by Rach Elle
His eyes drifted to the pile of pills on the desk. He didn’t know why, but he decided not to end his life tonight. Whether it was because the idea of his son learning he had called it quits sickened him, or because he was just too tired to shove more than a few pills down his throat; he didn’t know.
With a heavy sigh he placed his son’s picture face down on the desk before taking four tablets and swallowing them with a swig of vodka. Instead of returning to his wingchair he decided to climb into bed.
He sat upright on the mattress with his back against the headboard and the covers draped over his legs. He turned off his light and took another pull of vodka; allowing it to burn his throat. He reveled in the pain and would continue to do so before drifting off to sleep where he would hopefully dream about something – anything – other than his own failures.
Sunders’ eyes sleepily drifted open to the realization that a light was on in his flat. It wasn’t his overhead light; that would have burned his retinas after coming out of such a deep sleep. No, it was a small table lamp that sat on his dresser across the room. It pooled only a small amount of light in his tiny flat; giving off a soft, orange hue. He groggily rolled over onto his back and looked to the right to see Rue standing next to his wing chair. She looked beautiful in the dimness. Her long brown hair cascaded over her shoulders. She wore a white t-shirt with a deep, wide V-neck; exposing her collar bone and the smooth skin of her upper chest.
“Why are you here?” Sunders asked with a hoarse voice.
“I wanted to make sure you’re okay. You haven’t been at work for a few days.”
He creased his brow, “Why do you care?”
Rue smiled softly before climbing onto the bed. She lounged against the headboard next to him. “I care about you,” she held out her arms as if to make way for him.
Sunders could feel his chest swelling with emotion. Slowly, he pushed himself to roll toward her and allowed his body to contour against hers. He wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his head against her chest. He closed his eyes and smiled at the feel of her soft skin against his. She reached forward and grabbed the blankets before pulling them up and draping them over his body; instantly warming him. She then wrapped her left arm around his back and crooked her elbow upwards so she could run her fingers through his hair; soothingly and sweetly. He took a deep breath; inhaling her natural scent. Upon his exhale he let out a series of words he’d been dying to say, “I’m so sorry.” She didn’t stop caressing him as he continued, “I’m sorry I can’t find Annie.”
Rue sighed, “I know. And I forgive you.”
Sunders fought back tears, “There is just no way I’d be able to find her. I’m a failure in nearly every facet. I couldn’t stand the idea of being a failure in your eyes, too.”
“To be honest,” she spoke softly, “I knew you wouldn’t be successful. But I was at the end of my rope. I had no other choice. You were a long shot. And I knew it.”
Her words stung only slightly. She was justified to feel about him the way she did. He couldn’t blame her. And even with this familiar pain of defeat, he couldn’t help but be comforted as he lay in her arms. She did that to him. He would be happy to continue to fail; to fall flat on his face at every turn if it meant she would hold him like this afterwards.
“I killed someone,” Sunders’ words were somber and bleak.
Rue stopped running her fingers through his hair, “Was he a friend?”
Sunders shrugged, “It was turning into something like that.”
“How did you kill him?”
“Wade shot him.”
“That doesn’t sound like your fault.”
Sunders squeezed his eyes shut, “The bullet was meant for me. I should be dead; not him.”
“Is that why you’re doing all of this? Drinking your weight in cheap alcohol; taking illegal drugs to help you sleep; is that why you keep checking to make sure your gun is still rigged behind your bathroom sink? Because you want to die?”
A tear escaped Sunders’ eye and rolled down his cheek as he nodded; his four day scruff undoubtedly scratching against her bare skin. But she didn’t complain. “They’re all gone,” he said sadly. “Max and Darla; I can’t trust Bill anymore. And Junior and his clan – they don’t want anything to do with me.” Quietly, he said, “You’re all I have left.”
Rue began caressing his hair again, “And now I’m here.”
“But you shouldn’t be. I destroy lives. You should get as far away from me as possible.”
Rue shrugged, “Maybe that’s why we’re perfect for each other; my life was destroyed years ago; there’s nothing more you could do to it.”
Her words, in a strange way, eased him. He relaxed against her body as the tears that threatened to overflow dried behind his eyes. “Will you still be here tomorrow then?”
He could feel her chest deflate slightly as she spoke, “No. When you wake up in the morning I’ll be gone.”
He held her tighter, “I don’t want you to go.”
She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. She whispered against his salt and pepper hair, “Then don’t go to sleep and I’ll be with you forever.”
Rue sat on her parked motorcycle across the street from Sunders’ flat. She had been watching him intently through his large picture window. She had followed him earlier in the day to the liquor store and then watched as he bought some substance in the alley that she could only assume were drugs.
Rue had decided three days ago that she wouldn’t let Sunders off so easily. He had told her he wasn’t going to help find her sister. And that just wasn’t what she wanted to hear. He had used the excuse that he needed to focus on the gargoyle investigation, which she knew wasn’t true, but she had no proof. It was then that she resolved to get some. She made the decision to tail the Finder; to follow his every movement until she could get evidence that showed he already knew the whereabouts of the elusive creatures. She would then use it against him; to blackmail him into finding her sister. It was low, she knew that. But she was running out of options. So she had bugged him. She swiped tracers from the DAA and planted them on the three pairs of shoes that Sunders owned.
The plan was to stay at a distance; completely uninvolved with the Scotsman’s life. Observation only – that was the plan. But over the course of the past three days she had watched him fall into a desperate and dark downward spiral. He was drinking more and more and moving less and less. When she got the alert that he actually left his apartment today she was more relieved that he was getting fresh air and less excited to gather evidence to hold against him.
Now she had watched him pour whatever illegal substance he had bought earlier onto his desk and stare at it for a few moments. When he finally picked up only a few of the tablets and downed them with some clear liquid – vodka, mostly likely – she breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment she thought she was going to have to break down his door and shove her fingers down his throat to purge his stomach of a handful of pills. But instead he lowered his blinds and turned off his light; her cue to go home for the night.
But she didn’t.
Rue didn’t know why, but she couldn’t force herself to leave. She checked her phone; it had been an hour since Sunders turned off his light. She assumed whatever drug he’d taken had fully kicked in by now. Instead of starting up her motorcycle and driving home she propped it on its kickstand and crossed the street.
Rue leaned her ear against the Scotsman’s door and listened for any sign of life; there was none. She pulled out her lock pick and got to work on his doorknob. After only a few seconds she could feel the bolt retreat and quietly pushed her way inside.
The flat was dark and cold. The only sound was Sunders as he slept peacefully on his back. God, he looked like shit. But she didn’t have time to analyze every tell that he was careening off the road at sixty mph. Instead she grabbed the bag of pills that sat on his desk and pulled out a tablet. She turned on her phone; the soft glow illuminating
the drug and allowing her to see the markings etched into the surface. She typed them into a site online and waited for the results to come up.
Rue froze as Sunders began to move. He unconsciously rolled over onto his side and hugged his pillow. When it was clear he wasn’t waking up she exhaled the breath she had been holding.
Her screen had loaded and now displayed the word, Percocet. She relaxed a little. He wasn’t taking an illegal drug; well, illegal in the sense that it wasn’t a commonly prescribed medication. Although it was typically used for pain, one major side effect was drowsiness. No wonder he was out like a light.
Rue looked at Sunders and smirked at the way he held onto his pillow; tightly, but with consideration; as if he was holding onto someone he loved.
She put the pill back into the bag. At least for now he wasn’t completely abusing the drug, but she had a feeling that would soon change. He was clearly spiraling out of control. She shoved the bag into her jacket pocket and turned to leave when she noticed him shiver slightly. She knew she should just go home but couldn’t convince her body to follow orders. Finally, she rolled her eyes and approached the bed before lifting the blankets and covering Sunders. She watched as his body relaxed almost instantly.
She turned to leave just as an object caught her eye. It was a picture frame that was lying face down on the desk. Curious, she wrapped her fingers around the frame and lifted it when the Scotsman began to mumble in his sleep. She raised the picture into her line of sight and as she stared at the image of a young, brown haired boy she heard Sunders sleepily, but clearly say, “I’m so sorry.”
56
Wiltshire, England…
Cypro stood in the corner of the ballroom in Hasmukh’s mansion. His eyes slowly drifted over the granite floor, up the golden wallpapered walls and across the massive windows that overlooked the river that cut the valley in half. His brain worked like crazy to keep himself distracted by the thick drapery that pooled on the floor at their ends, but his anxiety was simply too much to ignore. Briefly, he tuned into the conversation happening to his left. Hasmukh was currently debriefing Augmen on the properties of the trance they were preparing to put Awilda Rose under; assuming she was actually going to show, that is.
Cypro tried to suppress the knot in his stomach. He didn’t like this plan. It wasn’t because it was dangerous to mix company with Hasmukh. It wasn’t because they were plotting to kill an unsuspecting girl. It was because they were betraying BeStone. Cypro knew the gargoyle well. He knew the nurturing side he rarely showed to anyone. But he also knew his vengeful side. He had a feeling BeStone would never hurt him, but his brother on the other hand; that was a different story.
Cypro’s ears perked as Hasmukh began explaining that he would offer one of his servants for support during their murderous ploy. He rolled his eyes. He didn’t want anything to do with Hasmukh’s servants. But if BeStone did somehow get involved tonight it would be good to have someone to protect Augmen.
Cypro’s eyes wandered upward past the dozen chandeliers and toward the balcony from which they would pull their little puppeteer bit. His stomach churned again. He winced and gritted his teeth; hoping like hell Awilda Rose wouldn’t show at all.
57
Junior stood in front of a mirror that hung on his bedroom wall. His eyes narrowed at his reflection. In response he lifted his hand and brushed a piece of lint off of his right shoulder. He then wrapped his fingers around his navy blue tie and straightened the noose around his neck. He checked his watch to see that the reception was about to begin. The ballroom downstairs had already been set up and all it needed now was the arrival of over one hundred guests.
Junior sighed. He usually hated getting all dressed up like this. And normally he loathed playing security guard at these stuffy black tie affairs. But tonight was different. Tonight he was actually feeling anticipation; for tonight he was attending the party with Awilda Rose on his arm. He had watched her from afar at these things; she looked uncomfortable and a little out of place. He was too, he supposed. But he couldn’t wait to lead her onto the dance floor and wrap his arms around her waist. He wanted to press her into him and sway slowly from side to side without any regard to anyone else.
The bedroom door opened and Awilda stepped inside; nearly knocking the wind out of Junior. She wore a white dress that stopped just below her knees. The short sleeves and collar were made of lace and her navy blue high heeled shoes matched his tie. Her hair laid flatly and she hadn’t done her makeup yet, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her; she looked stunning. He couldn’t wait to show her off at the reception.
“Can we go somewhere?” She asked nervously.
Junior furrowed his brow, “Where?”
She shrugged her shoulders, “Wiltshire.”
“This again?” he chuckled, “The reception is about to start.”
“I know; I’ve just had this feeling all day; like I’m supposed to go there.”
“I know, but what’s in Wiltshire?”
She shrugged again, “Stonehenge, I guess.”
“I’m pretty sure Stonehenge will be there tomorrow.”
“I know it sounds crazy,” she bit her bottom lip anxiously, “but I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that I need to go there and it’s only been getting stronger. I don’t know how much longer I can handle it.”
Junior looked down at the floor, catching a glimpse of his monkey suit. “Do you think one more night would hurt? We can go first thing in the morning.”
Awilda pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and exhaled an aggravated breath, “I don’t know,” she began, “I’m afraid…” She paused, trying to suppress any tears.
“Afraid of what?”
“That this feeling has something to do with the prophecy.”
Junior could feel his heart plummet into the pit of his stomach.
“Tauggle said that he gets a feeling in regards to the prophecy,” she continued, “And the closer we get to the war the stronger it gets. What if this is a similar feeling?”
Junior crossed the room, closing the distance between the two of them. Without saying a word he embraced her, engulfing her tiny frame.
“I need to go there,” Awilda choked, “now.”
Junior nodded, “Okay, we’ll go.” He pulled away just enough to look her in the eyes, “But we’re bringing Tauggle. If this does have anything to do with the prophecy then he can get you to safety.”
Awilda nodded as she swallowed the lump in her throat. She tried not to cry as she stared into his beautiful blue eyes. But no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t shake the debilitating feeling that this would be her last night with Junior Cross.
Cooper casually walked through the upstairs hall toward Junior’s room. She had gone to Awilda’s room to help her with her hair and makeup, but the girl wasn’t there. She figured she was spending even more time with her boy toy. Cooper rolled her eyes; the two of them were indeed a little nauseating.
Cooper knocked on the door and waited patiently for an answer. She figured they were probably having a hump and needed a moment to collect themselves. To pass the time she smoothed the fabric of her dark green strapless dress. After a moment of nothing but absolute silence she knocked again before twisting the knob and poking her head into the room. Empty.
Kingsley settled into his chair and latched onto his book. He leaned back and took a moment to enjoy the silence interrupted only moderately by the sound of Lizzie’s breathing in the bedroom. She wasn’t feeling well during supper and as a result turned in early. Kingsley didn’t mind; it meant she wasn’t up for attending the reception in the castle. Truth be told – neither was he. He hated those things.
Just as Kingsley opened his book a knock sounded at the door. Before he could get up to answer it Cooper let herself in. “Where’s Awilda?” She asked.
Kingsley crooked a brow, “How should I know?”
“You’re her shifter.”
“Well maybe you should
ask her boyfriend instead.”
“I can’t find him either.”
That caught Kingsley’s attention, “Junior’s missing too?”
Cooper nodded, “Yeah, and he’s supposed to help out with the knees up tonight.”
Kingsley cursed under his breath as he got up from his chair.
“What’s going on?” Cooper placed her hands on her hips.
“I don’t know,” Kingsley reached the computer sitting on the dining table. “But it looks like Junior decided to take Awilda somewhere without talking to me first – again.” His last word was laced with bitterness as he powered on the laptop. “This is exactly why I activated the GPS on his phone.”
Cooper crooked a brow, “You activated it?”
Kingsley looked offended for only a moment before conceding, “Fine, I had Mason activate the GPS on Junior’s phone – happy?” He turned back to the computer screen, “Now, how do I get to the internet again?”
Cooper dropped her arms and crossed the room. “Move,” she shimmied her way into Kingsley’s place. Within the minute she had the correct site up. “What’s your password?” She typed as Kingsley spoke and soon had the site working to locate Junior’s phone.
A moment later both Kingsley and Cooper frowned at the error message: Unable to Locate.
Cooper took a step back, “Fine, we’ll try our other tracking device.”
“What other tracking device?”
“Tauggle!” Cooper called. She waited for half a minute. When the Limrid didn’t show she called his name again – no answer. She was about to call for him one more time when the error message suddenly disappeared and displayed Junior’s location. She narrowed her eyes at the computer screen, “Wiltshire? Why would they be there?”
“I don’t know,” Kingsley headed for the kitchen, “But I’m going to find out.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a paper and pen before proceeding to write a note to Elizabeth in case she woke up.