by Elle Lincoln
I can’t help but wonder if he knew then and was just subtly trying to tell me something. I shake it off for now as we walk into the stifling white building.
We stroll into a sitting room with thin gray carpet. In front of us, a ramp leads up a level with a white partial wall. To the side, a small sitting room rests with folding chairs and an empty water cooler. Ahead, a door leads to the back of the building, while a small reception desk sits behind a wall with a plexiglass divider. I raise a brow at the emptiness of the room.
Athos pulls me back, past the yellowing walls, to the seventies style wood door. Back here, an air conditioner blasts on high, whirling through the silence as the machine struggles like hell to pump in cool air.
“Fucking Dev was closing up.” Christian stomps past us, rushing ahead, and moments later the airs turns down and the flow of cool air stops.
“Looks more like an office building,” I comment, running my hands along the doors as we pass.
“Because it mainly is an office building,” Nix answers from somewhere behind me.
“Yeah, it’s the dungeons you have to be wary of,” Liam teases, but it doesn’t make me laugh, instead it freaks me out.
“What the hell do you need a dungeon for?” I eye the crappy carpet as though I’ve got X-ray vision and can see below the floor. Newsflash, I can’t. I’m not freaking Superman.
Athos grunts and the others fall silent, but I’m not about to let that one go.
“Seriously, why the hell do you have a dungeon?” My eyes widen as I stop walking. “Is there a silver cage down there?” I poke his chest. “Is that your kryptonite?” Why does that make me feel oddly possessive, like I need to protect him from the silver?
Athos pauses, eyeing me like I’m insane. I’m not. I’m just curious. There is a difference. One is certifiable.
“Do you think we” —he points to me then him— “can get there” —he points to a door at the end of the hall— “without you interrupting once more?”
I glance at Athos, then the door in question, then back to him. I shrug because he looks like his patience is thinning, and I’m getting the feeling he’s trying to do something nice for me. Which feels weird.
We take a few more steps before a different door opens and a man steps out, shoving a hoagie down his throat. Athos lets out a low warning growl as his fingers tighten their hold on me. I squeeze back because it feels like the right thing to do.
The hoagie eating man gradually turns to Athos while Christian steps out of the room ahead. I almost forgot he went in front of us to turn the air off. Behind me, the other men begin to growl.
“So is this where I start taking bets on the dog fight?” I quip, hoping to slice through the tension. It doesn’t. In fact, I think it makes it worse.
Athos shoves me behind him. “Dev, get the fuck out.” I shiver at the pure menace in his voice, and I almost feel bad for the kid.
I peek around Athos’s thick bicep at the poor boy who swallows the portion of hoagie in his mouth, then he chokes. His baby face turns to me, only making the coughing worse. His wild brown eyes turn pleading as he makes the most awful noises.
No one moves.
“Right then, I’ll do the Heimlich.” I step around Athos, only to get yanked back by Nix. “He. Is. Choking.” I wave my hand at the frantic man who dropped the damn hoagie. Italian fixings spray all over the shitty rug.
“Christian?”
“Got it.” Christian slams the kid once on the back before a hunk of roll flies out of his mouth and lands at Athos’s feet. He gazes at it as though it offends him.
“What the hell?” This time I growl and step around him while evading the tugs of Nix and Liam. I smack their hands away before they can try again as I glare at Athos. “He turned blue!”
Athos and his barely contained fury gazes down at me. “It would not have killed him.”
“I didn’t know that!” I wave an arm at myself. “Hello! Human here!”
Liam snorts behind me, and I glare at him before snapping my head back to Athos.
“Only silver can kill us, and I just wanted to get to that door” —he points angrily at the door Christian just walked through— “without interruption. A feat that seems impossible with you!”
I roll my eyes and step over the saliva-soaked piece of bread. I look at this Dev and hold my hand out with a warm smile. Athos steps up and smacks my hand away. He is seriously having a full-blown adult tantrum.
I look at him, then to Dev, then to the other guys. All but Dev wear the expression of a man ready to go into battle. My mind flips to the lack of men outside, then to their demands that I go nowhere alone. Finally, it clicks.
It’s really kind of cute. I smile. “Aw! You care.” I turn and step in front of Athos, drawing his attention. I tentatively reach out to his chest, my palm pressing against where his heart beats. “Athos,” I drawl, “are you worried I’m going to somehow call for another mate?”
He grinds his jaw as he looks down at me. His heavy brows pull low and his hair falls over his shoulders. He doesn’t want to answer me, which is obvious. Still, a smile plays on my lips. Beneath my palm, his heart beats wildly while his eyes hold mine captive.
“You did not.” He reaches out to cup my face and I allow it, even though we have a no touching rule. Sometimes a person just needs touch to feel better about something. I’m also sure that rule became pointless the moment I uttered it.
“No, I’m still conscious.” I smile up at him, almost preening under his attention. “Besides, I have far too many mates as it is.”
Liam steps up beside us. “Doll face, I hate to inform you of this, but—”
Nix yanks him back, throwing him to the floor. I glance around Athos, watching Nix and Liam scowl at each other. It’s the silent ones you have to watch out for. Every damn time.
“You will scare her.” Nix’s chocolate voice drops an octave as he glares.
Liam pops up with a roguish smile. “Most females take on up to ten wolves,” he rushes out all in one sentence.
“Yeah, no, I’ve only got three holes and two hands. I just don’t see how that would even work.” Screw you, word vomit, I do not have time for your bullshit. Dammit. Ignoring their snickers, I turn around and head to the room. Dev mysteriously disappeared, though his hoagie remains scattered on the floor. “Waste of food.” I step around it to join Christian at the door. “Is this how it always is with you four?” I joke.
“Get used to it, doll face.”
His hand stills me while his eyes take on a serious quality. “Sabina.” It’s the first time he’s ever said my name, and my guard instantly goes up.
“What’s in that room, Christian?” My heart pounds wildly in my chest, skipping a beat and leaving a residual pinch.
His eyes flicker to Athos behind me. I don’t wait, I turn to look at him. “What’s in there, Athos?” Why am I so freaked out? Can’t we go back to the last hour where we joked, smiled, and laughed? This serious tone isn’t what I want. I want the flirting and the innuendos and the dildo search.
“Come on.” He slides his hands into mine, dragging me into the room beyond.
Dizziness washes over me as we walk in. Above us, a florescent light buzzes to life, illuminating a rectangular table where a black bag lies. Four chairs sit in each corner while a single chair sits under the table.
They don’t all come in, only Athos. I glance behind me, noticing the others are gone from the doorway before I turn back to Athos. “What is this?”
He runs a hand down his goateed face, his expression full of sorrow and pain. Dark circles shadow under his eyes while his cheeks hollow out. “Sabina, these are the items your dad was wearing when we found him.”
The blood drains from my face, adrenaline surges through my veins, and all the saliva in my mouth dries. I look at that bag, that stupid death bag that sits in the center of the table.
Mocking me. Taunting me. Begging me to take a peek.
My nostrils
flare as the breath rushes from my pain filled lungs. In that moment, I realize only small doses of grief leaked from me before as I gripped it and held it as close as I could. But now, every wall I struggled to erect and build and paste together crumbles. One moment Dad just wasn’t there. He just didn’t exist. All I got were ashes that sit in the truck outside this very building. That was it.
No goodbye.
No hug.
Nothing.
But that stupid bag sitting on the table with the last things he wore that day tears through me, opening every wound that never got a chance to bleed. It finally gushes from me, and I scream.
I just scream at it with all the rage and grief and pain I’ve felt this past month. I scream until my throat becomes raw, until the sobs break free and stutter to a stop. I scream even as sturdy arms surround me and hold me tight in a desperate plea to share in my misery.
Until I have nothing left inside me.
Chapter 13
The chair beneath me chills the skin of my thighs, the cold seeps in, freezing my veins like cracks in ice. My ass fell numb long ago. Time seems to move in reverse in this damn room. No clocks, no windows. Only the sounds of my breathing and the buzz of the florescent bulb above me. Its light pierces my eyes with that white-hot brilliance until an ache begins at the back of my head. I don’t rub the pain away, instead I allow it to fester and ground me.
Outside the door, the guys pace, their footsteps creaking the floorboards below. With shaking hands, I reach for the bottle of water Athos brought me. Dehydration causes me to feel like nothing but a husk.
I cried everything out, leaving nothing behind.
I sip the water, my tongue absorbing the precious liquid before I can even swallow. My eyes, however, stay glued to the bag in front of me.
I’m not brave. The bravest action I ever took was driving out here to accept the cabin my dad willed to me. I grew up in a net of safety and love. I needed nothing, and when I wanted for something, they provided it. My parents didn’t have much, but what they had they easily spent it on me. I didn’t have siblings, but I had cousins who were always around to play with.
Graduating high school with honors didn’t mean much to me, and while my parents were proud, they never once pushed me into the workforce. Neither of them came into their careers until later in life. They were content to support me, to just let me exist.
The pride on their faces the day I graduated college and became a kindergarten teacher is seared into my memory. Then, on the first day of my teaching job, they showed up with a packed lunch and thermos. Dad traveled to the city just to see me off like he did on the first day of school. Although I slowly found my way in the world, if I fell, I knew they were always there to catch me and lift me back up.
Perhaps Christian’s nickname for me is right. I’m nothing more than a damsel in need of a knight. Someone to always come to her rescue.
Yet this isn’t the type of rescue where a knight can rush to his damsel’s aid. This isn’t a light fairy tale, but a story bringing the two worlds together through death. Death that tears one of those worlds apart.
I sip the water again, my legs going tingly and achy from not moving for so damn long. But I can’t find it in me to care. All I feel is a hollow ache inside me.
What will I find? Blood? Gore?
A shiver convulses my body, raising little goosebumps all over me.
“Hey.” The voice tries to pierce the haze as my eyes swallow up that fucking bag. In my peripheral, Nix walks in, grabbing one of the chairs in the corner to sit beside me.
“Hey.” I don’t look at him, I can’t. That black bag demands all of my attention.
“Your dad always humored me.” Brows crinkling, I look to the side, catching Nix’s soft jaw and scruff. His eyes roam over my features, watching me. “We would spend hours talking into the night around a fire—he with his tequila and a smile.”
I lick my parched lips. “What did you talk about?” The words crack with emotion, while the need to understand the friendship drives my question.
“Everything, Sabina.” His genuine smile speaks of adoration for the man who gave me life. “He believed there was so much more to this world that what meets the eye.”
“Is there, Nix?” Again, I lick my split lips, needing the moisture to speak. “Is there more to this world than what meets the eye?”
“Sweet Sabina, there is magic in everything you see, feel, and touch. He always said the greatest magical feat he ever witnessed was you.”
I swallow, my tears once more building behind my eyes. My face contorts as I struggle to keep them at bay. I blow out a breath of stale air before turning back to the bag. “Thank you.” I push as much appreciation into those two words as I can, hoping he understands just what they mean to me.
My hands shake as I reach out, grabbing the bag and ripping it open like a Band-Aid.
Nix goes to stand, but my hand slaps his arm, my nails biting into his flesh. “Stay,” I plead, unwilling to look at him. I need his silent strength, his unwavering devotion to a man I loved but am realizing I hardly knew.
He sits back down in silence, his arm reaching behind my chair, wrapping me in his essence. A sigh escapes me, full of relief and granting me that nudge of bravery I don’t own. “Have you guys gone through this?”
Do I dump it out? Pull each piece out one by one? What’s the etiquette here?
“No. Our local healer bagged it up and brought it here.” His fingers slide along my shoulder in a teasing and gentle touch. Just enough to assure me and let me know he’s there. “We wanted to wait, knowing his next of kin would come. We just didn’t know it would be you. Sabina, we respect the dead, their earthly materials, and the love they held for those things. We would not have touched this bag without permission. But now that you are here, we will look through it and see what we can pick up. Once you are ready, that is.”
I nod, realizing there is more respect here than in the human world. A fine line of needing to know what happened and waiting for the family to grant that permission. I reach in and pull out a basic shirt. The faded jade greets my eyes before the tears and splatters of blood. My fingertips graze over the cotton material, from the little pocket in the corner to the rips that drag down the front.
“Did a wolf do this?” That evidence is damning. What other creature would cause slashes like this? A bear? Coyote?
Silence greets my question. I turn to Nix, his black brows pulled low as his nostrils flare. “May I?”
I hand him the bloodied shirt with ease, not ready to look too far into those stains. They’re no longer red but dark, as though ink spilled onto the fabric. It’s not saturated, but damn near close. I reach in again, pulling out his basic sneakers and the socks balled into the insides. Both covered in blood. I watch as he shakes his head before giving a half sneeze with confusion on his brow.
My body shakes in uncontrollable tremors then cools. I feel like I’ve been trekking through the arctic and hypothermia is but moments away. I can stave off the feeling, even as it grows to flood my system. Grinding my teeth, I pull out his jeans. More blood soaks through the shredded material, and I quickly check the pockets. Empty. I hand the jeans to Nix who stands with the clothing and moves to the door where he hands them off to the other guys.
When he joins me again, he pulls his chair closer so his arm now wraps around my shoulders in silent strength.
I upend the bag.
Items clang and scatter on the table, and I toss the bag behind me. Never, I never want to fucking look at one of those bags again. A long shudder passes through me, and when it dissipates, I can concentrate on the items spread out before me.
Like a macabre puzzle, they glint in the light. Pieces of his life lying before me. I reach for the pocketknife first. It’s simplistic with fine lines of chrome. I flick it open to reveal a shiny blade far newer than the knife itself.
Beside me, Nix tenses, his body vibrates, and his muscles clench. His face is scrunche
d in concern when I glance at him. “What is it?”
“That is a silver blade, Sabina.” His voice shakes just as the other guys walk in. They sit in the other chairs, and luckily Dad’s clothes are no longer visible. I hope they can get something off of them, anything really, but the clothing isn’t where the crime took place. It is just what’s left over.
I flick the blade closed and set it aside. I already have the spare set of his truck keys, but I still grab the ring and caress each key, wondering what mystery they possess.
“How did you get his truck?” Athos questions, reminding me that Christian had a fit the other day about the truck randomly showing up at the grocery store.
“My mom got it.” Though now that I think about it, that seems odd. “Did you see her?” I don’t look away from the keys as I ask. This entire blip in time feels as though I’m living it through a lens. Watching from a TV or from above. I don’t feel like I’m living it.
“No, not once, and we would have noticed,” Athos answers with a question in his tone.
“I don’t know.” I’m just as perplexed as the rest of them. “Do you know what these keys are for?”
“No.” With a headshake and a sigh of frustration, he gathers his hair into a topknot, throwing it up in a messy bun before he continues, “Your dad had his secrets.”
I hum, moving back to the other items on the table. Dad apparently held more secrets than a president’s whore. A few mints litter the table. His wallet. A paper clip which was probably used to pick locks by the look of it. Bent and out of shape. Of all things I can do, I can pick a lock like a pro. Dad thought it was a reasonable skill.
But what lock was he picking?
Shaking away the thoughts and ready to finish here, I grab his wallet. The stitched bass appears to jump off the side with splashes of water. Mouth dry, I open the brown leather, and inside, his smiling face peers up at me. His tan skin, a smile full of white teeth, and white hair gleam in his driver’s license picture, while his icy blue eyes hold secrets and stories just waiting to be told.
