Page 67 of Red

“What a nice greeting,” I say, laughing.

He scans the mess at his feet. “I sort of forgot about this. Do you want some help?”

“Sure,” I say.

This was the greeting I wanted. Nice and calm.

The cleaning helps take my brain away from the awful thing I did. Jocko starts restocking the books while I gather clothes. I slide a drawer shut, and the feeling of eyes makes me glance at the door. Stark stands in the doorway in new clothes, his hair darker and wet.

“What’s up, man?” Jocko asks.

“She’s not leaving my sight.”

I keep my response to myself.

“Well then, help, man. It’s your mess.”

What?

Stark nods and joins him in sorting the books.

Why did he trash his own home looking for me? He’s meant to keep me safe. I know that, and I left without a word. Part of me thinks he was only reacting to the duty that owns him. The twisted part of me wishes he just wanted me. If it had been him gone, I’d have done far worse than trash a room.

In an hour, we’re done, and I expect Stark to leave with Jocko for dinner, but he doesn’t. He goes across the hall and then slides a chair into the far corner of my room. I eye him and leave for the ensuite to shower—since I do reek like a human.

I close the door behind me and strip. The scent of my rose soaps makes me smile, along with the large waterfall showerhead. I stay there for a while, letting the water run, ignoring the fact that I have a new watchman who I need to stay the fuck away from. How can he act like nothing happened? This is all so wrong.

Stark sits in the chair, silent. I ignore him as I turn off the lights and climb into bed. I haven’t slept fully since that night on Tripp’s couch and my body is slowing down.

“You’re not eating?” he asks, breaking the silence.

Ignoring him, I pull the sheet up over my head, sinking into the soft pillow, and close my eyes.

Tomorrow, I’m going to tell the Elders everything I learned, and it will all be okay.

Chapter 21

Stark stops the truck and stares at me. I look back out the window and open the door, using the handle to swing down. We’re at the Elders’ Chamber. It’s a large round building, board-and-batten around the sides. The only windows are on the front doors and a few skylights on the coned roof. I stand up straight and head toward the doors. This morning, they summoned me before I had a chance to request a meeting.

Stark’s footsteps slosh in the slush behind me. “Can we talk before you go in? Please.”

“No.” I yank the door open.

Otis welcomes us in the small entryway. There’s another set of tall wooden doors behind him, one of which is carved with an image of a man, and the other a wolf.

“Aloka, you may enter. I will meet you inside.”

I nod and pull open the thick door, bracing its weight with my shoulder. Stark catches it and opens it the rest of the way.

“Stark, you must wait outside. This does not involve you.”

“I’m going in,” he says, not a request.

Otis steps up to Stark’s chest and places a hand on his arm. “If you go in, you will make things worse for her.”

Worse?

The door closes behind me with a thud. I approach the center of the room. Every Elder is here except Otis, but there’s an empty seat at the end closest to the doors. A raised semi-circle stage holds them behind a curved, solid-wood bench.