by Kate Kelley
An exasperated sigh sounded on the other end of the line. Joann was not happy with me. But when had she ever been?
“Rai, I understand the difficulty you are going through at this time, but we’ve already given you an extension and really can’t do another two weeks.”
Despair pooled in my belly. “Let me talk to my boss and see what I can do. I am starting work back up tomorrow. The destroyed parts of the inn are cleaned and remodeled, now. I’m grateful to have gotten out with my life…” I let the words linger, trying to manipulate my way into another rent extension.
“Mmhmm. Call me when you get in touch with him. Bye now.” Joann hung up. She hadn’t sounded impressed. I tossed the flip phone onto the old, green carpet and fell into the couch, burying my head. I had checked my bank account and I had exactly one hundred dollars in my checking account. That meant that I could probably eat for the next few months--beans, rice, potatoes. That was fine. That didn’t bother me.
But I wouldn’t have enough for rent, for electric, for water, for trash payments, for phone payments, for gas…
An angry tear escaped my eye but I wiped it away quickly. Some people were in worse situations than this, and they survived. I could do this. I started work again tonight. Row had called this morning to tell me I was working the first reopening night. It’d been two weeks since the fire and I still didn’t know what to think about any of it. Wolfram, shirtless, the face caress, the bright copper eyes.
God, maybe I should get myself checked into a mental facility. Except, that would cost money.
I sat up, suddenly on fire.
Not literally, no. But my skin surged, feeling like it would explode from the heat that built underneath.
I suspected it was either a symptom of anxiety or early menopause.
I pushed up the window and stuck my head out, sucking in the sweet, below freezing air. The screen lay on the grass below me, having been punched out the first time this heat flash came over me. I admit, I’d been a bit aggressive.
I welcomed the wind on my skin like a cool bath after a marathon, every brush of wind against my face and neck like a lover’s touch. I sighed, rather loudly.
When Mr. Tuba’s face appeared from the patio below me, his face a red circle, tucked into his hood as he craned his neck to see what the noise was coming from, I slunk back into my den, but left the window open. It was like I couldn’t get cool enough, but a cold bath didn’t sound appealing--just the wind. At least I could save money on heating.
The grandfather clock chimed six o clock. I stared at it as my stomach flipped. My shift was in thirty minutes--it was time to go.
I walked, welcoming the air. Twice a concerned citizen had stopped and asked if I needed a lift. When I explained that I was happy to walk to work, they eyed my cardigan and leggings like I was either homeless or crazy. Honestly, the chance that I was crazy was getting pretty high.
By the time I walked into the inn, the smell of new wood and paint greeting me, my thirst for cool air had been mostly quenched and I was much calmer. No one was behind the front desk waiting to switch shifts with me, since I was the first to work after the fire, as fate would have it. I peeked around the corner and down the hallway. A brand new crimson rug ran down the length of it, brilliant in its rich color. A flashback of black smoke snaking its way down the corridor made me stumble back, and the heat inside of me flashed again.
Damn it!
I crossed to a window and tugged it open, and the one next to it, hoping I could get away with it as long as no guests were here. When they came, I would have to put them back down. The windows didn’t have screens, so I pushed my head out and lifted my hair from the back of my neck. Feathery, slow-falling snowflakes rained down on my skin, kissing it clean.
Sweat beaded my forehead. I peeled off my black cardigan, my sleeveless tunic and leggings beginning to cling to my damp skin. I wiggled my toes inside my boots, wishing I could strip them off.
Okay, maybe I was ill. I thought about calling Row to get the night off, but thought better of it.
I couldn’t afford to be sick.
The bell jangled and I turned my head in time to see Wolfram entering the inn with Row following closely behind. I immediately went to slam the windows down when I stopped. A large, dove-white moth sat on my hand, it’s wings shimmering like pearl, its body fuzzy like a short-haired cat. It was big enough to encompass the entire backside of my hand. It wiggled its antennas and I shook my hand. It flew off and away, blending into the snowflakes. I closed the window the rest of the way and pushed my heavy hair off of my shoulders, turning to face the men. Wolfram revealed nothing in his expression.
Row reared back, his lip curling. “Were you working out in here? It’s fucking freezing. Why are you sweating?”
I swallowed. “Yes. I was. Trying to get fit.”
Row grunted and eyed my hips. “Best idea you’ve ever had.”
I glared at him, mentally flashing him a rude gesture.
Row rounded the front desk and sat down, clicking through on the computer. Wolfram watched me from the other side of the foyer, his eyes doing nothing to cool my heat flash. He eyed me from head to toe in a slow perusal. I shifted my stance and crossed to the front desk. “I need to clock in,” I told Row.
Row snickered and then sniffed without glancing at me. Something cold passed over my neck.
“Come to the break room, Miss Peterson,” Wolfram’s deep voice sounded close behind me.
Shit, what was I in trouble for now?
I walked stiffly there and plopped into a chair, and Wolfram sat on the opposite side. I fanned myself.
When Wolfram’s gaze settled on me, he searched my face, his nostrils flaring slightly. “Are you okay? You look quite flushed.”
“I’m fine,” I said tightly, clasping my sweaty hands underneath the table.
Wolfram cleared his throat and averted his gaze, eyeing my throat. “The fire destroyed rooms twelve and thirteen and the downstairs corridor, but firefighters were able to quelch it before it destroyed anything else.”
That didn’t make any sense, but I stared ahead, listening to where the story was going.
“Luckily, the surveillance cameras were unharmed and I had a chance to review them, to see if it would clue us in on where the fire started.”
“Okay,” I said. Why did I feel like I wouldn’t like where this was going?
“Upon reviewing the video, I came upon a video of you spying on the couple in room thirteen. You were found peering into the door viewer. That is in direct violation of--”
I scoffed. “I--you’ve got to be kidding me. I thought someone was in trouble! Like, being harmed or something. I just wanted to make sure they were okay--”
“Whatever your motive, you infringed on a guest’s privacy. I do not tolerate that at my establishment. I am letting you go, Miss Peterson.”
I sat, dumbstruck. Then the ball of heat inside of me reared up again and washed me out in a new wave of cold sweat.
“I have two warnings left. Take those two away, and I promise I won’t--”
Wolfram pierced me with those black eyes and a flashback played in my head to when they glowed bright copper in the light of the fire.
“It isn’t up for negotiation. Take your things and leave.”
A inhaled sharply and stared at the table, despair raining down on me, drowning me. A bead of sweat rolled down my temple.
Wolfram stood and made for the door.
“Did you find out how the fire started?” My voice came out of nowhere, surprising us both and stopping him in his tracks. He didn’t turn around, shaking his head once.
Chapter Six
“I thought I’d already explained this to you. We cannot offer another extension on your rent--”
“Who can I talk to? I just need a little more time to find a job.”
Joann’s face dripped of pity and exasperation. “Did you try some fast food places? I know it isn’t glamorous, but it’s work.”
“I applied to all the local fast food places. Every single one of them turned me down for being overqualified.”
Joann looked down, clicking her pen on her desk as she chewed her lip. “Listen, I can give you the address of the owner of the building. He sometimes shows sympathy to our less fortunate residents.”
Hope reared up as she scribbled down something and tore it off the corner of her paper, handing it over.
“Thank you so much!”
“Go now. He should be in the office for another hour.”
I glanced at the address. It was close to the inn, about a thirty minute walk from the leasing office.
I walked at a brisk pace all the way there, welcoming the air on my skin, the only thing that kept me calm.
The office was a block down from the inn, an utterly modern building made of what looked like steel, the roof slanted in an unusual way. I approached the metal door and tried to open it but it wouldn’t budge.
I was too late.
I hung my head when I noticed a small button on the left. I pressed it and something buzzed, a camera in the corner moving to focus on me. A second later the door unlocked with a resounding click and opened slowly by itself.
Geeze, a bit much.
I entered a clean, minimalist waiting room, streamlined chairs lined the wall. There was a desk, but no receptionist sat behind it.
What was I supposed to do? I walked tentatively down the corridor, my boots thudding against the marble floor. The silence was heavy. At the end of the hallway, another metal door caught my attention. I knocked on it, the noise ringing through the empty place. Finally, the door opened by itself and I entered slowly, peering around like Alice in Wonderland.
The room was much warmer and more inviting than the rest of the building, as if it was misplaced and didn’t belong. It had an old quality to it, mahogany shelves lining the walls filled from floor to ceiling with leather-bound volumes. Around the shelved wall was a corner to the left. I passed through and stopped.
A large wooden desk sat in the space, a man sitting behind it, his eyes piercing me.
I opened my mouth but no words came out. I backed up, ready to bolt out of the door.
“Stop, Miss Peterson.”
I stopped.
“You are not only my boss, but also my landlord. How is that possible?”
Wolfram smiled tightly and gestured for me to sit across from him in a giant leather chair. I did as I was silently told, the leather warm against the back of my thighs. The ball of heat inside of me flared. I wanted to cry.
“Why are you here?” Wolfram looked down at a stack of papers in front of him and began making notes on it as if I wasn’t there. I studied his face. High, sharp cheekbones, wide, distinctly male mouth, dark eyebrows and lashes, stubble covering a strong jaw. His normally loose hair was tied back at the nape of his neck. He was devastatingly handsome, but that was neither here nor there. He had complete control over my life. My landlord and my boss. The fuck kind of nightmare was I living in?
His deep voice startled me out of my thoughts.
“How is it that you’ve come to work at my establishment and also live in my tenements?”
I laughed, a mirthless thing. “I’m asking the same question.”
He looked up abruptly, piercing me with the black voids sparkling with something close to wrath, though I couldn’t fathom why.
“Why are you here?” His voice was ice cold and I almost shivered, despite the fever that enveloped me.
I took a deep breath and matched his gaze. “I came to ask for an extension on my rent. I don’t have enough for the month’s rent. Not until I find another job. Joann said that I could speak to you about it.”
Wolfram raised an eyebrow as if mocking me, a smirk twisting his lips. The ball of heat inside of me flared again, seeking a way out. My nostrils flared as anger riled up inside of me.
He searched my face, his expression turning flat. “See your way out.”
“Wait. What are you--”
“You do not get an extension. Leave.” He returned to his work.
I stood abruptly, my fury making it difficult to breathe. “You know what? Fuck you!”
He didn’t react to my words.
I snatched the paper from underneath his pen and ripped it in half. It was like watching myself from the outside.
He stilled, his pen poised in his hand. He set it down mechanically and stood up, drawing himself to full height, which had to have been six foot five. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned in, his eyes boring into mine. “What did you just say to me?”
I leaned in, inches away, mirroring his pose. “I said. Fuck. You. And your creepy, fire-obsessed ass. I bet you start the fires yourself, don’t you? Yeah, I can see that you’re probably some kind of sick fuck like that.”
Wolfram reached out toward me with a growl, and I thought he might grab my throat, but he withdrew it slowly, his lip curling again. I almost wished he had so I had something on him. He was destroying my life slice by slice and I wanted to see him taken down a notch.
I continued, pushing away from the desk and pacing. “It doesn’t even make sense that you can go in there without any gear.” I shook my head. “There’s some freaky shit going on. That, and the ghost shapes that attacked me in your haunted inn, and the old guy who threatened to kill me with fire, you’re whole life and everything going on is creepy as hell and I don’t want anything to do with you anyway!”
I stormed out, running, sweat dripping down my back. When I finally got outside, I didn’t slow down. I ran down the street, the wind almost carrying me. I imagined I was flying, lifted in the air and free from the prison of the world’s demons, my own demons.
I walked to my apartment, stopping on the outside of the building. The thought of going back in made me sick. There was nothing I cherished there, nothing I needed. I thought about the grandfather clock, the gift from my father when I went to college. It meant nothing to me. I kept walking, thinking of what had led me to where I was in life.
I must have walked for hours, weaving in and out of neighborhoods and streets, when Christmas lights began sparkling and the moon appeared in the sky, the world turning dark around the soft glow.
I stopped at the edge of the town, the sign that read ‘Welcome to Emerald, the small town full of big hearts!’ I scoffed. I hadn’t met very many people with big hearts since I got here. Maybe this was rock bottom, and the only way forward from here was up.
I felt for my phone in my back pocket and flipped it open, scrolling through until I found my dad’s number. I stared at the digits on the screen, dreading hearing his voice.
It had always been just me and my dad. I hadn’t known he was different until I saw my school friend’s fathers at drop off, the warmth they showed their kids. I didn’t know fathers were supposed to hug their kids, tell them they loved them. I’d never known physical or verbal affection from him. He was always pushing me to do better, and I never seemed to be able to do well enough, in school, at home. As the CEO of a hospital, he was rich, to be sure. Work was his life. Anything else was extra, fell by the wayside. I never understood why he had adopted me and part of me wondered if my life would have been better if I’d just been an orphan. I’d be poor, sure, but at least I might have known love.
Maybe that was why as soon as I went to college, I found Evan and took his abuses love. He was never physically abusive, but verbally, emotionally. I wasn’t allowed to have friends outside of work, wasn’t allowed to go places by myself outside of work. I hadn’t realized it was abuse then, either. I thought it meant he loved me.
If I asked my father for help now, he would never let me forget it.
He was probably still angry with me for breaking things off with Evan, for ruining my chance at a good future. He had left me several voicemails stating the fact. How he knew was a mystery to me. Evan probably ran to him like a little boy snitching on me for breaking up with him.
My thumb
hovered over the call button a moment longer before I clicked it, and slowly raised it to my ear. The phone rang and rang, until finally, a clipped voice sounded on the other side. “Rai, hello. You finally decided to return my call.”
My voice froze.
Suddenly I was blinded by a car, its headlights blocking my view of everything else. It stopped two feet from me and the door opened. Wolfram stepped out and leaned his arms over the top of the door.
“Rai, hello? I don’t have all night--” My dad’s voice echoed on the line. I hung up and pocketed the phone.
“I thought a black car had been following me all evening. It was you, wasn’t it?”
Wolfram stepped around and closed the door, then approached me. He stopped a couple feet away, the moonlight glinting off of his strange eyes.
“Is this the part where you murder me and hide my body in the sewer?”
Wolfram searched my face. “Come with me. We need to talk.”
I scoffed. “Like hell I’m getting into your car--!”
He grabbed me before I could react, hoisting me over his shoulder as if I weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. He deposited me in the passenger seat and locked the door before I could scream. I unlocked it as soon as he peeled down the road.
“Open that door and you’re dead.”
Shock laced my veins. “You really are a murderer.”
He rolled his eyes and drove faster, the street empty. “Who sent you?”
“What?” I watched the road speed underneath me through the window. If I tried to jump, I would die.
“Was it Wildfire? I can’t scent you. How did they manage to cover that up?”
I faced him. “Okay, I have no idea what you are talking about and I need you to pull over so I can get out.”
Wolfram suddenly grabbed my ass and I squealed, squirming away. He somehow had grabbed my phone from my back pocket. He opened the window and tossed it out, the cheap plastic not standing a single chance against the asphalt.
I clutched my stomach, sick. I was going to be murdered by this madman.
Maybe he’d been hired by Evan. Dread swallowed me up.
