Page 139 of At the Mercy of Midnight
They landed unsteadily, arms still wrapped around each other, on the border of East Town. Their narrow escape lingered between them as they parted, looking at each other, before silently heading into the small town.
Their walk back to Brinkley’s felt suffocated by a silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Silas hated the way Amelia’s brow was furrowed, a frown pulling her face taut for their entire trek across East Town. He searched for words that might help, to make them both feel better about what had happened, what was to come, but each time he came up empty. Silas didn’t know what to say, because he had no answers.
He felt irrevocably stuck, trapped.
And he despised that Amelia was trapped there with him.
She sighed, and he glanced sidelong at her.
“I think we’re going to need help,” she said quietly.
“Yes, I think so.”
Another soft sigh. “Keeping it quiet isn’t important anymore. We need more eyes, more knowledge…just more, to help us figure out what’s in this journal…and if there might be a way to change it.”
He nodded. “Alright. Who do you trust?”
They looked at each other.
Amelia opened her mouth, closed it, and glanced away. “Very few, but that doesn’t matter. There’s some in mind I’d like to send messages to, see if they could meet us.”
She chewed on her lip. “Okay, well I trust your judgement, so whoever you deem worthy to help us, I’m on board.”
Amelia looked to him, eyes shining before ducking her head with a small nod.
The problem that Silas foresaw was Brinkley.
He didn’t know the man very well. Or at all. But from the way he lived a comfortable, peaceful life in his quaint cottage, led Silas to believe that inviting strangers to his home may not be a welcome suggestion.
“So,” Amelia said slowly over a dinner of soup and bread rolls. She had been fiddling with her food for a while, barely eating. Silas knew the feeling, he could hardly stomach anything with the nerves shooting through his body. Brinkley looked up, catching Amelia’s pointed look. “Uh…you know how we’re in a spot of trouble?”
Brinkley raised a brow. “As per usual, but yes?”
Amelia licked at her lips, setting down the untouched piece of bread roll she had been slowly decimating between her fingers. “Well, we’ve decided we need some help.”
His spoon clanked against his bowl as he set it down, flicking his gaze to Silas before giving Amelia his attention.
She cleared her throat. “I know this is a lot to ask, but—”
“Sure,” Brinkley said, before she could even pose the question.
Amelia stalled, mouth half open.
Silas pushed his own bowl away. “You don’t even know what you’re agreeing to, Brinks.”
He shrugged casually from across the table, reaching for his glass of wine. “It’s Brinkley. Whatever you need, Lia.”
Silas refrained from rolling his eyes at the nickname. The familiarity between them sparked irrational jealousy. But he couldn’t ignore how helpful he had been so far, and grateful for the way he had been there for Amelia in the past.
“Oh, well,” Amelia said, shifting awkwardly, “you might want to hear what I’m asking first.”
Brinkley sipped daintily from his glass before setting it back down, smacking his lips as he did so. “Based on context, my home is about to become lodging to more bodies, I imagine?”
Amelia and Silas exchanged a glance. She looked back to her friend.
“Yes, if that’s not too much trouble,” she said, hands fidgeting. “I’m hoping to invite a few people to meet us here tomorrow. Finley and I are feeling a bit desperate for some help. We also wanted to know if you would join the meeting. We can explain everything then.”
