a Madame Tussaud’s show, they’ll have more statues of famous people inside, all of them made out of wax.’ His lips twisted in a wry grin, ‘People used to pay money to go take selfies with them.’ He pointed at the male figure, ‘that one’s Elvis Presley, he was a famous singer.’ He leaned forward, squinting a little, ‘the other one’s a movie star called Marilyn Monroe, although she’s missing a few parts.’ His eyes slid to Charlie, sly. ‘Maybe the crow babies thought her tits looked tasty.’
Charlie made a face. ‘Ew…’
He glanced up and down the road, took another look at the theatre and quirked an eyebrow. ‘You want to go have a look at some pre-blackout rich and famous faces before we check out the saddle shop?’ His grin turned into something genuine, ‘it used to be a fun thing to do.’
She looked him up and down. ‘Wow, those must be some good memories, you’re practically skipping. What happened to “it’s too damn quiet”?’
‘Nothing’s happened to us yet so I guess I was wrong.’ He shrugged and the grin softened into a smile. It made him look younger, almost boyish, the dirt etched lines on his face smoothing out. ‘And yeah, they’re good, my parents took me and my sisters to Madam Tussaud’s in Washington once and I remember my mom was so excited about getting a photo with Elvis that she couldn’t stop talking about it and while she was with him and my sisters were going all gooey eyed over some boy band, me and my dad were in the civil war section with Abraham Lincoln.’ His eyes drifted to the Elvis figure, ‘this is a blast from the past for me, babe.’
‘Babe?’ She made a face. ‘Really?’ Although she was actually trying to ignore the effect that amazing smile was having on her heartbeat, trying to ignore the fact that he had had sisters and parents, that he actually used to be human? Damn it, he was a lying, murdering son of a bitch who’d only saved her life back in that bar so she could take him to Miles, but that didn’t seem to matter, being with him was starting to feel like she was downing one shot of whiskey after another and firing up a burn in her belly that just wouldn’t quit, it was crazy. She sheathed her knife. ‘I don’t know… Maybe?’ She had to admit to being curious. ‘But I thought we were being all alert and ready for anything?’
A light brown eyebrow lifted and he stroked his sword hilt, smile turning to insinuation. ‘I’m always ready, Charlotte.’
Okay, she’d walked right into that one. She returned the eyebrow and raised him a smirk. ‘Really? Then how come you ended up in that pool?’
He held her gaze and backed out into the sunshine onto the dusty road, teasing her with those blue, blue eyes, ‘as I recall you ended up in there with me, and now we’re travelling together to find your family. Go figure.’ His smile widened, challenge lurking behind it like a sweet temptation, ‘but like you said, this is a ghost town, I think we’ve got time to be tourists.’
She shrugged, damn it and damn him. Everything about him was a challenge she couldn’t seem to turn down. ‘Ok, I guess I could stand seeing what you old time folks made such a fuss about.’
He strode off across the street. ‘Not so old, Charlotte. And It’ll be fun, I promise.’
She followed him, wiping sweat off her cheek with the back of her hand. Why did he have to be so fucking hot? Why couldn’t he be fat, or even look old and have no teeth. She lengthened her stride to keep up. ‘So what did tourists do?’
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On the road behind them something moved. Keeping to the sidewalk shadows, a darker shadow slid silent from wall to window, pillar to alley, from cover to cover.
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Up close, faded red, white and blue paint was peeling like sunburnt skin off the Queen Theatre’s high, stuccoed walls and moth eaten posters for forgotten plays and shows could be seen displayed in mouldy, fly spotted frames in plaster panels leading in to the wide double front wooden and glass doors. ‘Madame Tussaud’s Kings and Queens of Cinema’ was advertised on a tattered but still readable neon banner just above the doors.
Monroe stopped in front of Elvis and reached out to pat the cracked and dirty white vinyl and plastic diamante covered shoulder raising clouds of dust that puffed up into the air. He coughed, looked the statue up and down and shrugged. ‘Well, I gotta say he looked better back in Washington.’ Elvis’ black, real hair wig was patchy and faded on top to a dirty yellow grey, the smile was chipped and the white suit had definitely seen better days.
Charlie sneezed and stepped back, waving dust fragments away, disgust wrinkling her nose. ‘He looks like he’s been chewed on by a bear, why would anyone in their right mind pay to see him?’
‘Because back then he was the king of rock and roll.’ Monroe shook his head sadly as he brushed a cobweb off the famous face, ‘at least the bugs still like him.’
Charlie had moved on to Marilyn, although she was careful not to touch. ‘This one’s even worse.’
The model’s dress was hanging in faded rags around her waist, she was missing the tips of both perky breasts, the end of her nose, the tips of her ears and several fingers and what remained of her skin was so wind and sun burned that it was pitted like a moonscape. Her full skirt, the material stiff with wax and plaster and blown up by a phantom burst of wind didn’t really have much left to reveal with the backs of both legs worn almost down to the steel frames underneath. Her high heel shoes were still attached to the metal stand though and her eyes were still blue, her full pout red and her teeth still white if you squinted.
Monroe walked up next to her, a hand reaching out towards Marilyn’s scarecrow platinum wig. ‘It’s sad really. She was one of the most beautiful women in the world, a movie star and a sex symbol. People loved her.’
‘A sex symbol? What the hell’s that? And don’t touch it,’ Charlie stepped back, ‘it’s disgusting and I’m still coughing up bits of Elvis.’
Monroe looked pensive, his fingers stroking an outline in the air of Marilyn’s face. ‘People made kings and queens out of other people back then, even if that wasn’t what they wanted to be. Still do I guess.’
‘You’re doing that thing again. Stop it.’
‘What thing?’
‘That wet thing with your eyes.’ Charlie shook her head and brushed her hands off. ‘This is ridiculous, I don’t want to see any more shitty statues. Let’s go find the stuff we need and get out of here.’ She swung around to leave.
Just as she moved an arrow whizzed past her cheek and landed with a bullseye twang right between Marilyn’s laughing eyes.
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