by B Amari
The dominance in his voice had me sitting back in my chair with a shallow nod. I’d been out of interpersonal relationships for so long I forgot that being a demanding twatface to someone who was trying to help you, probably wasn’t the best way to get results.
Andreas reared his stare on Silas, who was paying him no mind. His eyes were confused, unsure, and if I deciphered it right, lost in some memory. He wasn’t paying attention at all.
“Silas.” Andreas called.
Silas’ head snapped up. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
Andreas ignored the open drawer in front of him and folded his hands together on his desk. “This young lady was assaulted, and that obviously pissed you off. I would take that to mean you care for her. The cops are useless so I’ve hired an investigator I trust irrevocably. You can help, by playing by my rules, or you can leave now.”
Silas’ face screwed up in confusion. As did mine. “You’ve done what!? How dare you? This is my life my problems and I don’t know you!” I stopped myself. Stop being a twatface to the nice suitman.
“What happens in, and around my clubs, is my business. And I would personally like to keep cult killers from preying on my customers, thank you very much. As I said. My rules, or leave.”
Squarely put in my place I sat back and crossed my legs.
“Wait, slow down,” Silas’ injected. “Cult killers? Emma, what have you gotten yourself into?” he directed at me.
Before I could tell him that I had no idea, Andreas laughed. Both Silas and I spun on him. “What in the hell is so funny?”
“Emma, eh? Does this poor man know anything about you? Anything real?” Andreas turned to Silas. “The ID she used here the last couple weeks says Angelica D’cossa.”
It was their turn to turn on me now. I felt trapped. Entirely trapped. Everything was coming unraveled. This was why I didn’t make connections with other people, or at least no more than a passing hello.
It never took long for people to find a hole in my story, or a tear in my shield. I wasn’t a goddamn Einstein, by any means.
I deflected. I was good at that. Ignoring both their questioning stares, I prodded for what other information Andreas had.
“So, rules followed, what information do you have to share?” I added a snarky Detective Man to the end in my head.
Silas stopped staring at me as his attention was drawn to Andreas.
Andreas had went for his drawer and withdrew a small box, a recording tape, and a file of noticeable size. “Well, what I do know for sure is that I have the man's face on tape entering the club twenty minutes before you. Jacques, my investigator is tracking that now, but we didn't get any hits from our precinct.” Andreas put the tape to the side, closer to me, and I was tempted to snatch it.
Picking up the small velvet box, he sat it in front of me. I examined it. It’s black velvet outside looked soft, a hard contrast to the warm golden edging that had been added to its opening crease.
“No, I won’t marry you,” I said sarcastically. “What is this?” I picked it up, opened it.
Andreas looked at me waiting for a reaction. Silas peeked around the open lid to see the cushion inside, and what lay on it.
“A button!” I growled. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this? It’s a fucking button, how is that important to me?”
Andreas laughed again. “Feisty.” He picked up the file folder and passed it to me. “I thought the same when Jacques presented it to me from the scene, but his gut instincts are almost never wrong.”
I opened the folder and the first paper I saw was a print out of the same kind of button, enlarged. Seeing it so much bigger gave me more detail. It was stamped with a tree, barren of leaves, burning to ash. Morbid. It looked as if there may have been something laying on the ground at its trunk but it was worn down by time, I assumed.
I flipped the paper over to see what else there was. Searches of fashion company logos, searches into religious orders, searches into family crests, a lot that came close but none that matched.
The next paper I looked at had a green block at the top, with white letters that read MATCH. I zeroed in on the information. One match under a mythology search, in one old document, that had been scanned/photographed and entered into a museum database. There it was the burning tree symbol.
The information the old document contained didn’t tell me much at all. But there were key words the researchers had picked out, translated and looked into. Only five words mattered to me. Ancient order, protection, and death, to start.
The one that struck me though: God-Hunter. “So this is why you think it was an attempted cult killing, or sacrifice or whatever?”
Andreas nodded. Silas took the folder and looked at it for himself. “He’s not wrong, Em.. I mean Angelica. I kind of recognize this symbol, except, it’s not right, it’s a twisted variation of the original.”
Andreas attention perked. “Something you want to share, there, young man?”
Silas ignored the jab and looked to me. “My Papou had a pin he would use only on his church clothes. I never knew what it was or how he got it, but it looked just like the picture of the button here,” he flipped the pages back to the front and pointed at the printed photo. “The tree is right, but there should be a cloud like top behind the branches, and apples on them. The fire is wrong, it should be a serpent coiled around it, protecting it. Tell Jacques to look into the legend of the Golden Apples.”
Andreas nodded with a sense of understanding and turned back to me.
“What now, hmm?” This day/night just couldn’t get anymore confusing. Everything that had happened...
“Jacques and his men will find this guy. But in the meantime, I think it’s best you not stay at your hotel. If he knew where you frequented, he may have more intel on your whereabouts.” Andreas said, interrupting my thoughts.
“Oh well…” I started. I liked my hotel. They didn’t ask questions, let me pay in cash, and had more than one escape route from my room.
Silas spoke up. “There’s an apartment above the cafe. No ones using it right now, you could stay. I mean, stay there if you wanted to, you could.”
I smiled. Silas was always so thoughtful, respectful, he never pressured anything. The offer was so like him, or what I’d gotten to know periodically over the last two years.
“Or,” Andreas inserted. “I own the top three floors of the building next door. You could use one of the rooms free of charge, they're all vacant so plenty of privacy.”
I quite like being in screaming distance, at this moment thanks. I thought to myself.
Silas scowled, but he didn’t need too. Mr. Suit-man had enough control over me right now. I didn’t like it. “Thanks Mr. Drakos, but I think I’ll take Silas up on his offer. It’s more discreet.”
Andreas jaw clenched, hard lines creasing his face but he didn’t protest. With a quick nod to the door I was dismissed.
“Oh and Angelica, here,” he threw me another larger box. “It’s a burner phone, my number is programmed in it. We will continue this tomorrow.”
Well it looks like I wasn’t going anywhere, any time soon. This was a mess. Such a fucking mess.
Silas rose and took my hand in a platonic I-know-you’re-panicking kind of way. “Let’s go.”
When I got to the door and Silas had walked through I looked back at Andreas, “My name isn’t Angelica either, by the way. Medoe, my name is Medoe Remes. Like a field.” With that I snidely turned and left the club.
The look on his face! Priceless.
I had to get packing, just not to leave this place, unfortunately.
Silas dropped me off at my hotel, and said goodnight with a wave. I heaved my exhausted body through the door and up the stairs to my room.
Throwing myself on the bed, I ignored the packing idea, that was stupid. Why would I think I could do anything right now? Life had exhausted me.
Soon I was thrown into dreams of serpents, swords and knights of old.
<
br /> Chapter 5
I was dragging ass. I knew I was. Everything that had happened in the last few days had finally decided to catch up with me. It felt like my brain was mush.
I wasn’t in control. Not of anything. Not of where I was staying, not of my curse - which shocked me, I should be happy to be rid of it, but something inside me said it wasn’t done with me...I didn’t like the uncertainties - I didn’t have control over these two men that had inserted themselves into the roles of my protectors, and I had no idea who the men that were after me, actually were.
It was too much.
I let my mind wander and was pleasantly surprised my body was still going about the motions. I’d pulled some of my luggage out of the closet and put them on the bed, I had my weapons by themselves on the sofa. Even my duffle for dirty clothes had been packed… well the ones that fit, there was still a rather large pile on the floor.
I really needed to get to the laundromat.
Well, that was a third of my things, half organized. I deserve a break.
I didn’t need to be ready for hours. When Silas was done working his shift, he would come over to help.
I walked to the oversized bathroom - well oversized for what I had to pay to stay here at least - and started running a bath. I added the little bottles of oil the hotel left for its guests, and then some bubble bath.
No reason not to treat myself. I stripped down and slipped into the water, which I’d run way too hot. I inched my way down as my body became less sensitive to its heat.
Leaning back, I rested my head on my neck pillow and closed my eyes.
Pictures of Suitman flashed behind my eyelids. His domineering speech in his office, the roller coaster of happy to frustrated to care free he had taken me on when he was trying to identify me, the strong set of his jaw. I could almost hear the deep timber of his voice.
His piercing golden honey eyes shone with lust, but he wasn’t affected. Was I really broken? Was it me? Maybe it was him. I wouldn’t really know until some unfortunate man went into a catatonic state, again.
But then my thoughts floated to the deep brown warmth of Silas’ eyes staring at me with concern and protectiveness. Then in a flash of images his eyes turned to lust too. The moment he saw me in that get-up at the club. He too, was perfectly fine.
I took a deep breath and tried to clear my mind. I ran through the meditation techniques I knew, and sang some of my favourite songs in my head. None of it really worked, it just allowed me to be distracted for a moment. When I realized the water was starting to cool, I blanked, and my problems came rushing back to the surface of my mind.
Revolving theories ran through my mind until they were interrupted by a brisk knock on the door. I twitched out of my comfort coma, and tried to stand to get out of the tub.
But that wasn’t what happened. I stood alright, and then immediately slipped on the oily water in the tub, falling in a heap - half in and half out of the porcelain - and smashed my head on the sink vanity with a clatter and a thud.
“Em, I’m coming in!” Silas’ voice rang from the other side of the door, still using the name I’d given him years ago.
I tried to tell him to give me a moment, but I was dizzy, and it felt like my tongue was swollen in my mouth. I tried to move it and tasted the copper flavour of blood. Great, I’d bitten my tongue.
Without getting a response Silas took the silence as my need for him to be a hero. I had locked the door but it wasn’t high tech. Silas didn’t need a key card. All he needed was a good shove and a strong shoulder.
With a horrible splintering sound the door swung open, and Silas’ tanned body fell through the doorway. Looking back at his damage he sheepishly said, “I’ll pay for that,” and ran his fingers through his hair.
It was his sheepish tone that made me see floaty hearts all around him in that moment, or maybe that was whatever was wrong with my head. Either way, I tried to call out to him. All that left me was an unintelligible grunting sound that made me cringe.
His head snapped to where I lay, and he rushed over. Reaching down and checking me for injuries his voice sounded panicked.
“What happened? Did he find you? Are you okay?”
I liked the feel of his hands roaming my body in search of injury, but now wasn’t the time.
Silas scooped me up in his arms, and took me to the bed. He laid me beside my luggage and went back to the bathroom and found my robe. He laid it over me and sat down at my side.
“I’m sorry. I have to slow down. Are you okay?” he asked gently.
I nodded. How was I going to explain without talking? I pointed to the bath.
Silas followed the direction I pointed. “You were in the bath.”
I nodded again. I made a set of legs with my fingers and used my other hand like a tub. I used my finger legs to try and get out of the tub, and slip in the process.
“You slipped?”
I nodded. I punched one hand into the other then pointed to the egg that was surely growing on my forehead.
“And you hit your head. Okay I’m getting the picture here, but why can’t you talk right now?”
I used my hands to signal the fall, then pointed to my mouth. Then I made crocodile jaws with my fingers and made them chomp, chomp, chomp. I tried to open my mouth but it was sore. I managed a bit, and a small trickle of blood dropped from the corner of my lips.
“Oh god. I’m sorry Em. I arrived early and startled you. This is my fault.”
I shook my head but he wasn’t looking at me. I pounded my fist on the bed, and he looked up. I set my eyes on his, pouring the intensity of my meaning into them and shook my head again.
This is NOT your fault. I was absent minded and clumsy, accidents happen. Don’t blame yourself.
I hoped he got the message.
My new phone rang, and I looked around trying to find where I’d set it. Silas rose off the bed and made his way to the desk. Oh yeah, I’d thrown it in a drawer and forgot about it.
Silas retrieved the annoyingly upbeat device and looked at the screen. “It’s Andreas. Should I answer?”
Begrudgingly I nodded. He was my best shot at answers right now, and thankfully I wouldn’t personally have to field the call. Maybe Silas’ early arrival had been a blessing.
Silas put the phone to his ear.
“Hello? No, she can’t come to the phone right now. What do you mean why? Does she need a reason? Mmphm, uh-huh. Well she’s in no state to talk, her mouth is quite out of service at the moment.” Silas ended the call, and I laughed.
His jealous streak was adorable, and his defensive innuendo was all kinds of naughty, it was endearing.
The phone started to ring again, and with a chuckle from both Silas and I, he answered it,
“Hello again.” Silas stared blunty and then waited in silence. After a moment he said, “Fine, she’ll be at the cafe, meet us there.”
I looked at him questioningly. “Okay Em, let's get you fixed up.”
Silas found ice for my tongue, and a safe antiseptic for me to swish. I had an ice pack on my forehead while I got dressed, and Silas had gotten me some orange juice hoping it would help the dizziness, but it only stung my already painful tongue wound.
When I felt more human again I mumbled passed my tongue, the swelling going down bit by bit. “Goinon?”
“Andreas wants us to meet him at the cafe, said we needed to talk. He brought his investigator.”
I nodded and grabbed my coat. I pulled a cap over my hair, hiding the bruise that was forming on my hairline.
The air was brisk on our walk to the cafe, but I didn’t mind. I was focused on the swelling as it dwindled and wondered how long it would take to heal. There was some random fact niggling at the back of my mind and I pulled on it.
I had read an article online once, it had mentioned a scientist that had studied why the mouth heals so fast, in order to try and apply the same system to other injuries in the elderly and those who had healing deficiencie
s. I could remember bits and pieces. Then it came to me: the mouth rarely need stitches because the wound repair genes in a person's mouth are on duty 24/7, like that bitch never sleeps, ready to kick ass healing anytime any place. But skin wounds repair genes only activate or help when called upon and even then it takes its sweet ass time, like those teenage cashiers that are always chewing gum, while twirling their hair, and trying to get the perfect selfie.
When we entered the shop, the smell overwhelmed me and I breathed it in deep. Perfection. The coffee smell, with caramel and vanilla undertones. Just like Silas, I mused.
I would gladly brave the sting, or the burning sensation that was likely waiting in my mouth for me if I were to grab a caffeine boost right now, but Silas grabbed my arm gently and led me passed the counter, towards the sitting area.
The barista behind the counter gave us a wave, and Silas directed me to a table around the bookshelves and towards the back.
We didn’t wait long before the small bell chimed announcing a new arrival, or arrivals as the case may be.
Andreas walked around the corner, and my mouth gaped open. He wasn’t wearing a suit, and was that ever fan-fucking-tastic. In a pair of tight black jeans and a black muscle shirt that clung to him like skin, Andreas looked like something out of a magazine.
An x-rated one, by my thoughts.
As soon as I recovered I studied the man behind him. Jacques was probably in his late thirties, early forties. Smooth pale skin, and fiery red hair. Freckles scattered his nose and cheeks. He looked so harmless. So innocent. He didn’t look directly at me, thankfully.
I figured that first innocent impression helped when you were a private investigator trying to blend into places you weren’t meant to be.
They sat down at the table and Andreas took command. I was starting to think that was his auto setting.
“I’ve tasked Jacques with finding this cult, we don’t have much yet, but Jacques here never lets me down.” Andreas patted the man on the back and turned back to me.
