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Somehow…I sensed she’d be roped into this mess with Anderson Grey, and I’d be damned if I let that happen. If it means that I have to send her to the other end of the world to protect her, then it’s exactly what I’ll do. Knix will protect her with his life – of that, I’m certain.
I have to make sure Evanesce doesn’t even get a sniff of this thing with Anderson. My sister can be set in her ways sometimes…she would try to protect me. I don’t know why she even thinks I deserve that. She’d do anything to make all my problems disappear, including marrying the manipulative son of a bitch. I feel my gut wrench again, and bile rises in my throat. I can’t even stand the thought of it. I need some hard liquor in my system. I glance at the bloody shards of mirror lodged in my knuckles and back at the cracked mirror on the wall. I look away, suddenly ashamed of myself. I need to replace it before Evanesce returns home. She’d replaced the last one that broke in my fit and made me promise not to break another fit. And here I am… just a few days later. My phone vibrates, pulling me away from the depressing turn my thoughts are taking. I pick up my cut and fish out my phone. I glance at my screen, and I’m surprised to see fifteen missed calls from Seer and eight from Hemlock.
When did that happen…?
Something grave must have happened for them to call me that much. I start to run toward the door, but I realize that my shirt is stained with blood. I take off my blood-stained shirt, snatch a random shirt from the couch and quickly pull it over my head. I wrap a bandana over my bloody knuckles and run out into the main room.
“Pocus!” Seer screams, running to meet me halfway. “What the hell? I almost made Hemlock break down your door. I thought you died in there or something. I don’t…,” he gasps loudly, his eyes going wide as he stares at the blood-soaked bandana wrapped around my hand. “Oh, Mon Dieu, Pocus! What the hell? Look at your hand!”
“What happened?” I asked, ignoring Seer’s worried query. “Why did you call me so many times?”
“I got a call from the precinct, and they say Bones has been charged and is set to appear before a judge in two days.”
“What?” I ask in disbelief.That bastard….
“What do we do, Prez?” Hex asks, coming to stand beside Seer. Everyone has the same worried look on their faces as they turn to me for answers – ones I don’t have.
“Church,” I say in a frigid tone. “Now.”
* * *
The cool evening air brushes against my skin like a woman’s caress. It’s that time of the day when the sun is stuck halfway on the horizon. Its beautiful bright orange rays bathe the trees and swamp in a warm glow. The swings sway gently in the distance. Even the ghosts come out to play at this time. Nothing about the scenic beauty of the evening calms the raging storm of disturbing thoughts in my heart. Seer is half lying on one of the porch chairs, pretending to be engrossed in one of those huge inspirational books he always carries about while I’m lounging on the recliner, almost halfway through a bottle of some old French whisky. I thought the sharp stinging sensation that accompanies the taste of the alcohol would help sharpen my mind and keep my thoughts afloat, but I could as well be gulping down ordinary water. Seer doesn’t think I see him watching me from under his lashes. He’s been throwing inconspicuous glances my way for the past couple of hours while we sit in somewhat tense silence. I wonder if he notices he hasn’t flipped a page in the past hour.
I heave a heavy sigh and down the rest of the whiskey in my glass. “Spill, Seer,” I say quietly. “What is it?”
Seer tries to feign ignorance but soon realizes the gesture is useless when I roll my eyes at him. After carefully arranging his bookmark, he lets out a breathy sigh and puts his book aside.
“Your hand…,” Seer says slowly, glancing down at my neatly bandaged knuckles. I was glad Graveyard had disinfected and wrapped it without any questions, but it seems like I can’t avoid the issue for long.
“What’s going on with you, mon ami?” Seer asks with another sigh. “You seem more like a stranger these days.”
Or maybe he’s just coming to realize that he never truly knew me. My chest tightens with guilt and something else that feels suspiciously like sadness. It pains me that the man I also consider a friend feels like he has to tread on eggshells with me. But how can I explain my pain when I don’t fully understand it?
I shrug uncertainly. “It’s just….”
I’m suddenly interrupted by the loud engine of a truck rolling down the driveway. I frown slightly, wondering who the visitor might be. The driver has barely parked when the passenger door is opened, and a huge familiar figure jumps out.
“Prez!”
I stare blankly at the man stalking down the driveway toward me, then blink rapidly to make sure I’m not daydreaming.
“Bones!”
Seer’s voice beside me calling out his name is all the assurance I needed that my imagination isn’t playing some sick joke on me. I open my arms just before Bones can close in for a hearty hug.
“Bones, my friend!” I say with a hearty laugh, pleasantly surprised by his unexpected appearance. Bones pulls away and goes to embrace Seer. Soon, the porch is filled with almost all the other members of the MC. Everyone seemed to want to talk to him at the same time, pushing and pulling the poor man until Bones looks like he run at their heartfelt reception.
“That’s enough,” I say, and they all piped down. “The man just got out of detention; we should….”
My phone rings loudly in my pants pocket, interrupting my little pep talk. As the noise behind me immediately resumes, I fish the phone out of my pocket with a grunt, rolling my eyes. I move away from the racket behind me and swipe my screen to answer the call.
“Hello?” I say in a loud voice to be heard above the noise behind me.
“Pocus.”
I’d recognize that deep sinister voice anywhere.Anderson. “Why the fuck are you calling me? How did you get my contact number?” I growl, walking further away from the clubhouse members. I stop by the gently swaying swings, wait for them to stop moving, and lower myself onto the nearest one. I feel a little bad for making the ghosts leave in the middle of their hangout, but they know when to excuse themselves.
“Your contact number is the least of things I have on you,” Anderson says in a smug tone that makes my blood boil again. “How do you like my gift? It’s to commemorate the beginning of our life-long relationship.”
