Page 108 of Fractured Fates
31
The man in black
It’smidnight by the time Stone reaches the bar. But who am I kidding? It’s not like I’ve been sleeping much the last few weeks. My fucking body and my fucking mind won’t let me. I’m restless, aware that there’s only one damn thing that will cure that.
I’m beginning to think Stone is wrong. That this isn’t something we can ignore. Isn’t something we can forget. Sure as hell isn’t something we can reverse.
But perhaps this late night plea to meet will prove me wrong. Perhaps he’s found the answer to our problems.
Jesus Christ, I hope so. It’s becoming harder to resist. Harder to ignore.
I’ve already faltered once. I know I could do so again.
However, as soon as I catch sight of him in the mirror behind the rows of liquor bottles, strolling toward me, I know he hasn’t.
He looks as tired as I feel. Dark rings lining his eyes, his beard unkempt.
He slumps down on a stool.
“Two times in one month. This is becoming a habit.”
He’s not in the mood for banter and small talk. He picks up my beer, takes several long swigs, then slams it on the bar top.
“She came to see me tonight,” he says, rubbing his fingernails through the bristles of his beard.
My eyebrows leap up my forehead, and I try to ignore the sensation of jealousy that pokes at my chest.
“She did?” I say, although the words leave my mouth in an aggressive growl.
Stone’s eyes flick up to mine. “It wasn’t like that, asshole.” His eyes narrow. “I’m not about to bundle her onto my bike.”
“Are you sure? It’s growing stronger, you know it’s growing stronger.”
He scrubs his hands over his face.
“She wanted answers.”
“Answers?”
The girl doesn’t understand, shows little signs of awareness and no curiosity at all. If it had been any other way, she’d have showed up at Stone’s office long ago, demanding answers … and more. But it was only a matter of time. She was always going to work it out eventually.
“She wants to know who she is, who her parents were, why she was being hidden.”
So it wasn’t that. I’m not sure if I feel relief or disappointment.
I lean back on my stool. “You think she was serious? You think she really doesn’t know those things?”
“She’s getting a little better at shielding her thoughts,” he frowns, “but only a little. She was being truthful.”
“Why now? Why ask now?”
He shrugs, signaling to the barman for a drink of his own. “She’s not happy. She wants to leave.”
I lean forward. “With a price on her head?”
“Yeah, with a price on her head.”
“She won’t last two minutes.”
