Far Too Young To Die: An Astraea Renata Novel

by Wayne, Douglas

  “As you can imagine, it’s not every day you get a call about a homeless woman walking in the city in the middle of the day. At least this close to the city. Let me ask you a question,” he leaned back against the metal fence separating the front seat from the back. “Are you on drugs?”

  I snickered. Normally my answer to the question is a resounding no, but for the first time in my life, I found myself reaching for the other answer. “Not usually, but I ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Miss, you realize how dangerous that is? I could’ve just as easily been called to investigate a murder.”

  “I’m fully aware,” I said, trying to tone down the lecture that would be coming on full force. I did, but thankfully it didn’t last long and basically consisted of the advice doled out as a public service announcement that come on at least once during a TV show.

  “If you’d like, I can give you a ride to the hospital.”

  “How about back to Atlanta?” I suggested, more as a joke than as an actual question.

  “I can after my shift. But I should warn you. I just clocked in about an hour ago. Something tells me you’d rather find another way home than to wait on me.”

  I nodded. “Can you call me a cab? My phone was in my purse too.”

  “I’ll do something better.” He started the car and drove off. We took what looked to be a scenic tour of downtown Augusta until he pulled into a parking lot full of taxis. He stopped his car at the front of the one story brick building and got out after telling me he’d be right back. A few minutes later, he walked out of the car with a young olive skinned man holding a set of keys. The officer opened my door and offered his hand to help me out.

  “This gentleman will give you a ride back home.”

  “Thank you, officer. I really appreciate the help.”

  “Just do me one favor,” he said, leaning in close to whisper so only I could hear it. “Stay away from whatever caused you to end up like this. A pretty woman like you doesn’t deserve what might happen next time.”

  “I promise you, officer. There won’t be a next time.”

  Part of me desperately wanted to fill him in on the true reason I found myself in this predicament, but I felt that doing so might jeopardize everything with Aiden. Not just that, other than whatever secrets he had already spilled, the only thing I had was the location of one of the houses and their willingness to inject something into a woman they had never seen before. Nothing about either of those facts gets me any closer to finding out why those people wanted Aiden dead.

  The officer handed me a business card and looked me in the eye. “If you find yourself in another jam, don’t hesitate to call. I know people on the force in Atlanta who owe me a few favors.”

  I smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He led me to the cab which was now running a few spots away in the parking lot. When we got to the car, he opened the door and helped me inside and said, “the ride is on me.”

  “You don’t have to, I can pay him when we get to my house.”

  “It’s my pleasure, just take care of yourself.”

  I nodded, and he shut the door and walked away.

  “Where are we going, miss?” the driver asked, taking me out of my daze. I gave him my address, which he promptly put into his GPS before taking off. He attempted to start small talk with me a few times on the trip, but with few exceptions I stared out the window while trying to figure out what to say to Greg.

  Yesterday I promised him I would be in right after I did what I had to do. I didn’t tell him what I was going to do, otherwise he might have been against it more than he already was. Even worse was that I put Molly in a bad spot, fully knowing she wasn’t capable of handling one of Olson’s normal nights.

  Confounding that further was that I left Aiden with him and promised him he’d be gone in the morning. I did that believing that I could talk him into extending it a few days while we closed down the bar overnight. Even though he wasn’t happy with letting him stay to begin with, I have a way of convincing him to do whatever I want. Not that I like to use it, but keeping Aiden hidden for a few more days was worth it.

  The timer on the driver’s dashboard flashed three thirteen when we pulled up in front of my house. Amazingly my car was sitting in the driveway, parked like I’d pulled it in the night before. It wouldn’t have been hard to believe, except I knew for sure I’d left the car a block or so from the drug house. Was that the type of neighborhood where they’d tow your car for being parked on the street for too long?

  That couldn’t be the case. If someone had it towed, it would’ve been taken to an impound lot somewhere, not back in my driveway and parked in a way looking like I’d parked it there myself.

  I thanked the driver for the ride and walked around the back of my house to grab my spare key from under the rubber mat on my back porch. To this day, I’d never actually had to grab it. It was here more to allow Greg to get inside if he needed to for some reason than because I might have actually lost my keys. It was so ironic that I found myself waiting for the cab driver to pull off before making the shameful trip back up front to unlock the door.

  Once inside, I found my purse placed on the lamp stand next to the door. The same spot I always placed it when I walked inside. What had I done last night? The last thing I remember was the needle being pulled out of my arm, but was it possible I was able to not only leave the house, but drive my car home. But if I’d done that, how did I end up in an alleyway in Augusta instead of in my own comfortable bed. Something wasn’t adding up, but it was impossible to find out what.

  I placed my spare key on the stand next to my purse, then pulled out my phone inside and turned it on. But before I flicked the phone on, my eyes focused on the date and my mind came up with an even better question.

  What did those guys give me that made me not only wake up in a strange spot, but completely lose a whole week?

  - 12 -

  As shocked as I was to find out I’d been out of it for a week, I took the time to clean up before planning my next move. There was something about the layer of dirt all over my body, not to mention the dark, thick buildup around some areas of my body, that made me put showering as the number one priority.

  I felt relief course through me as the hot water hit my skin, washing the layer of filth down the drain, making my shower floor look more like a riverbank than the white porcelain it was until I had every last ounce of dirt off my body.

  After I got dressed, I sat down on the couch and gave Greg a call. I knew, out of everyone else I knew, he deserved to hear from me first. But something kept me from dialing the number. Perhaps it was the threat of a long lecture from him about going into strange houses late at night, or maybe one about leaving a guy at his house that neither of us really knew. More than likely, I knew it would probably end up being worry filled sob-fest, where I’d end up apologizing even though I’d done nothing wrong.

  After ten minutes of working through most of the conversations in my head, I pulled up his name and dialed. He answered on the first ring.

  “Ast? You’re alive!” He said the words like he almost expected me not to be. I guess it was warranted after my missing streak. It was odd, but the sound of his voice comforted me, even if it was worried.

  “And I have the headache to prove it,” I said sarcastically. “Things been OK at the pub?”

  “We’ve been getting by. Molly is picking up speed. After doing your job for the last week, she might not want to step down.”

  “Good,” I said. “We’ve been talking about hiring someone else for the busy nights anyway. Maybe we can just bring her on full time.”

  “What about you?” he said, changing the subject. “Where have you been for the last week? I’ve been so worried.”

  “No idea. Last thing I remember is being in some house in Atlanta before waking up today in Augusta.” I left out the part about the alley, knowing he was worried enough without that little fact.
>
  “What the hell happened?”

  “I don’t know. If I did, I’d tell you. But I don’t have a clue.” I had a clue, a big one that came in the shape of a large syringe filled with a concoction based upon the mystery purple power in a little wooden box. But how could I explain to him I’d let two complete strangers inject shit into my arm without so much as a fight when I didn’t have the answer for myself.

  “Did they do…” He got quiet for a moment. “Things to you?”

  “I don’t think so. Those parts didn’t feel out of whack.” I wasn’t quite sure how to explain the feeling to him and hoped that would be enough. But as worried as he was, I had to know about Aiden. I needed to know if he’d kicked him out of the house the next morning, like he’d promised. “Is Aiden still at your house?”

  “No. He left the next morning to look for you.”

  “You didn’t kick him out, did you?” I said in my best, threatening voice. But it came out sounding more like a mousy squeak than my normal feline growl.

  “No. After he cleaned the house, I kinda let everything else slide.”

  “He cleaned your house?” I said in surprise. I knew Aiden felt bad about staying with him, even just for one night, but I didn’t expect the guy to go full on butler and clean the place. Though it did totally need it.

  “The whole thing. You didn’t put him up to it, did you? Cause it worked.”

  “Wasn’t my idea, but I’ll remember it next time.”

  “There won’t be a next time, Ast. This was the last.”

  I snorted quietly. That’s what he thinks. “When he left, did he leave anything of his there? Like his phone or wallet?”

  “His socks,” he said quickly. “He borrowed a pair of mine and threw his in the wash.”

  “Do you still have them?”

  “Yeah, Ast. And before you ask, they didn’t get washed. I stopped the cycle the moment he stepped outside. They got a little wet, but there should be enough on them for you to work with.” By enough on them, he was referring to sweat or blood. Both are vital components in a tracking spell, which I could use to find him later.

  “Keep them as dry as you can, I’ll be right over.”

  “Slow down, hon. You just showed up out nowhere after being missing for a week. Are you in a hurry for that to happen again. Or for them to do something else to you?”

  “I have to find him, Greg. He went out to find me. Whoever it was probably has him now.” Aiden only risked his life to find me because I promised him I could handle myself. That promise went right out the window when I failed to get to work by the end of my shift. Wherever he was, he was there because of me. And because of that, I had to find and save him, wherever he might be.

  “He’s probably already dead.”

  My heart sank hearing the words, but it was the truth. I’d been gone for seven days, and he’d been gone for six. If they’d sent a group of thugs to take him out the night after they tried to take him out in the car accident, odds were that he was long dead if he’d went to them. In any case, I’d be able to tell once I had the socks. “Then I’ll be able to lead the cops to his body. Nobody deserves to rot in a field all alone.”

  “I just ordered Chinese,” he said with a deep sigh. “You want the usual?”

  “You know me,” I said, rushing to put on my shoes.

  “Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  I wasn’t in the mood for the argument of our lives. The one where I’m rash and compulsive and only think about myself. Especially since I wasn’t thinking about me at all.

  “I’ll be right over.”

  I put on a pair of sneakers, grabbed my purse and walked outside. Before heading over to Greg’s I replaced the spare key, just in case something like this happened again. I didn’t expect to get into that type of trouble again, but to be fair, I didn’t expect it to happen in the first place.

  Yet I had a nagging suspicion I’d need it again before this was all over.

  - 13 -

  I pulled into Greg’s driveway about two seconds after the Chinese Palace delivery driver pulled out. Greg was standing on the porch, holding two leaking paper bags while I got out and gave him a hand.

  “They really need to improve their carryout packaging,” I took the smaller, less soggy bag from him and opened the door.

  “Or just make it less greasy,” he quipped as he walked past.

  “No grease and no gluten means it’s no good. That’s what I always say.”

  “It’s a wonder you don’t have the body of a Japanese sumo wrestler with a motto like that.” I fully agreed with the statement, yet kept it to myself.

  I followed Greg inside and nearly dropped the food when I noticed the house was still immaculate. Either he’d decided he was man enough to start doing his own housework, or he’d had to spent a lot of extra time at the pub to make up for my absence. I suspected the latter, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been spurred by Aiden.

  Greg had been like that for as long as I’d known him and it only got worse when we dated for a few months in senior year. To be honest, except for the dirty looks when I so much as looked at another guy, the whole experience was really pleasant. It started out rather innocently, almost looking like he was just standing up for himself and defending what was his. But after the first month it spiraled way out of control. I finally broke it all off when he threatened to kill Steven Brooks, who I’d been paired up with to do a science report. Protective and caring is one thing, angry and vindictive is something totally different.

  After that, we stopped talking to each other for about three months. If it wasn’t for graduation, I’m not sure we’d be talking today. I took it slow the next few months, stopping in once every couple of weeks just to say hi. By the following winter we were back to normal.

  Well, as normal as you could after being that close for a few months.

  Greg walked to the coffee table and placed his leaky bag in the center. I cringed knowing that’s how it all starts. But, to my amazement, he brought in a pair of plates and forks and a handful of paper towels to clean up the mess.

  I know he freaked out because he was worried about me, but two minutes inside his house and I was about to call the cops. This is not the Gregory I’d spent every day of the last few years of my life with at the pub. He was many things, but clean definitely wasn’t one of them. I waited to ask him about it until my plate had a heaping pile of white rice completely smothered with my whole order of General Tso’s chicken.

  “So what’s with the house?” I asked before shoveling a heaping spoonful into my mouth. When he didn’t answer right away, I shoved the food into my cheek and said, “It looks good and all, but it’s not you.”

  “I’m not allowed to keep it clean?” he said, after swallowing.

  “No,” I said, but immediately regretted it. “I mean, you can. It’s just… unexpected.”

  “So you don’t like it?”

  I sighed. “I think it looks good.”

  “Just good?” He raised an eyebrow at me, like he was fishing for a better compliment.

  “Yes,” I quipped. I knew the opening line of that argument from a mile away. It was becoming clear he’d done this more to impress me than to stop living like a slob. Not that I had a problem with that, just as long as he understood that I wasn’t going back. No amount of cleaning, or free Chinese food could ever get me to do that.

  He slammed his fork on his plate and walked out of the room. I thought about saying something to stop him, but he was gone before I could force the words out of my mouth. He came back in a minute later and threw the dirty, yet dry sock on the floor next to me.

  “There’s your boyfriend’s sock.”

  “He’s not my…” I bit my lip to keep me from saying something I’d regret later. I almost yearned for the days when our relationship was much more simple. When I could just up and disappear for a few weeks to let him cool off. Now that we both co-owned and worked at the same place, t
he ability to walk away no longer existed. No matter how bad the arguments get, I still have to push it aside unless I want the business to suffer.

  In hindsight, buying the pub was the worst thing we could’ve ever done together, but even with the steady stream of one-sided arguments, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

  “We need to talk,” I said after securing the sock in my lap.

  “Yeah, we do.” He plopped down on his couch so hard, I half expected it to break under the force of his ass.

  “This whole jealousy thing needs to stop. I know you hold onto that slim chance that whatever spark I saw in you senior year will resurface and cause me to fall madly in love with you again. But those days are over.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m tired of you throwing all your boyfriends in my face.”

  “First of all,” I said, now wagging my finger just inches away from his nose. “Aiden and I are not an item. Second, if you are talking about Mason, it was your idea for him to come to the bar.”

  “You still didn’t have to bring him.”

  “I told him to stay at home. You called him and told him to show up. Just so you could make him throw up all over the bar.”

  He held a finger to his mouth, trying to hold in the laugh his face begged to let out.

  “See. It’s that reaction that made me glad I walked away. Even when I try to do the right thing, you force the situation on yourself and make it worse. You aren’t fooling anyone.”

  “Either are you. I know all about you and Aiden. You fell for him the moment you saw him.”

  I’ll admit, he was cute, but I’m not the kind of gal who could be swayed by only good looks. I’m not so shallow as to say they aren’t at least kinda important, but it’s not the main trait I look for. Give me a man who goes out of his way to make you feel important. One willing to put his life on hold, just to make mine feel just a little more special. Most importantly, I look for trust. After dating Greg that’s become the hardest thing for potential suitors to earn. I’ll take the average looking guy who gives me a compliment and sits quietly in the corner over a room full of hunks who spend the night putting each other down every day of the week.