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Bloodstained Beauty by Fields, Ella (25)

 

Thomas

 

“Honestly, Murry. How long does it take to glue two bits of skin together?”

“About one hundred and fifty times longer than it does to sever them,” he shot back. “Be grateful you don’t need stitches.”

“Grateful,” I grumbled beneath my breath, tension coiling tight in every muscle as Murry kept dabbing at the back of my damn scalp. The urge to shove away his none too gentle touch held strong, but the need to make sure I didn’t have a gaping head wound won out.

I suppose I was grateful.

She was here.

In my house.

And she’d tried to kill me twice.

I smiled, and Murry, ever the perceptive, sensed it. “That kitten has claws.”

“Much sharper than I thought,” I surmised, inspecting the plate that was in pieces on the floor. My head pounded, but the volcanic blood coursing through my veins when I thought of her and that violent fear in her eyes distracted me.

“You want me to wake you tonight?”

“I’m not concussed.”

“Done.” Murry’s hands disappeared, finally. “Let me look at your eyes, just to be sure.”

“No.” I stepped away and removed my jacket, which was covered in specks of blood.

Nothing new there. Except for it being mine instead of someone else’s. “Any updates about the dad?”

After locking the first-aid cabinet, Murry walked into the bathroom, his voice rising over the sound of running water as he washed his hands. “He read the text sent from her phone about her road trip to Indiana to see an old high school friend. Judy received the phone this morning and is prepped in case he calls or texts her.”

Judy worked for me and a few of my friends. She liked expensive things and loved the fact she only had to work simple jobs that sometimes only lasted ten minutes and didn’t require her to open her legs to get paid handsomely.

“Is he worried?”

A pause preceded his return down the small hall. “Not overly. Delov said his guy tapped into a phone conversation that her dad made to the grocer and, apparently, to her ex, but he soon settled after that.”

“The fed?” I asked, rage curling my fingers. My thumbs cracked my knuckles at the thought of the undeserving idiot. At the violence my hands longed to do to his smug face.

“He didn’t answer the call, and I doubt her dad will try again now that he’s not all that concerned. He apparently loathes the guy.”

“Excellent. Make sure Judy returns the phone in a week.” I took my jacket with me upstairs, Murry following a second later and marching straight to his cookies to inspect them. “And we need to replace the phones.”

“I just did two weeks ago.”

“Again. Order more, and have Sage and Beau do the same.” I draped my jacket over the back of a stool. “They must’ve tapped in when I was discussing the Claytons with Beau. Even though it was last year, we can’t afford to get sloppy.” It had to be the calls as I’d done the rest of my digging in private, unfollowed, and over the span of the past several years. Never quite sure what to do with the family that took everything from me.

Murry’s eyes shot to mine, and he nodded. “Makes more sense now, how she winded up playing house with him.”

Humming, I took a cookie, chewing as I glanced around the kitchen, looking for any sign of my Dove.

“Do you think she’s searching for another way out?” I asked as I opened the two-door fridge and yanked a bottle of water out.

“Doubtful with Miss Lou keeping her busy.”

I drained half the drink bottle, the plastic crinkling. Giggling, faint but audible, sounded through the house, and my heart swelled.

“Besides,” Murry said, eating a cookie as he placed several onto a plate. A disposable one this time. “There’s no other way out. The only reason the kitchen door was unlocked was because I took the trash out.” He put the disposable plates back inside a drawer. We kept them to feed visitors that needed to stay alive, and who most definitely couldn’t be trusted with porcelain. “I’ll be sure to lock it and take keys next time.”

“Ensure you do.” I had faith in my Little Dove, but I’d failed to remember she didn’t do well locked in a cage. “Let’s hope she knocks it off soon.” I set the bottle down on the counter.

Murry snorted, halting my journey out of the kitchen to the sound that was tugging me toward the stairs. “You’re overly optimistic about this situation.”

“Your point?” My tone was cold.

Murry was used to it by now and continued as he placed the rest of the cookies inside a weird looking glass jar. “I’m not trying to upset you. I’m just being honest when I say I think it’d be wise to remember what you are.” His eyes rose, three fingers falling to the countertop as he leveled me with the full effect of what I’d done to him. “Remember that not everyone, in fact, hardly anyone, will be accepting of that.”

Backtracking, I took the cookies from the counter and tried to leave his words behind.

I was unsuccessful. They haunted my every step, plagued my mind with terrible what-ifs, and threatened to darken the spark that resided in my chest.

The one she’d placed there.

She couldn’t extinguish it. It wasn’t in her nature, claws or not. But I knew all too well that she could leave, sooner rather than later, and that might be the last I ever saw of her.

My thoughts fled at the sight of the two girls curled up together on the window seat, Lou Lou smiling and pointing at the page of a book they were reading.

I didn’t want to disturb them.

I wanted to join them.

And though I knew Jemima wouldn’t like it, I still tapped on the open door.

She looked over, and the smile that’d transformed the beauty of her face into perfection wilted as she ducked her head.

It hurt worse than having a plate slammed over my head. “I have a delivery for you.”

“Cookies!” Lou rushed me, almost sending them to the rug covered floor with her excitement.

“One minute. Have you washed your hands?”

Lou scowled but didn’t even try to lie. She left the room to use the bathroom down the hall. “Do it twice,” I called.

She groaned.

“Twice?” my Dove spoke.

Moving into the room, I set the plate down on the white armoire, then took a seat on the bed. “She’s got a hamster. Too many germs.”

“Clinkers,” Jemima said. “She brought him in for show and tell once.”

“That one is dead,” I said before thinking, then rushed to add, “but I replaced it before she noticed. And he is actually a she, but Lou hasn’t figured that out either.”

Jemima smiled. Then, as if reminded she shouldn’t, she turned her attention out the window.

Sitting in the silence, I listened for the patter of little feet, but heard none.

“Is your head okay?” Her voice was strained as though she didn’t want to ask but something had compelled her to.

“Nothing Murry couldn’t fix with a little glue.”

She looked back at me. The sunlight highlighted the tangles in her usually glossy hair, the smudges beneath her eyes, and put her turbulent emotions on full display.

And still, she was the most beautiful thing my eyes ever had the pleasure of viewing.

“If you’re not going to hurt me, why am I here?”

“Because I wanted you to be here.” I struggled to keep her gaze as I admitted, “I needed you to know more and to see you before your fed took you away.”

Her brows puckered, pink lips parting. Questions arose in her dark eyes. Questions she visibly casted aside with a shake of her head, then asked, “When can I leave?”

The sound of Lou’s feet thundering down the hall made me shut my mouth, hide my disappointment, and rise from the bed. “Whenever you like. My only request is that you come find me before you do.”

Her eyes shot up to mine, confusion darkening them.

“Lou.” Catching her as she tried to barrel past me to the cookies, I tilted her chin and ran my palm over the silken curls of her hair. “Make sure you share and don’t pester. Miss Clayton needs lots of rest and food after being unwell.”

“Of course, Daddy.”

With one last look at Jemima, who was biting her nail as she stared at me, I forced myself from the room. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but too much at once was never good when someone was acclimating to a new environment.