by Emelia Blair
She doesn’t wait for a response from me, and I feel her settle next to me as she starts the movie.
Back when I had been so grief-stricken and angry over Reine’s loss, it had been Agatha who had been able to drag me out of my state of mind. I never understood how she had managed to do that, but she had become sort of a clingy little sister figure and having her around made it easier for me to breathe.
And right now, as I feel her warm weight leaning on me, I feel my mind empty and I embrace the darkness that crept up on me.
6
Sarah
Seth is in a bad mood.
I wasn’t in any frame of mind to meet up with him for dinner, but I already missed the last two of our weekly dinners, and I didn’t need to give him more cause to be suspicious.
If he finds out that Bryan is missing, he will decide to get involved, and things will become infinitely worse.
I try to tell myself that I just have to get through this one meal without betraying my upset and fears. However, he seems to be rather irritable.
Hoping that his problems will distract me from my huge one, I ask, “Is something bothering you, Seth?”
We are sitting in the new Italian restaurant that just opened up last month near his building. Since he is so busy managing the community center, catching up once a week is something he decided on.
He is like family to me, and I don’t have much family to begin with.
He frowns into his pasta and then raises his head to look at me. “The guy, from this morning, who was he?”
I don’t want to think about Fergus right now.
“He’s a friend,” I say, slowly.
Seth isn’t willing to give up. “You’ve never mentioned him before.”
I purse my lips. “I met him at a bar.”
When he stares at me in a dumbfounded manner, I feel a little self-conscious. “What?”
“What were you doing in a bar?”
That is a good question. Just how am I going to answer that?
“I can go to a bar if I want,” I respond.
Seth sneers at me. “You have the lowest tolerance level for alcohol I have ever seen. Forgive me if I find it a little strange for you to be visiting a bar.”
I kick his shin under the table, making him whimper. “Stop being a jerk, Seth. What is wrong with you today?”
He glares at me as he leans down to rub his shin. “Well, it’s not like you to pick up men at bars and then bring them home. I’m just concerned.”
I sniff. “Well, don’t be.”
Seth is relentless, however.
“What if he did something to you, Sarah? What if he cornered you once you two were alone together?”
I stare at him, starting to feel annoyed. “I was sick, Seth. He helped me out. Why are you making such a big deal about this?”
“Because I don’t like him,” he snaps. “He rubs me the wrong way. Do you even know anything about him?”
I rub my temples, annoyed. “Everyone I associate with rubs you the wrong way, Seth. We’re not kids anymore. I don’t need you to protect me.”
The gnawing headache is persistent, and I ignore Seth as he grumbles.
I can’t get my mind off Fergus and the way he walked out.
He thought that I was being reckless, that I didn’t care about myself.
I didn’t know how to tell him how scared I was.
I know how dangerous this gang is.
The effects of the drugs faded, but I am still quite nauseous and tired, and as I sit with Seth, I wish I could go home and crawl into bed.
It is more than just the effects of the drug. A part of me is shaken at what was done to me.
Fergus was right. Getting the police involved would mean getting too much attention from the Street Serpents. If they had me in their sights, I would never get the answers I want.
“You okay?” Seth gives me an apprehensive look. “You look pale.”
“Yeah.” I nod, jerkily. “Just a slight headache. You know, from the food poisoning.”
Seth looks incredulous. “You have a headache because of food poisoning?”
I shrug and try to divert the subject. “So, how’s the community center going? I heard you were thinking of setting up a small gym for the kids.”
Seth smiles, his entire face transforming.
The minute he got out of foster care, Seth started working at the local community center, starting as one of the helpers and gradually moving up the ladder over the years to finally becoming one of the top-tier members who managed and ran the center. He put a decade of work into it, and he adores this place.
He always loved kids.
“I thought maybe a gym for the younger kids would help them relieve their stress. I’ve already invested some of the funds in some easy equipment, and we managed to secure a centrally located area near the school district. It’s going great! You should come check it out. I can give you a tour.”
My smile is forced as he rambles on.
I want to be happy for him, but there is a gaping emptiness in my chest, a gnawing pain, and I want to get away from this place, from him.
I need to be out there, looking for my little brother, trying to hunt down some clues instead of sitting here, eating pasta and making small talk.
“You’re far away.” Seth blinks at me owlishly, his dark eyes holding disappointment. “What’s wrong?”
My shoulders tense, my headache steadily becoming worse. “I think I’m going to leave, Seth. I’m still not feeling so well.”
Seth tenses. “I knew we should have stayed in.”
I give him a weak smile. “Yeah, my bad.”
He stands up in a sudden move, his chair toppling backward with a large crash.
People turn to look in our direction, and he looks sheepish, muttering an apology as he rights the chair. “Let me drive you home.”
I nod, not in any mood to walk anywhere.
I dig in my purse, but he shakes his head. “I got this. Don’t worry. Why don’t you go wait by the car?”
I want to protest, but I also want to leave this place.
I want to close my eyes and rest.
I want to think of how to get to Roy without pissing him off.
I want the police to be more helpful than simply telling me that they are doing all they can, with that derisive smirk on their faces.
Shrugging on my jacket, I quickly walk out and go to stand beside the silver convertible. This car is Seth’s pride and joy. He bought it used and fixed it up himself.
I can see my reflection in it, and then tighten my hood as the snow starts falling around me.
It is dark outside, and I jump when I hear a noise nearby.
My pulse racing and mouth dry, I quickly turn around to see a couple walking by.
Rubbing my arms to get rid of the goosebumps, I have a niggling feeling that the encounter with the jeering Dominic and his friends hasn’t left me entirely unscathed.
Wishing that Seth would hurry up, I shiver, my back to the car, my eyes following the few people that are scurrying out of the sudden snow.
I am jumping at every shadow.
Fergus told me that it would take time for the drugs to completely flush out of my system. Maybe that is the actual reason I am feeling so jittery.
It is nearing eight in the evening.
If I had been feeling like myself, or even remotely human, I would have gone home, changed, and gone to the bar.
But I don’t want to see Fergus.
I can still remember the way his hands gripped my hair, and his mouth slid over mine. The hot, wet sensations still linger over my lips, and my mouth trembles.
I never met somebody who made me feel like this.
His presence is intoxicating, especially when he drops that charming veneer, and his Irish accent thickens. Every time his accent becomes more pronounced, it makes me clench my legs together. I have never met a man who made me so wanton, although I try my best to hide it.
> It is absolutely embarrassing!
I didn’t mean to push him, today, in the kitchen, but I couldn’t help myself from teasing him, more so when he fidgeted like that. Most of my teasing was to cover up my confused feelings of attraction.
And then I pushed him too far.
My cold fingers go to my lips.
When he kissed me like that in retaliation, I melted, my mind going blank. I have been kissed a few times, but never like that; never with this wildness.
“Hey, what’re you daydreaming about?”
Seth’s voice breaks into my thoughts, and I blink, my cheeks red. “Nothing, just cold.”
He swears, fumbling with the car keys. “I should’ve told you to wait in the car.”
I don’t say anything, and as we drive back in silence, I feel the odd looks he keeps giving me, and then sigh. “What, Seth?”
He shrugs his shoulders in what I assume is an attempt at looking nonchalant. “Nothing, I was just wondering if you planned to see this Ferin guy again.”
I roll my eyes. “His name’s Fergus, and I hardly think it’s any of your business.”
Dear God, it feels like I am spending half my time just telling people to mind their business.
He gives me a hurt look. “You know I care about you.”
My shoulders droop, and I sigh. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve just been having a couple of rough days, Seth.”
I feel his hand settle on mine, and I feel comforted by the warm, familiar presence of it.
He gives me a sweet smile. “You know I’m always here for you, don’t you, Sarah?”
My heart lightens, and I find myself smiling back. “I know. We’re family.”
A strange expression crosses his face, but it is gone before I can identify it, and he murmurs, “Right.”
He doesn’t let go of my hand, though.
When he stops in front of my building, he offers to come up with me, and I firmly put my foot down. I don’t need him babying me any more than he already attempts to.
I watch him leave and then make my way up to my apartment.
I am so grateful that it is on the first floor because a glance at a notice on the elevator tells me it isn’t going to be functional for the next few days.
Letting myself into my apartment, I toss the keys on the table and throw myself face down onto the couch.
I want to get up and make myself a cup of tea, but I don’t want to do anything. I want to lie on the couch and feel sorry for myself.
Turning my head so as not to end up suffocating myself, I stare at the black tv screen, trying to empty my head. It feels like a thousand hammers are raining in my skull and I close my eyes, trying to will the headache away.
My purse is on the floor next to the couch, and I hear the vibration, making me sigh and reach down into my bag and feel the contents of my bag, eyes still closed.
Drawing out my phone, I open one eye and peek at the unknown number.
Wincing, I answer. “Hello?”
The Irish accent on the other end makes my eyes pop open in shock. “Fergus?”
“You sound surprised,” I can hear the amusement in his tone.
“How did you get my number?” I ask.
“I took it from Agatha. Listen, I need to talk to you. Are you coming to the bar?”
I groan. “No. My head is killing me.”
He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and then I hear his muffled voice. “Did you get any sleep after I left?”
It sounds like he is walking and I wonder what he is doing outside in this weather.
“Maybe an hour or two. I couldn’t sleep properly,” I find myself admitting.
“Have you had anything to eat?”
I stare at the plastic bag on the table, which holds half of my unfinished meal. “No.”
“I have hot soup on me right now.”
He doesn’t ask, but I can feel the question in his voice.
Suddenly, all my previous apprehensions vanish, and the desire to see him is so strong that I hear myself saying, “Soup sounds nice. I wouldn’t mind some soup. I love soup.”
His rich laughter in my ear makes me tingle in all the right places, and I bite my lip when he says, still laughing, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I am about to say something when I hear his voice turn annoyed. “Hey, what are you–”
The sound of flesh hitting flesh and a grunting sound has me sitting up, my eyes wide. “Fergus?”
I can hear some muted sounds, and someone saying something, and someone shouting.
“Fergus!”
My hand clasps on my mouth when the line suddenly goes dead.
I sit in the sudden silence, not knowing what to do, my blood thundering in my ears.
What just happened?
Getting on to my feet, I stare around blindly, my fingers running through my hair, agitated.
Somebody attacked him.
Who can I call?
I stare at my phone, trying to think.
Agatha has my number, but I don’t have hers. Maybe if I call the bar?
Fumbling with the phone, I look for Ritters’ website. Finding the number, I dial it, only for it to go unanswered.
I try again, and it is on the fourth try that someone finally answers, a vaguely annoyed voice. “Yes?”
I swallow, panicking. “Uh, hi, I need to talk to someone in the management or something. It’s very urgent.”
The voice sounds exasperated. “Well, you’re speaking to someone. What is it?”
“This is Sarah. Uh, I come to the bar sometimes.”
The annoyance immediately vanishes from the person’s voice, only to be replaced by a curiosity that I don’t understand. “Sarah? Fergus isn’t here.”
I don’t bother asking him why he would say that. To be honest, it doesn’t register at that moment that he automatically assumed that I would want to speak to Fergus.
“Fergus. I was talking to Fergus on his phone, and I think he was attacked.”
The man on the other end becomes serious, suddenly, his voice harsh, “What? What do you mean ‘attacked?’?”
I sink onto the couch, holding my head in my hand, letting the fear leak into my voice. “He was saying something about coming over with soup, and then I think there was someone there and he didn’t sound too happy, and then I heard someone hitting him and then I couldn’t hear anything. But there was someone shouting, and then the line went dead. And I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know where he is!”
“Calm down,” the person instructs, his voice hard. “It’s not that easy to take Fergus down like that. I’ll take care of it.”
I am left staring at my phone when the line goes dead.
Twisting and untwisting my hands, I blink back my tears of frustration.
This isn’t my fault.
I know that.
But why did it seem that lately everything is?
I have been pacing the apartment for twenty minutes, all my calls to the bar and Fergus’s phone going unanswered, when there is a knock on the door.
I rush to it and look outside, using the peephole.
Seeing who is standing there, my heart nearly stops, and after some initial fumbling with the locks, I throw open the door.
Fergus stands there, leaning against the door jamb.
His slicked hair is ruffled, a bruise blooming on his cheek and his mouth bleeding. He doesn’t have a jacket on him, his black shirt torn. He looks like he just got into a fight.
He gives me a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I forgot the soup.”
I open my mouth and closed it.
Taking one step forward, I grab him by the lapels of his shirt and drag him down to slam my mouth against his. It is a swift punishing kiss, and even though my body tingles where his hands brush as he drags me closer, I push him away, glaring. “What the hell is wrong with you? I was so worried!”
The delight in his eyes makes me bite my tongue. “You were worried about me
?”
I step aside to let him in and close the door behind him. “Of course, I was! We were talking, and suddenly there’s shouting, and somebody is hitting someone, and then the phone went dead! You wouldn’t even pick up! I had to call the bar!”
Fergus limps to the couch I had just vacated and sits with a wince. “You called the bar? I was at the restaurant today. I had the meeting with the marketing exec–”
He stops mid-sentence, and then looks at me. “Who did you talk to?”
Had he been wanting to say marketing executive? Isn’t he just a bartender?
However, he is waiting for a response, and I frown. “Some guy. He told me not to worry and that he’d handle it, and then he hung up.”
Fergus blinks and then pats his pockets, cursing. “I dropped my phone.”
I offer him mine, and he accepts it gratefully.
When his fingers graze mine, I realize how cold they are. “You’re freezing. Wait!”
As he makes his calls, I rush around to raise the temperature of the apartment and grab some towels.
When I come back, he is arguing with someone on the phone. “Look, I’m fine. No, I don’t need a hospital. Shut it or I’m going to stick that stupid breadstick up your ass!”
“Is everything okay?” I mouth, handing him a towel.
He rolls his eyes at me and then growls. “Unless you plan to play nursemaid, Ian, get off my ass.”
When he ends the call, I purse my lips. “That sounded bad.”
He looks startled. “Oh, no. He was just ragging on me.”
I watch him towel his hair, and ask hesitantly, “Was it Ian that I talked to on the phone? Does he work with you?”
Fergus tries rolling up his sleeves before making a disgusted sound. Giving up on that, he starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Yeah. He doesn’t work there.”
Then, he glances at me, his hands pausing. “Uh, sorry. My shirt’s wet. I have to take it off.”
I chew on my lower lip. “You should probably take a hot shower.”
He gives me a wistful look. “Are you sure that’s okay?”
I nod. “You’ll catch a cold, otherwise.”
He looks relieved.
While he is in the shower in Bryan’s bathroom, I go through Bryan’s things and pick out a white T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. As I put the clothes out, I hear the click of the door, and I quickly leave the room to give him some privacy to change.
