“Another brother was murdered,” I replied with a sigh. “I saw him die.”
“You were there?” she asked, standing up straight. She leaned away from me; I didn't want to know why.
“Sean brought me. He got a call. I think he thought it would help somehow.”
“And?”
“Big 'no' on that one. Big. Huge. Ginormous,” I replied. “As always, my presence only started a fight. Sean can't hold them off forever, P. If we don't find out who is doing this soon...”
I trailed off, thinking she would see the writing on the wall. Her eager eyes told me she didn't. I guess it hadn't been impressed upon her exactly how much I was despised, loathed, and detested by the PC, both historically and presently. I really didn't want to explain in that moment, but felt she needed to have her eyes opened a little wider still.
“They'll kill me,” I said, plainly. “It's their job.”
“Sean would never let that happen,” she sputtered. “He...he just wouldn't...he can't!”
“No, Peyta,” I said softly, my expression bleak. “He'd be the one to pull the trigger. Some decisions are made for you.”
She saw the sincerity of my gaze and knew I was telling her the cold, hard facts—not an exaggeration.
“Shit,” she said with an exhale.
“Exactly.”
“So you rolled up on a crime scene as the prime suspect?” she asked, the wheels in her mind visibly turning.
“I did indeed.”
“You're lucky that welt on your face is all you walked away with.”
“That and the concussion that accompanied it.”
She came to rest her head in her hands again, leaning on the counter. There was silence between us for a minute.
“So you actually saw him die?”
“I did,” I replied mournfully. “It was horrible. He looked so young.” I glanced up and saw the same youth in Peyta's face that was slowly and painfully drained from Thomas's. Tears welled in my eyes. “It made me wish I was blind again.”
Peyta slipped an arm around my shoulders and gently dropped her head against mine.
“I'm sorry, Ruby. I wish I could have been there to help.”
I shot up and looked her in the eyes.
“I don't want you around that shit, Peyta. Never again. It's a life of death and sadness and it's not something you should wish for.”
“But Sophie said it's my calling—”
“I don't give a shit what Sophie said,” I spat. “Sophie isn't exactly the model of happiness and fulfillment to me. She's bitter and spiteful and alone. Is that what you want? What you want to become?”
“No, I just wanted to help—”
“If you want to help, Peyta, you'll stay far away from the PC,” I said before dropping my gaze as well as my volume. “You should probably stay far away from me too.”
“And Cooper?” she asked, choking on her words slightly.
“And Cooper.”
I watched her steel herself, erasing her momentary lapse in control.
“It's not gonna happen, Ruby. You can't shelter me,” she said, anger leaking into her tone. “My mother has been doing that my whole life. I'm tired of it, and I don't need it from you too!”
“I'm sorry I got so upset, Peyta... I'm just worried about you.”
“Maybe you should be worried about you. I'm not the one coming home battered and bruised with a lynch mob after me,” she snapped, going into the back to collect her things. She stormed back into the front on her way out the door. “I'm leaving,” she said, hovering at the door before exiting. “Am I coming back tomorrow?”
“If it's what you want,” I sighed. Peyta was a feisty one—there would be no controlling her. She came by those traits fairly honestly. “And, Peyta? I said those things because I care, not because I want to shelter you. Please don't be angry with me. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
“I know, Ruby. I'm not angry; I'm frustrated. Maybe I'm projecting feelings onto you that should be directed elsewhere. My mom isn't as easy to deal with.”
“No, she isn't,” I scoffed. “Maybe the PC is a safer place for you.”
“You just never know,” she said as she made her way out the door to her mother’s car. “Goodnight, Ruby.”
8
I collapsed down onto the counter, face and all, which proved to be a poorly thought out plan as the pain surged through my cheek. I gingerly turned my face the other direction and laid it back down. It seemed that no matter what choice I made, or reaction I had, it was inevitably wrong. As I blew out a deep breath, the papers I'd been oblivious to flew off the countertop, only further reinforcing my recent observation—things were just not going in my favor.
I heaved myself up off the cold surface, which had felt amazingly good to press against, and bent down to pick up the mess I'd made. Peyta was mad enough with me, regardless of whether or not she said she was. Adding to her filing wasn't going to improve matters. I scooped up the final strays and tapped the pile together on the floor to even the edges up neatly. While I placed them delicately in a pile on the lower shelf of the front desk, the bells alerted me to someone coming in.
“Sorry, we're—” I started as I shot up from behind the counter. I snapped my mouth closed when I saw the figure standing before me. Never in a million years would I have expected to see it.
“I saw the light on,” Sophie said meekly, gesturing to the fixture above her head. “I assumed someone was still here.”
“Peyta's gone,” I told her curtly. “You just missed her.”
“I know,” she admitted shyly. “I saw her leave.”
“Then why—”
“I need to talk to you, Ruby,” she said, cutting me off.
“If this is about me and Sean, I don't even want to hear it, Sophie. I can't help that he drags me to crime scenes and shows up unexpectedly to grill me on my whereabouts. You're going to have to take that up with him.”
“Not about that, Ruby. Something else...something more troublesome,” she whispered. “Sean is in danger. I need your help.”
My heart sank instantly in my chest. If Sophie was coming to me as an ally, things were beyond bad—they were apocalyptic. I straightened my shoulders and pushed the fear and anxiety I felt aside.
“What kind of danger?”
“The lethal kind, Ruby,” she said, lunging gently towards me with an outstretched hand. “I think they're going to harm him. Maybe kill him.”
“Who?” I exploded, backing away from her slightly. “Why?”
She dropped her gaze to her uncontrollably wringing hands. When she looked back up at me, there were tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She was terrified.
“The PC,” she started slowly, trying to calm herself. “I overheard a conversation today that I shouldn't have. I think they thought I'd left after Thomas...after Thomas died, but I hadn't. After Sean got angry with me, I went back to the house. I couldn't stand being out there with all that was going on. I heard a lot of commotion and saw the fighting; I thought it was best that I stay put. Once everything was taken care of, some of the brothers left, but others stayed to clean out the house.”
Sophie had taken to pacing the store, her hands still clasped tightly together as she rambled on without pause.
“As they approached, I could hear what they were saying, talking about the good old days, a poisoned mind...and retribution. They were talking about Sean. I hid in the basement to see what else I could find out. I couldn't recognize their voices, but one of them actually called the Elders. As best I could tell, they're planning to come here.” She finally stopped speaking, staring at me for emphasis.
My mind was too busy reeling to pick up on whatever little nuance I clearly had missed.
“And?” I asked, trying to spur her along.
“And the Elders haven't been to America before, Ruby. Not ever. It would take something epic to drag them from their comforts of home.”
“Oh
.”
“Exactly.”
“So if you think they're coming to kill Sean, why aren't you telling him all this?” I asked, still uneasy about her confiding in me.
“Don't you think I have? He doesn't care, Ruby. He says to let them come, that they can't do anything to him without cause and he's done nothing wrong.”
“Well, if he's not worried about it, why are you?”
“Because Sean doesn't see what's going on.”
“Well, I hope you do, because I think I'm in Sean's camp on that point.”
“He doesn't see that the Elders are no longer happy with his covenant to keep you safe. They allowed it at first, but now it's not to be borne. After everything they were told over the phone, I'm afraid they will suffer it no longer.” she said, her voice becoming increasingly frantic. “Sean thinks he's invincible. He's wrong—I know that to be true.”
I said nothing, only stared and attempted once again to process the subtext of what she was telling me. My bond to Sean that he willingly placed upon us was going to get him killed because he didn't believe that death was even on the table for him.
My initial reaction was to call him and tell him to remove it, but there were two major issues with that. For starters, it would have required Sean to listen to me, and I knew that wasn't going to happen. The other issue was if, for some strange reason, he agreed to do it, it left me marked for death—and the PC would make short work of that for sure.
“There's no solution to this...he won't undo it,” I told her, wide-eyed with increasing panic. “There's nothing we can do.”
“I thought about it the whole way over here, Ruby. I can think of only one thing to do,” she said, softly. “You have to convince him to remove it.”
“It's not going to happen, Sophie. I know you don't want to hear this, but he won't go for it. He loves me...he won't sacrifice me unless it's on his own terms. He's told me as much.”
“Then I guess you'll have to use your powers of persuasion,” she said, with the slightest undertone of contempt. “Use that love against him somehow.”
“Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you?” I gasped, as I grabbed my stuff to leave. “You're un-fucking-believable, Sophie. Just when I think you've got an ounce of soul in that hotrod body of yours, you show your true cavernous and empty self. I'm not doing shit for you. You probably made this whole fucking thing up just to have your way. You deserve an award and a fucking beating.”
She snatched me up by the arm and pulled me in close to her perfect face. It was a very different side of Sophie, one that I hadn't seen before. She'd always seemed a victim to me. That night, she was a woman possessed by the thought of losing the man she loved, and that was something I could relate to.
“I know what you think of me, Ruby. It's written all over that snotty little face of yours every time I see it. You think I'm a whore...that I'm selfish and opportunistic. You look at me like I'm a puddle of mud you have to walk around so your precious little Manolo's don't get ruined,” she quietly snarled, the disdain plain on her face as she pressed it closer to mine. “You have no idea what being me is like, and it's abundantly clear that you don't care, but I need you to get crystal clear on one thing. The Elders are coming, and they're coming for one thing and one thing only. They will not stop until they get what they want, and you may not have a clue who they are or what they're capable of, but I do. So if you want to think I'm full of shit and self-serving, think about this: who do you think will be the first person they take down after Sean is gone?”
Her question required no answer. My lack of response illustrated my full comprehension.
“Exactly, Ruby. You,” she said, regaining her composure. “If you really want me to cut to the chase, here it is—you're going to die either way. The question that remains is are you selfish enough to take Sean with you?”
She had me dead to rights. I may have hated her and everything she embodied, but if she was correct about the Elders' plans as well as Sean's mortality, I really didn't have a choice.
“He won't listen to me,” I whispered to her, as Scarlet paced in my mind. She really didn't like the options Sophie had presented us with; she wanted to see what was behind door number three.
“Nor me,” she added in commiseration. “You'll need to figure out a way to make him want to do it.”
“Figure out a way to make him want me dead? A way that he'll accept my sacrifice? Oh yeah, that sounds easy enough.”
“I didn't say it would be easy, only necessary,” she countered. “Just remember, your outcome remains the same whether you convince him to or not.”
“You've made my fate abundantly clear, thank you very much. I'm starting to think you're getting a deep sense of satisfaction out of constantly reminding me,” I growled, with a voice far huskier than my own. Scarlet was peeking out to say hello. The expression on Sophie's face dropped instantly as sweat beaded on her upper lip.
“Do what you can, Ruby,” she said, over-emphasizing my name. “You know Sean is willing to die for you. Are you willing to do the same for him?”
Scarlet's growl became a snap as she lunged toward her. Sophie screamed and fell backwards until her body pressed tight against the glass of the entrance door.
“I think you know exactly how much I'm willing to do for the ones I call my own,” Scarlet purred into Sophie's ear. “Remember?”
She pulled back slightly to take in the expression on Sophie's face. Her fear stank up the room, and I was stifled by the pressure of the emotion. “Now run along, Sophie. Wouldn't want you playing with the big bad wolf when she's hungry.”
Sophie bolted through the door so fast I thought her stilettos were sure to remain upright where she'd just been standing, like a fashion version of the tablecloth trick. Scarlet howled out a laugh at Sophie's retreat.
Any helpful suggestions? Scaring the shit out of Sophie doesn't seem very helpful.
“No, Ruby, it wasn't...but it sure was fun,” Scarlet grinned. “You should try it more often.”
I'm trying to get out of trouble, not into it.
“And that is why you miss out on so much of the thrill in life.”
Are you done now?
“Quite.”
With every calming breath I took, Scarlet blended back into her secondary role and I took over the helm. After a few minutes of standing and staring blankly at the display case along the far side of the store, I picked up my belongings and left. I very astutely remembered to lock the door behind me. All I wanted was to make it from the store to my apartment without being accosted or confronted by anyone who hadn't yet had their opportunity to do so that day.
I dragged myself up the stairs to my house, obsessed with finding a way out of the predicament Sophie had presented me with. The humidity that hung in the air around me was oppressive and did nothing to help my intellectual capacity. I was too tired to shower, eat, or even brush my teeth, so I went directly to my room and flopped onto the bed after taking off as much clothing as I could and still be considered dressed. I let my mind wander aimlessly, hoping it would tire after a mental hike—and I prayed for no visions that night.
I didn't need any icing on my drama cake.
9
The heat was unbearable.
After an unseasonably warm day, it seemed that the furnace in the apartment didn't get the memo about not needing to be on. I'd kicked the comforter off an hour earlier hoping that would help the sweating, but my pores continued to leak. The nearly full moon blasted through my curtains, making my sleeping conditions even more challenging. I tossed and turned before I finally gave up, facing the inevitable; I couldn't sleep.
Giving up on my quest for a good night's rest, I made my way to the kitchen and dug a questionably old bottle of Riesling out of the fridge. I leaned a hip against the island and drank straight from the bottle, feeling no need for etiquette. Staring off into space, I drank until the weight in my hand started getting lighter. I had no idea how long I'd been standing there.
The guest room door down the hall opened, followed by the closing of the bathroom door quickly thereafter. The light whoosh of water beating against the wall that separated the bathroom from the kitchen brought me out of my stupor. It was soothing background music as I continued my choreographed dance with the bottle—sip, stare, sip, stare.
When I tipped the bottle back for one last swig, I lost my balance slightly while perched against the island. I lurched forward as the bottle crashed hard against the floor, shattering into pieces. I groaned in response.
Reaching across the floor for the cabinet in front of me, I tried not to land in the pile of glass before me. After three attempts that nearly had me belly flop onto the kitchen floor, I decided that the dustpan would stay under the sink. Instead, I shimmied my way slowly out of the kitchen backwards, trying to avoid contact with the little glass floor obstacles surrounding me. I needed to get the vacuum cleaner, which I was fairly certain was in my closet; I didn't use it often.
I stepped gingerly into the hall at the same time Cooper burst into it. When I lifted my eyes from the floor, I saw him standing there, wrapped precariously in a white towel. He was still dripping wet. His lack of clothing snapped my attention back to my own scantily clad status. I hadn't really planned on running into anyone in the kitchen, so I wasn't worried about wearing a tight white and very threadbare tank top with black underwear; I guess I should have been.
I was sweating so profusely that I knew I looked like I was in a wet t-shirt contest. By the look on Cooper's face, I was winning. He was breathing hard. I was barely breathing at all; the tension in the air was too thick. Thoughts ran wild through my mind, all of which did nothing to help me battle the heat I was feeling. I needed to get away from him before I did something I'd regret.
Despite my best efforts to drop my eyes to the floor, they couldn't quite seem to get past the towel slung dangerously low on his hips. I stood there thinking of all the creative things I could do to get it to fall.
“Vacuum, vacuum...” I muttered to myself as I pressed against the wall and followed it towards my room. Unfortunately for me, my home was well over one hundred years old and they didn't believe in wide corridors back then. There was no escaping contact with him. I tried to squeeze past, my anxiety and his gaze pinning me to the wall, but as fate would have it, our arms grazed each other.
Framed Page 7