by T Shadow
Mr. Grigori yanks on my hand this time, pulling me from my warring stupor. From his unmoving stance, it’s clear that the guy's having some sort of anxiety attack from being in an unfamiliar environment. He's wringing his hands together and looking around nervously. I’m still in two minds whether I'm the right person to help or not when Mr. Grigori lays a hand on my arm, pulling my attention from the Heir to him.
If Mr. Grigori was forty years younger, I might’ve met my own personal hero in Stonehold. However, the withering elderly gentlemen only looked into my eyes with sincerity and an overwhelming sense of calm. I’m stumped as to why, considering that the old man was tighter than a father with their wallet no more than ten seconds ago.
“Maybe you should go and help him, Remi.” He looks back at the heir again before looking back at me, “He looks lost and... un-acclimatized to this setting.”
My eyes widened slightly at his response. Instead of blaming the poor kid’s behaviour on anxiety, like any other old person would do, he saw right through the stigma and straight to his issues. I knew Mr. Grigori was an old supernatural, but now I’ve added fucking mindreader to the list of shit he's capable of. At the moment, the list is quite small as he doesn’t let me see too much of him, but then again, I don’t let him see too much of me either.
“Only if you come with me,” I whisper to the old guy, “You know more than you let on." He decides not to answer me, but to smile instead. With that small smile as confirmation, I walk with Mr. Grigori towards the Heir... kid... boy. Calling him an heir seems slightly inappropriate outside of the realm, but surely, one is proud of their title if they’re lucky to have one, no?
The lad is still standing in the middle of the welcome mat just inside the front entrance. His eyes are finding solace in the floor, content with avoiding any other customers and staff who mull around him. It’s a change from his behaviour at the bar the other night, and it's only when Mr. Grigori and I move closer, that his eyes flick from the floor to us repeatedly, as if he’s trying to catalogue our features before we get there. As if he’s trying to suss us out before we get close enough to engage in conversation or a fight.
Thankfully, there’s not much that a frail old man or myself can do in a public space, so the kid is safe for now. I’m also thankful that it's not me that engages in conversation with the kid first, but Mr. Grigori. I’d probably shout at him to move and then shoulder bump him for good measure. Because my 'people skills' are 'rusty'.
“Are you alright lad?” Mr. Grigori pokes his finger into the boy’s arm, demanding attention. The kid does the last thing I expect him to - instead of standing up straight and demanding the old man be taken away for daring to touch him, the poor kid jumps and skitters a meter away from the offending appendage; as if he’s scared of an old man’s finger.
“Y-Yeah, I’m f-fine," His eyes are still skittish, eagerly seeking out Finnegan, who’s ginger hair is currently darting around the shop at a breakneck pace.
I don’t realise that Mr. Grigori has shuffled off towards the poor defenseless guy until he’s already there, curling his hand firmly around the kid’s elbow, patting his hand in that gentle caressing way that only elderly people seem to emanate. The lad is still skittish, but his body deflates, his anxiety refusing to hold his muscles hostage any longer. His eyes are still darting around to find his friend running about in the shop, and it's only when he finds him that his eyes settle, watching his friend shoot around one aisle before darting up another with such impetus.
“... I’m sure you're not afraid of a supermarket." It’s only the end of the statement I catch, but I’m sure Mr. Grigori is referring to big open spaces and not just a large amount of fruit and vegetables. I mean, I hope he’s not talking about being scared of vegetables for fucks sake.
“I was never a big fan of open spaces either, funny that, considering where I come from.” Leaning forward, I get ready to absorb every bit of information that Mr. Grigori is willing to offer. “But enough of that,” WHAT?! “I think you’ll be alright if we wait here, and we’ll wait... won’t we, Remi?”
I’m pretty sure my eyes are bugging out of my head, looking like one of those cartoons from the television. Not only is the old guy pushing this kid’s boundaries, but mine as well. I've opened my mouth to protest when Mr. Grigori turns his head slightly, shooting me a glare that would turn me to stone if he was a certain snake-haired Gorgon. I mean, thankfully he’s not, but those eyes are demanding an answer and not just any answer, but an appropriate answer. There’s only so many times I can swallow down my sarcastic, witty answers like ‘sorry! I’m kinda busy’ and ‘nah, don’t like hanging around strangers’, before Mr. Grigori elbows me in the side.
The answer that finally slips from my lips is a pained, “sure.”
As that word leaves my lips, the Heir kid slowly turns his head to face me. His eyes are still as vibrant as the other day, and from the way that Mr. Grigori straightens up beside me, I’m guessing that he also recognizes those gold pools that sit behind the black framed glasses. Unfortunately for me though, those gold spheres have affixed themselves onto my green pools with a hint of recognition. Which, theoretically, should be impossible.
“Do-do I know y-you?” His eyes narrow slightly, becoming increasingly curious about me, more than he should be.
“I don’t think so,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders. “I’ve lived here for a while, and I’ve never left during that time.”
He goes to open his mouth to say something more, but he's interrupted as Mika rocks up with three bags of shopping with a confused Finn trailing slightly behind her. I look up at Finn, whose eyes are flicking between the kid, Mr. Grigori and I. It seems as though Finn is assessing whether little old me and the frail old man are a threat to the small Heir, and he probably realises that we realise that. A pang of realisation also seems to cross his features, and although he seems to be the older of the two, he seems to react in the same way that the kid does. I really should stop calling him a kid for Christ’s sake.
“B-Bookstore?” Before I even have the opportunity to think about formulating a perfectly acceptable answer, my mouth interrupts my thinking process.
“Funny, you didn’t have a stutter a few days ago.” Adding insult to injury, my eyebrow also lifts, wordlessly calling him out. My statement only seems to increase the awkwardness. My shitty attempt at some friendly banter made me come across like I was rude as fuck... I mean, I kinda am… But I’m hoping, praying, that he manages to see it as harmless banter, and not like I’m some male cat, territorial and pissing all over my town.
“Well I saw you both at the bookshop and the bar in one day, so I was stumped between saying whether I saw you at the bar or the bookshop. But I thought the bookshop was the safer bet."
It's the most words he has said to me in one sentence, especially when it's accompanied by a blush and a stutter that’s caused by embarrassment issues. “By bar you mean pub right?” He nods, and the blush recedes slightly. “Ah got you, okay, well that’s sorted that out.” I turn to the kid and hold my hand out, ready to shake his in our first ‘official’ introduction, ever the poised professional that I like to think that I am.
“Well, it was nice to meet you…”
His eyes stare at Finn until he gets a nod of approval, “Leland.” He lifts his hand as he replies helpfully.
“Ah well, my name’s Remi, and I own the bookshop in town.” I take hold of his hand gently, as not to scare the poor guy and he clasps mine in return.
“I-I like b-books.” That makes my eyebrow raise slightly in bewilderment.
“You seem like more of a computer person if I’m honest. Fact or fiction?”
He looks at Finn again, getting the head nod before replying. What the fuck is with all the conferring? “Fact, ma-mainly."
I only nod in return because my suspicions were right, although the idea that he possibly reads fiction is a very small surprise. “So the complete opposite to Finn then?” It’s when
I turn to face him that I realise there’s a blush climbing up his neck. He was in the dirty-book section the other day, so does he think that I’m about to air his guilty pleasure?
Leland only raises his eyebrow slightly in response, seeming confused about my statement. "Finn likes romance novels best, d-don't you, Finn?" It doesn't escape my notice that the last bit of that was a question, rather than solid fact. I bark out a laugh and wiggle my eyebrows at Mika, before shrugging my shoulders at Mr. Grigori, pretending to be none the wiser.
"Romance is my preferred genre, yes. Although I'm also interested in historical architecture and antique motor vehicles, planes, ships and the like." Mr. Grigori's eyes shine brighter for a second before he holds his hand out towards Finn.
"Mr. Grigori, nice to meet you." His hand clasps Finn's as he shakes it, but before Finn can even introduce himself, Mr. Grigori soldiers on in his pursuit of a common interest. "Motor vehicles eh? What about trains? Do you like those?"
In his desperate attempt to keep the conversation going, Mr. Grigori starts walking towards the exit, using Finn as a human walking stick. In order to keep up, we all meander behind them as they walk down the street towards the houses. It's only when they turn towards the Hotel that I stop to let them go before I realise I'm still carrying a bag of Mr. Grigori's shopping. Leland stops beside Mika and I, his unstyled brown hair blowing in the wind, and his gaze flicking between us both before finally settling on my face. It must be flushed from all the walking, considering I am not a walker.
It’s also probably flushed because I’m in close vicinity to two ridiculously good looking dragon-shifters who I should definitely not be around for the sake of my own sanity. Unsure of whether to follow Mr. Grigori in his pursuit of happiness, or to put on the breaks and head home faster than a criminal on the run— I wait where I am, stuck in the middle of the street, holding onto someone else’s shopping and not knowing what the fuck to do. On the inside, I’m shitting myself. On the outside, I look perpetually disturbed. This is a one foot on the platform, the other on the train kinda situation; do I stay, or should I go?
It seems as if the kid, Leland rather, is having the same existential crisis as I am. Although, I don’t understand why he hasn’t instinctively gone with his friend, surely his friend is more trustworthy than little old me. Little old me could do some real damage. Not that he knows that. We’re both caught in the fight or flight stage, although it’s more like a stay or go stage. As I turn to look at him, I realise he’s been staring at me for a while, and I’ve been preoccupied with internally questioning how sane he is. I would say that I’m surprised that he’s not looking at me like I’m criminally insane, but rather, he’s looking at me again as if he recognises me. Which is absurd, seen as I’ve been in this town for the better part of a century.
“You alright ki- Leland?” His unfocused eyes blink a few times before they focus back on me. His gold eyes stare into mine almost as if they’re trying to read the very fibres of my soul. I know that most dragons don’t have mind reading powers— but damn if it doesn’t feel as if he’s trying to regardless.
The staring goes on for a while until he snaps out of it. “Y-yeah, I’m a-alright,” he looks over to the direction of the Hotel where Mr. Grigori and Finn are standing in the distance. I follow his line of sight so that I’m not just blindly staring at him like a creepy creeper. “A-are you a-alright?”
His question takes me by surprise. He doesn’t really string together a whole sentence, just two quick retorts of mindless small talk. “Yeah, you know.. I’m alright. Mika, are you alright?” She’s a little bit behind us, chewing on a stick of toffee that she got from God-knows where. Her little hood bobs up and down as she nods.
“Mika’s also fine,” Leland looks behind him at the hoodie clad shifter and nods his head slightly, acknowledging her presence behind us like the Grim Reaper awaiting a slow death. “So,” I carry on with the small talk, “You’re staying at the Hotel du Vin?”
“Mhmm.. y-yes. I-its very…” with a raised eyebrow, I finished his sentence for him.
“Intense?” It's the one word that brings his attention straight back to me. His eyes widen slightly before narrowing, as if he’s holding onto a secret that no one else knows; thankfully, everyone here knows the infamous secret of the Hotel du Vin and its owners.
“Yes, we’re aware of the Hotel,” his posture relaxes slightly, “I’m assuming you haven’t met the owners?” A little shake of his head answers my question. “Do you get woken up during the night, feeling a little… intense?” He nods again. “Ah, well, the owners are Incubus and a Succubus.” The colour fades from his skin slightly and I carry on with my info-dump on the hotel. “Twins, actually. It’s one of the only ways to live in the town without causing mass hysteria… and mass... orgies.”
I swear the poor lad’s eyes bug out of his head. If that wasn’t it, his back is ramrod straight and he’s breathing is slightly heavier than before. I’m not sure that the kid has ever come into close contact with the Succs before, so maybe it’s the fear that they literally suck the bloody life out of you, or this kid’s a virgin. Therefore, from my now slightly-invasive suspicions I will be referring to Leland as ‘kid’ until I get a clear distinction of whether he’s threatened for his life or his v-plates.
Now I’m a creep. The kid is going through some inner turmoil again and I’m thinking about his sacred v-plates. What is wrong with me? I should probably stop referring to him as a kid if I’m going to continue to keep internally discussing his v-plates, I sound like some virgin-concerned pervert.
“You alright?” The poor lad hasn’t changed his posture at all and I’m getting worried that I’ve scared the poor kid off the Hotel. “The Hotel really isn’t that bad, honestly. The owners never come out around the guests, they just feed off of the… sexual residue...” Okay, might be the wrong thing to say, because the kid is now vibrating negatively. Like, scared vibrating, not vibrating in anticipation. Grabbing the shoulder of his shirt and shaking it slightly, I hope he snaps out of it. Otherwise, I’ve potentially frightened the life out of someone who technically morphs into a ferocious beast. Here’s to hoping he’s one of those rare, pygmy dragons.
Thankfully, the shaking seems to do the trick. I mean, he removes his unending stare from the Hotel and instead turns it back to me. The gold flecks in his eyes have dimmed, making them seem like burnt copper rather than their usual sparkly selves. “Not a fan of Succs are you?”
Raising his eyebrows he whispers, “N-never met one.”
“Huh, really? At your age, I’m sure you must have run into one or two of them. How old are you anyway, two hundred? Two fifty?” A gentle blush climbs up his neck like poison ivy and settles upon his cheeks. Maybe I hit a soft spot? For all I know, I could've just insulted the poor lad by assuming he's much younger than he is.
"N-no."
Damn it, I knew it.
"No I'm not t-t-that old."
THAT OLD? Cheeky son-of-a-
"I-I'm the youngest, at a hu-hundred and seventy."
I'm downright shocked. The youngest! I would've taken bets that he was the same age as that pumped up, jock faced Billy-big-balls guy Landon. This poor lad is really a boy and pretty much a baby. Awh, baby. Now I can see why he's unsettled about the whole sex-demon issue.
"Wow. Really? Guess I was wrong." I nod my head back at Mika, "Mika here's nearly eighty so, you know, she's probably closer to your age than I am." It's a subtle but unsuspecting diversion, because Leland looks Mika over in her all black gear before looking back to the Hotel with that crushing expression again. He must be really uncomfortable there. "Are you not wanting to go back to the Hotel? Don't like the idea of Ariane and Zachariah?"
A little snort escapes him, "Y-Yes, but they're not my main i-issue."
I only raise an eyebrow in response before he turns towards me, his hand held out in what I presume is an opportunity to clasp hands like new acquaintances. Though we already did this at the shop.
"The Su-Succu twins are not a t-threat to me. B-But the Alpha is," He clasps my hand in his and focuses on me as those golden orbs become overcast, his dragon peering out at me underneath the exterior of this stuttering, shy boy. "Avoid the Alpha."
It's the sentence that grips my cold heart in a vice and slowly applies pressure.
"He's the biggest son of a bitch I know, he'll take whatever he wants, when he wants… And you won't be able to say no.”
Eyes dimming back down to their copper counterparts, Leland regains his focus and his eyes immediately dart to and widen at our clasped hands. I may not have noticed it with that ominous and foreboding warning that demanded all of my attention, but his hand is tightly wrapped around mine. Like he’s lost in the crushing void and I’m the only light in the dark.
"I-I'm sorry, I've got to g-go." Reluctantly, he lets go of my hand, takes Mr. Grigori's shopping that I was still holding and speed walks to the Hotel where Finnegan and Mr.Grigori are in the distance.
I'm perturbed by the weirdest experience I've had in awhile, and only in my confused state can I turn to Mika. She stands there with her eyebrows drawn together holding our shopping. It's only when she checks that her hood is securely atop her head that she speaks.
"Shall we go back to Sam and Dean?"
It's one of the best suggestions she's ever had.
•°•
"Son, you don't like me? That's fine. It's not my job to be liked." Recalls Dean, his head in a memory.
"It's my job to raise you right." Sam interjects, finishing the story.
It takes me back to my own life. If it wasn't for some spoiled, over privileged brat, I wouldn't have had to run.
I wish someone would have raised him right.
Many mornings I wake up, and I feel like one of those princesses, surrounded by the animals chirping and grazing under the morning winter sun, fresh dew on the grass and a chilly breeze to start the day. This morning, however, is not one of them. After coming home from that confusing interaction with Leland, Mika and I fell into our pattern of eating everything in sight and continuing to watch Supernatural. We ate so much that we had to drag ourselves from the sofa to the bed in order to secure soft sleeping arrangements for the duration of our food coma.
