Silas

by V. J. Chambers

  Leigh and Griffin were treating me like chopped liver. Christa was pretending she’d never met me. I didn’t know half of the other people.

  We’d been to about three different bars that evening, and now we were heading back to Griffin and Leigh’s place for the last leg of the party.

  “It’s a chance for them to let off steam before they get married,” said Sloane, from the passenger seat of the car.

  I was driving. I would have glared at her, but I had to watch the road. “I don’t get why it’s combined. These things are supposed to be divided by gender. There are supposed to be strippers.”

  She snorted. “Griffin would never go see strippers.”

  “You don’t have to go see them. You can hire them and have them come to your house. They make house calls.”

  “You’re disgusting,” she said.

  “Now, you sound like Griffin.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” she said. “I meant it in the way that you’re a normal, disgusting member of the male species.”

  I pulled into Griffin and Leigh’s parking lot. “Oh, well, that clears it up. I’m no longer the least bit offended,” I said sarcastically.

  “You know.” She considered. “You are kind of a jerk when it comes to girls, Silas.”

  I pulled into a parking spot. “Yes, I’m aware of this. You all don’t have to attack me.”

  “Why is that?” She unbuckled her seat belt. “You’re a good brother. You’re a good friend. Why are you a dick to girls?”

  “I’m not a dick,” I said. “They know what they’re getting into.”

  “Do they really?” She opened her car door. “Because I seriously doubt that you’re laying down ground rules while you’re trying to get in their pants.” She got out of the car.

  I sighed.

  She peered down at me. “Is it because of Sylvia?”

  I got out of the car and slammed the door. “It has nothing to do with Sylvia.”

  “Okay,” she said, shutting her own door. “Does it have to do with Jolene French?”

  I rubbed my forehead. “Do we have to talk about this?”

  “Fine,” she said. “But I think you should really work through your issues.”

  “I think I should go home and let you stay at this party.”

  “You’re my ride,” she said, walking towards Griffin’s and Leigh’s apartment.

  “I’ll come pick you up later,” I said. “You can call me.”

  “No. You’re the best man. You need to be here.”

  I sighed. I followed her.

  * * *

  I came out of the bathroom. “Okay, who’s up for shots?”

  It was quiet.

  Christa looked up at me from the couch. Sloane was passed out next to her. Griffin and Leigh were nowhere in sight. “Oliver and Jordan left.”

  “For real?” I said. “It’s like 12:30.”

  “Yeah, Griffin’s friends are pathetic.”

  I looked around. “I guess Griffin and Leigh went to bed.”

  She nodded. “They’re pathetic too.”

  “You know it,” I said.

  “I remember when I used to think that Griffin was so cool,” she said. “He was my big brother, and I thought everything he did was just the most awesome thing ever.” She shook her head. “And now…”

  I laughed. “Hey, he’s still pretty cool, right?”

  She shrugged. “I know he’s your friend and all, but sometimes... I guess I don’t know him very well. I mean, he was in that coma for all those years, and we thought he was dead.”

  Coma? Oh, yeah. That was right. Griffin had told his family that he’d been in a coma and that the hospital had a paperwork snafu, leading to his being labeled as someone else and his family mistakenly being told he was dead. The truth was that Op Wraith had faked his death when they’d busted him out of prison. His family had no idea that he’d been an assassin.

  Luckily, Sloane and I didn’t have any family to worry about besides each other, so we didn’t have to worry about spinning stories like that.

  “Yeah, that must have been strange for you,” I said. “It must have been like he came back to life.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Pretty much exactly like that. But he’s so different now. He used to be fun, you know? Now, whenever I look at him, he just looks like he’s been through hell or something. There’s all this pain in his eyes. It’s like he’s years older than he actually is.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. Christa was more insightful than she actually knew. But it wasn’t my place to tell her Griffin’s secrets.

  She got up off the couch. “Fuck. Why am I telling you this?”

  “Because I’m here,” I said. “Because I’m a good listener?”

  She snorted. “You are the opposite of a good listener, Silas.”

  “Hey, you don’t even know me,” I said. “You’re basing all of your information on that one night when we hung out. You give me a chance, I might surprise you.”

  She cocked her head at me. “Okay, fine. I’ll give you a chance. Let’s be friends, Silas.” She offered me her hand.

  I took it. “You know, friends was not exactly what I had in mind.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Hot, sweaty sex, of course.”

  She pulled her hand away. “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “No,” I said.

  She sighed, going around me and into the kitchen.

  I followed her. “Hey, I was joking. Mostly, I mean. You are wicked hot, and I can’t be around you without thinking nasty thoughts, but I didn’t mean that I didn’t want to be friends.”

  She looked up from the refrigerator. “You know that there’s all the stuff for Irish car bombs in here?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”

  “I do say,” she said, pulling two bottles of Guinness out of the refrigerator. “If I make them, will you drink one?”

  “Of course.” I leaned against the counter, watching her get two glasses out of the cupboard.

  She looked up at me. “Look, Silas, you gotta trust me when I say I’m no good at repeat sex, okay? It’s better if we just let it go.”

  I swallowed. “I don’t know if I can.”

  She set down the glasses on the counter. She was several feet down from me. So close.

  I went to her. “I keep thinking about you. I think about you a lot.”

  “It’s only because you’ve been seeing me a lot.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” I touched her chin, turning her face up to me. “I think…”

  I kissed her.

  She opened her mouth to me, her body pressing into mine. I folded my arms around her, and she was so small and perfect, like she fit against me.

  I trailed the back of my knuckles over her neck and shoulder.

  And she pushed me away.

  “Damn it. What the fuck is your problem?”

  “I…”

  “I’m not cool with that, okay?” She backed away from me. “You don’t get to kiss me out of nowhere. Fucking way out-of-line aggressiveness.” Her nostrils flared. She was shaking. “I think you need to leave.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  I woke up in the darkness, and I didn’t know where I was.

  I’d been dreaming. The awful dream about Sylvia. The awful dream where she screamed.

  At first I thought I’d woken up with Sylvia, in her soft, warm bed, and I panicked, because I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep with her. The rules were clear on that front. I knew better. But I always wanted to, afterward, with her in my arms. I always wanted to hold her close and relax.

  I felt for her next to me, for her small, sweet body.

  But she wasn’t there.

  I wasn’t with her. I sat up in my bed, blinking until I was sure that I saw the familiar surroundings of my bedroom.

  Not with Sylvia. Dreaming about Sylvia. Sylvia was dead.

  I was drenched in sweat, and I felt clammy and
afraid.

  I hated that dream.

  I shuddered.

  But it was wrong somehow. It wasn’t the same dream. Because…

  Because it hadn’t been Sylvia this time.

  It had been Christa.

  Rolf stalking over to her as she crawled away from him, her body already broken and bleeding.

  She was begging him, pleading for him to stop. Tears were streaming down her face.

  And he didn’t care.

  He shot her and shot her and shot her. Her body dancing as the bullets riddled it.

  It was my fault. He’d never have done it if it hadn’t been for me. I’d made him hate her, and he had to hurt her after he knew.

  But she’d been stupid, playing the kinds of games she played with a man like that. She should never have tested him the way she did. It was her fault too. She was the one who’d started all of it with me. She had a choice. She didn’t have to be with me.

  But, no, it had been Christa, not Sylvia.

  Why had I dreamed about Christa that way?

  There was no way that Rolf would ever hurt her. Absolutely no way. He didn’t even know she existed. He thought I was dead. He’d seen me go out a window seven stories up. He hadn’t been able to follow Sloane’s car.

  We were safe.

  It seemed cold it my room.

  But my shirt stuck to my back with sweat.

  I got up and went to the dresser. In the top drawer, I’d stashed a gun and some bullets. Methodically, I loaded the gun.

  We were safe. Sloane was safe. I was safe.

  Christa was…

  Christa was with Griffin and Leigh. She was fine. Wasn’t she?

  Shit.

  I set the gun down and stripped off my sweaty pajamas. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I slid the gun into the waist of my jeans, right at the small of my back. I put a lock-picking kit in my front pocket. I didn’t know if I’d need it, but I might.

  I did a quick perimeter check, making sure that none of the windows or the doors to the house had been breached.

  I checked Sloane to make sure that she was okay.

  She was sleeping on her stomach in her bedroom, one of her arms dangling off the bed.

  I made sure that she had a gun in her room. I loaded it for her, and I left it right next to her bed, so that if she needed it, it would be right there.

  And then I got in my car, and I drove back to Griffin’s and Leigh’s apartment.

  I was being an idiot. I knew that.

  I was overreacting. There was no reason to think that Christa wasn’t safe.

  But I wasn’t going to be able to sleep unless I made sure.

  The parking lot was dark and silent. All the cars seemed to stare at me with their blank headlights. I darted past them like a hurried thief, moving through the night quickly and silently.

  The apartment was on the second floor. There was a set of outdoor steps. They were made of concrete, and they’d been painted green. But the paint was peeling away, and I could see that before they were green, they were once blue.

  I took the steps as quickly as I could without making noise. I crept up them. I didn’t want anyone at the top to know that I was coming.

  If there was anyone there.

  Which there wasn’t.

  There couldn’t be.

  I made it to the front door of the apartment without seeing a soul.

  The door was locked.

  That was a good sign, right? Rolf wouldn’t have broken in and locked the door behind himself, would he?

  I thought about knocking, waking them up in there.

  But if I was wrong, if Rolf was inside, then knocking would alert him to my presence.

  So I picked the lock instead, doing it as slowly, carefully, and quietly as I could.

  When I was done, the door swung open slowly. I needed to talk to Griffin about getting a deadbolt for his door. It was far too easy to get inside.

  Inside the apartment, it was silent and still. There was nothing but shadows there.

  I tiptoed inside, gently shutting the door. I drew my gun.

  I checked in the closets.

  I checked the bathroom.

  I looked in on Griffin and Leigh, who were both asleep together. They were spooning. Griffin’s arms closed protectively around Leigh.

  I swallowed, thinking that I’d feel better if I could sleep that way with Christa. I wouldn’t have to worry about whether she was okay if I was there. I could protect her.

  Christa.

  She was asleep on the couch, clutching the covers tight around her chin.

  I knelt next to her.

  She was safe.

  She made a soft noise in her sleep, shifting slightly on the couch.

  She was beautiful. And she was safe. Safe.

  * * *

  “Why did I wake up to find a gun loaded on my bedside table, Silas?” Sloane was eating cereal at the kitchen table. It was late morning, but it was Friday, and she didn’t have any classes on Friday. I, on the other hand, had one in about an hour and a half.

  “I put it there,” I said, getting a banana out of the hanging basket.

  “In the middle of the night?”

  I sat down at the table. “Maybe.”

  “You had a dream, didn’t you?” Her voice was sharp.

  I started to peel the banana. “What does it matter?”

  She set down her spoon. “You know why it matters.”

  I’d gone through a faze where the dreams had gotten pretty bad. It had been a few years ago, back when we were still working for Op Wraith. I’d gone a little nuts, and Sloane had to cover for me. She’d been worried that if the people running Op Wraith found out I was so unglued, they’d just order a hit on both of us. We were a package deal after all, and if one of us were damaged, we were both useless. Op Wraith didn’t much go in for repairing damaged assets. It used people until they couldn’t be used anymore. And then it got one of its other assets to terminate the damaged ones.

  “It’s not the same,” I said, taking a bite of the banana. “We’re not under French’s thumb anymore. We’re okay.”

  She looked worried. “Last time, you lost your shit.”

  “I’m not like that now.” But I wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  “So, you just got up last night and made sure I had a loaded gun and then you went back to bed?”

  “Pretty much.” I ate more of the banana.

  “You’re lying to me,” she said. “What aren’t you telling me? What else did you do?”

  I studied the wood grain on the table. “I might have… broken into Griffin’s place to check on Christa. In my dream, Rolf was killing her, and I couldn’t shake the image, and I just needed—”

  “Silas!”

  My shoulders slumped.

  “Did you bring a gun with you?”

  “Well, yeah, if Rolf had been there—”

  “Why would you think he was there? Because your dream tipped you off?” Her voice was steadily rising.

  When she put it like that, it sounded completely stupid. “No one saw me. They were all asleep.”

  She sighed. “This is bad, Silas.”

  “It’s not.” I finished the banana. I got out of my chair and went to the trash can, where I deposited the peel. “It’s fine. I promise I’m okay.”

  “Why Christa?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You have feelings for her. You like her.”

  I rubbed my forehead. I didn’t say anything.

  “Jesus, Silas.” Sloane went back to her cereal. “Well, she’s not going to be your girlfriend if you’re all paranoid and freaky, so you’ve got to get over it, okay?”

  “I don’t want her to be my girlfriend,” I said. “I don’t want a girlfriend at all. Girlfriends are just things that make you vulnerable.” But I was already screwed on that point, wasn’t I? Christa pushed me away, telling me she wasn’t into kissing me, and I was still so freaking worried about her safety th
at I had to drive across town in the middle of the night to make sure she was okay. God damn it. I was screwed. How the hell had this happened to me?

  “I make you vulnerable,” said Sloane. “Don’t I?”

  “You can handle yourself.”

  “Right, that’s why you make sure that I’m always the sniper. Because you’re sure I could handle myself if I fought hand to hand.”

  I sighed. “Look, this is all because of Rolf. If I would have killed him, I wouldn’t be feeling this way. I need to find him. If I find him and I take him out, then all of this will stop. I’ll know that we’re okay.”

  “We are going to do that,” she said. “After the wedding.”

  “What if I can’t wait?”

  “The wedding is tomorrow. You can wait.”

  “Is it?” I was disoriented. I hadn’t been keeping track of the days. That wasn’t a good sign.

  She nodded.

  “Oh,” I said. “Well, then, Christa will be leaving soon, won’t she?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Good. That’ll be better.” I started out of the kitchen.

  “Silas, some serious shit is going down with you, and you need to stop shutting me out.”

  I kept going.

  Sloane caught up with me on the steps. She got in front of me. She was yelling. “Look at me.”

  I wouldn’t.

  “You can’t just act like you don’t care about anything, you know.”

  “Maybe I don’t care.”

  “You’ve been like this ever since we did it,” she said. “That’s what broke you.”

  I knew what she meant by “it.” She never talked about it. Hell, I didn’t like to talk about it either. When I thought about it, it was all red spatters and screams and the metallic smell of blood.

  “If I could have helped you,” she said. “If I hadn’t wimped out—”

  I grabbed her by the shoulders, cutting off her voice. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done now.”

  “It does matter,” her voice was a whisper. “You’ve never been the same.”

  I grimaced. “Well, neither have you.” I let go of her and started up the steps.

  “Silas—”

  I looked down at her. “You know that it’s always bothered you more than it bothered me. That’s why it made more sense for me to do it. I don’t blame you for not helping. I never have, and I never will. Please don’t think that…” I shook my head.