...Vince
and
Rosa walk through the gravel trail a
second time.
Being
day, Vince
is far more at ease, the wind and trees not
prodding at his mind with the
suggestion of voices. Ants,
centipedes and roaches
that were living
their lives, battling
each other and
hiding from predators hide
under rocks, roots, and the very soil as Rosa and Vince walk
past them. He
looks over his shoulder to Rosa, who’s slouched
as always as she walks, except
this time her thumbs
are under her pants
like a sheriff
would hold their belt.
“Hey,”
he says,
his
hands
clasped together
as
they rest atop his head.
“Did
you bring something this time?”
She
shakes
her head.
‘Again…?’
Vince thinks but doesn’t say.
He
nods, flipping
back to face the house as he picks up the pace. Though
his legs are still frail, he’s getting used to walking somewhat. Or
maybe it’s the blond girl’s
doing.
‘They’re
still very sore though,’
he thinks. ‘But healing surprisingly quick.’
“Not
gonna ask about the house?” he asks, looking up at the sky.
“Yeah,
whatever,” she snaps.
“What’s
there to ask about? I don’t care. All
I want is the copper.”
‘What’s
there even
to
talk about?’ she thinks to herself with an annoyed smirk.
‘You
didn’t find out shit. Just
spent your time talkin’ to that girl
and
wasted mine. Goin’
alone next time. Fuck this…’ her
drooped
eyes don’t leave the
ground.
“Apparently,
all
information on the
house
is completely off limits,”
he says, gesturing with a finger as he speaks. “Weird
thing happened too—when
the girl at the reception tried to get
around that,
it
just disappeared in
front of her!
Creepy...”
Rosa
grits her teeth, letting
out a quiet
“Girl
at reception was nice…” he
smiles warmly. “She’s
really into her job. Gave
me her number and
told
me to come back tomorrow. Don’t
know if
her boss is gonna help,
but she’s
very
hardworking.”
His
fingers fiddle with his leftmost
bang.
“GET
A CLUE ALREADY!
I
DON’T CARE , SCRUB! I
JUST WANT—”
“Wait...what’s
that?” Vince
asks as
he
points
to something hanging from the house’s
porch.
“What’s
what,
dude…?!”
she asks with
an
irritated breath.
Something
shiny—metallic.
The material looks like silver or platinum to
Vince.
It’s a
charm, akin to a crucifix, except for having an extra arm and three
holes
punched
throughout the base: the
first at the bottom, second in the middle, and third
at the top.
It’s
swaying
from side to side in the wind like
a dreamcatcher. A
single, golden
string supports
its weight. To
Rosa, it looks expensive. Her
eyes light up, the eyes of a child watching
a keychain being dangled
and rattled
in front of it.
“It
looks like—” Vince
is cut off when
he sees
Rosa dart towards it. “No,
don’t! It could
be a trap!”
“Hah!
‘Trap’
my ass!” she
yells, snatching
it, its string cleanly
snapping at the top. “This
has
to be worth
more than copper!”
She
slowly
unclenches
her fist to marvel at the jewel that she just
took.
Odd,
she doesn’t remember it being red.
‘Oh,’
she thinks. ‘It
cut me. But
it doesn’t hurt?’
The
pseudo
crucifix’s
sharp
edges have dug into her skin, breaking it. Rosa
can’t tell the depth of the cut, but when she tries to carefully
grab
it at the edges with her other hand, she cuts herself. This time she
feels it, instinctively dropping the
item.
“Hey!”
Vince says, rushing over. “Are
you hurt? Let me see.”
“Ugh!
It’s just a flesh-wound!” she
says, wiping
her hand on her black skirt. “Don’t
you dare touch it. It’s mine. I
found it first.”
“Jeez,
Rosa,” Vince says, bending down to pick it up. “You
could get tetanus or something. Let
me at least see it—”
“Hey!
What the hell?!” Vince catches
himself on one
of the
porch’s support
beams.
“Told
you not to touch it!”
“It
wasn’t here before! Now it’s just hanging there on the front
porch where
anyone
can easily grab
it?
It’s
probably poisoned!”
“Shut
it! I don’t give a damn!
And
why
do you care? You
should be more preoccupied with your new girlfriend. Unlike
her, a little poison won’t hurt me…”
“New
girlfriend…?” he
asks, his
eyes lighting
up. “You mean the reception girl? She’s
just a
little forward! Not like that at all!”
“Hah…as if…”
“...Rosa?”
She
collapses
to the ground, her
eyes’ focus on the item not breaking even
when it lands right next to her silently.
Her
mind feels light, yet her body feels heavy.
‘What
the hell is happening?’ she thinks. She
crawls towards the crucifix, not
noticing Vince crouched
next to her, shaking
her and yelling something. He
looks...worried. Sad—scared. Is that right?
‘The
hell…? Why are there three of you…?’ she’s barely able to
think to herself. ‘I…
What
are you saying? Are
you...okay? Don’t...scare
me, now…’
Her
eyes close.
“Rosaline!
Stay
awake! Oh, god!” he
screams, his shaky hands frantically searching for his phone in his
pocket. “Oh, god...WHERE
IS IT?!”
“You
lookin’ for yer phone, lad?” an Irish voice
echoes from the inner darkness of the house.
Vince’s
head acts on its own as it snaps towards the entrance of the house.
Footsteps
start echoey, but become more damp and solid as they reach
him. Vince
jumps to his feet, ripping
off his
red coat, tossing it over
Rosa to
blanket her.
“Who’s
there?!” he calls out, his
fists clenched. “Did
you poison that charm?!”
...
“Say
something! Where’s
my phone?!”
“Confiscated...”
A
bony hand clenches the edges of the door as
a skinny
man
in a full
brown
bear
cloak walks into
the daylight. He
has an ashy beard and a bald head, but his green
eyes
are sharp and determined.
Vince’s
fists shake in ire, his
teeth clenched.
That
man…there’s
no way. To do something so heinous.
He would’ve never expected it. To do that to someone…to
her.
‘It’s
unforgivable,’ Vince
roars
internally,
stepping
towards the man. ‘It’s...unacceptable!’
“Joel!
You’ve
got a lot of shit to answer for…BUT HARMING
KIDS?!”
he
shouts,
now
face-to-face with him.
“You
know my name? Don’t
know what to tell ya’,” the man says, staring
him down. “You’re
in
house.”
His
eyes meet the orange-haired girl slumped over on the ground in the
fetal position. “That
the ‘kid’?”
Before
Joel
knows it,
he’s
flung
into the front yard,
landing
soundly
feet.
Joel
looks
up, seeing Vince
slowly
walk towards him, noting
his
widened
eyes
enveloped
in
bloodlust
with a flat expression.
Joel
notes his clothing swaying in the wind, their
long, soft-looking material…
And
their.
“Oh,
Boyo,”
he says, unveiling
his toned
arms from
under the
cloak. “I
was waitin’ for one of ya!”
Joel
darts
over and unleashes
a devastating blow to Vince’s gut before
he can react.
Vince
coughs up the pain, hunching
over. The
man’s cold hands grab his messy hair tightly, keeping
him at bay. Joel
attempts to speak first
before knocking him out,
but
his tongue is almost bitten cleanly off by his own teeth.
An
uppercut by Vince. Joel
jumps back
consecutively,
giving
him enough distance
to
make sure his tongue is still
intact.
He
holds his jaw, still feeling the impressive sting from
the attack. First
he was flung in the matter of seconds and now this…?
“Nice
one, lad,” Joel says, fixing
his jaw. “Mind
tellin’ me why you’re at this
house again...?!”
“How
about you answer me first?!” Vince yells, slowly
approaching with
effort,
his legs’ soreness catching up to him. “What
the hell did you put in
that charm?! What
poison?!”
“Charm?
What charm?” he
asks, tilting
his head upwards.
“Didn’t
do
nothin’ to
no charm.” He
reaches into his cloak’s pocket, pulling
Vince’s phone out. “But
if she
poisoned…”
“I
thought you were just some low-life troublemaker…I
didn’t take you for a heartless monster!”
“Can’t
have you attracting the police
back
to this here place,” he says, tossing Vince’s phone deep
into the woods behind him. “You
ain’t gonna
answer my questions…then
get ready.”
Rosa
wakes up. The
ground feels soft and
warm,
and the sun
enhances the
comfort. Disoriented,
she stumbles on
to her feet, her
legs shaking as they push off of the lush, flowing tall grass. Her
softened eyes with
drooped eyelids follow their movement as the sun reflects
against the blades,
its
yellow light
surfing
like gold
liquid
in
an ocean of green.
Tepid
wind gently picks up her two
large shoulder curls, playing
with them.
Rosa
holds her softly
clenched hands up to her heart as she stands in the plains, her eyes
noting
the two large snow mountains at
either side. Looking
down at herself, she
notices that she’s
wearing a long, orange
dress, and
the world itself—even her own vision—has a light
tint of ginger. She
feels at ease...at peace. Her
eyes had never laid upon such beauty, she thinks.
It’s all so...tranquil. Silent. Her
eyes then catch something approaching from the horizon. A
group of people, or at least what looks like people to her. They
look like nothing more than ants in the distance.
‘Weird,’
she thinks. Her eyes have never worked this well before. The
people are holding
long,
thin instruments in their hands
as they ride atop horses. She
can feel the vibrations of the animals’
gallops intensifying.
“What
is this…?”
she asks herself.
She
feels a tug at her dress. A
gentle one.
Her
hands, for
reasons beyond her, reach
behind her and hold on to the fingers
that tug. Small,
cold
fingers.
Ones of a child. She
slowly turns her
head around to meet the figure, but
before she can...
a
voice cries out from
all directions faintly.
ll
bury you
“Who’s
that…?” Rosa asks, looking up at the sky.
”
a
little girl’s voice softly
calls out from behind her.
“Huh?”
Rosa
finally turns around...
Only
to face…
The
wooden floor.
Clutching
her head,
she
readjusts herself. Now on her knees,
her eyes squeeze shut from the pain.
‘I’m
wasting time…!’
Vince thinks through the pain. ‘I need to take
her to a hospital!’
“Forget
yer accomplice!
Focus
on me,”
Joel
yells out, beating
down on Vince. “Or
yer gonna regret it!”
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Rosa
rubs
her face, the pain in her head subsiding. She
gets up, barely able to balance herself as she stumbles
and lands against
the house’s hard wooden wall. Her
eyes adjust and
her brain is
able to
register what’s happening
in front of her: Vince
fighting for his life against
an
angry
Jarl.
Her
mind says ‘spring into action,’ but her body won’t allow that.
She can’t even form words properly yet, let alone move. All
she can do is watch and have faith in Vince’s combat abilities.
He’s a boxer after all, right? Joel’s
movements and strikes are almost inhuman. Coordinated to a T and
beyond
precise. Wherever he intends to make contact with his fists, elbows
or knees, he does so. Luckily,
Vince is able to block most
of those
attacks to a degree with palms and raised legs—but
he’s on the defensive.
“Spit
it out,”
Joel yells out. “You
with
the masked men?! The
men in coats?!
What are you doing back here?!”
“I
don’t know—AGH!—what
you’re talking about...man!”
“Your
getup
say otherwise!” he
screams in growing rage, throwing an elbow at Vince’s face.
Vince
dodges just in time, but his ankle bends, causing him to trip and
land on the ground hard, his forehead grazing against a sharp rock
that was hidden by the grass. Blood
quickly pools on his forehead as
he gets back on his feet, waiting for Joel to make the next move.
‘Good
thing I tucked away my sunglasses…’ he thinks, feeling them press
against his leg from within the pants pocket. ‘He
almost broke them…!’
Blinded
by adrenaline, pain and ire, Vince
clutches
carefully
in his hand while
concealing it behind his fingers. There’s
a pause between them both as they stare at each other, Joel unable to
see Vince’s eyes and its intentions as they’re masked by his
bangs.
Tensing
his body, Joel lunges at Vince, aiming to grab his arms and restrain
him. However,
once he’s close enough to see
his eye’s intentions, it’s too late. All
that’s visible are the
white bulbs as they hold
something deeply
uncomfortable for him.
Child-like
anticipation.
‘Is
that the ‘charm’ the little scut was mentioning…? When’d
he…?!’
The
crucifix is already centimeters away from Joel’s neck.
“Vi...nce!”
Rosa
barely manages to yell out.
Vince
stops in his tracks, looking in her direction as quickly as he can,
his
neck making a .
The
eyes that were previously displaying eagerness now soften and reveal
nothing but pure relief and joy.
He
doesn’t notice Joel’s
grasp on
his neck,
his hand inches away from his nape.
“Ro…—”
“Sleep.”
...“Bear
hunter, huh?”
“That’s
right, lass.”
“From
the trees though? Kinda cowardly, if you ask me.”
“Better
than gettin’ mauled
to death. That’s
how I got me arm danglin’ by the nerves
once.”
“Oh,
yeah?”
“Was
a sniper in the Vietnam
war. The best of the best.”
“Even
more cowardly.”
“Snipin’s
an art form, lass.”
Vince
rises
from the old,
dusty bed. The
sheets are cold, but the mattress is surprisingly warm. Faint,
yellow
candle
light illuminates the dark house, caressing
the darkness in oscillating
waves.
His
gaze meets multiple
strewn-about
objects as he turns his head; old
lanterns, board
games, cups
and the like. The
pain suddenly sets in. He
clenches his whole body, biting his lip as his eyes squint. Something
hard
and acidic moves
around in his mouth as his tongue naturally shifts. He
quickly spits it out on to his hand, observing
the dark,
crimson mush.
Flicking
it on to the ground, he
gets
up.
He
knows he was in pain not too long ago, but it’s all but gone now.
Some pressure on his forehead. His
digits trace the area, finding a cloth tightly
wrapped
around his
forehead. His
digits trace his face and, looking at them, he sees no blood.
‘What…happened?’
he
thinks, following
the faint sound of Rosa’s voice.
“Want
some
pipe?” Joel asks, handing Rosa his smoke
pipe.
“Dude, for the love of god,” she says,
taking the pipe. “Rephrase.”
“Sorry,
lass.”
Vince
follows
her voice until he
meets the kitchen, which is fairly
lit as
opposed to the rest of the house thanks to the large, opened window.
His
exhausted
eyes light up once they meet
her.
She’s
alright. She’s
fine. Smoking
a pipe, leaning back on a chair, her legs on top of the kitchen
table… The
world around him becomes all
but her as he walks towards her with
a smile
wider
and
warmer than
than
ever before.
“Oh,
hey…!” Rosa
says, addressing him. “Are
you alright?”
“Yeah…
I’m
just glad
okay. How
long was I out…?”
“About
an
hour or so.
Joel
patched you up.”
‘Joel?’
he
thinks,
turning
his attention to the bald
man sitting across from her.
“You…”
Vince
says under his breath, slowly marching towards him.
“Settle
down, lad,” Joel says, getting
up and backing away slightly. “I’m
sorry I attacked you like
that.
I mistook you all
for
someone else. That’s the truth. I swear it. Didn’t
know you two were so young, either. Forgive—”
“What?
‘Forgive’?!
Why
should I?! You
just go
around poisoning
people now?!
How
do I know you’re not trying to poison her again with
that pipe?!
Or
me?!”
“I
didn’t poison anyone.
Lad,”
Joel
says, pulling
a chair out from under the table. “Just
take a seat. I
don’t wanna have
to patch you up again.”
Vince
clenches his fists, glaring at him. The
fact that he cleaned him up and addressed
his injuries enrages
him… He
lets out a
accepting the offer to sit down. Sitting
on the chair, he scoots up, his
hands laying
on the table with clenched fists.
“Relax,
dude,”
Rosa says, puffing. “I
wasn’t poisoned. I can promise you that. Don’t
be so mad…”
‘Ain’t
like you at all...’
she thinks with
a light
blush.
“I—”
“I don’t want to hear what
have to say. Rosa, what happened?”
Rosa
clears her throat nervously. “Trust
me, I was just as massively pissed off as you were. But the dude
ain’t so bad. He
has no idea about the charm or
whatever. It
wasn’t poisoned, right…?”
“It wasn’t,” Joel says with a
slightly fed-up sigh.
“Dude
apologized so much I wished he didn’t so I could punch em’. He
made stew
too—I
helped, by the way—and we talked it over.”
“What’d
he say?”
“Uh...let him tell you. I kinda already
forgot,” she says, taking a drag from the pipe.
“Here,
lad,” Joel
says, placing
a warm bowl of stew in front of Vince. “Already
fed your one. Thought she looked frail. So do you, so eat up.”
“I
can’t eat this. Also, my
one?” Vince
asks, annoyed, taking the spoon from his hand abrasively. “Quit
it with the Irish slang, man.
I
don’t
understand any of it.”
“Your
girly. I
thought you’d understand, boyo,” Joel says, sitting across from
both of them. “You’re
Irish. Both’a
ya’, right?”
“I’m
not answering that. And she’s not my girlfriend!”
“What
he said! But
my
dad’s Scottish.
Mom was Cuban,” Rosa
says, passing the pipe
back to Joel.
“But
Irish, right?” Joel
asks, looking
at Vince while
taking
a drag. “You
look the part.”
“Pointless
question,”
Vince says, getting
up. “I
don’t want your soup. I don’t want your
chat-chat.
If you’re not gonna answer, we’re
leaving.”
“Lad,”
Joel
says, puffing
smoke. “I’m
askin’ for a reason.”
“What?”
Vince
asks, his
hands on the table.
“Let
me remind you that you almost killed me,” he says. “Just
sit
down and I’ll tell you.”
Vince
sighs.
He’s
beyond
irritated, but he
ultimately sits down once more.
“I’m
sorry I attacked you…”
“For
the love of god, not this,” Rosa says almost pleadingly. “We
won’t call the cops.”
“Do
you know
I attacked you?”
Vince
doesn’t answer, he just stares at him intently.
“The
colors...set me off. Sorry if that don’t sound convincing.
It’s
because
of the history of this house. It
once belonged to me and
me family,
you see.”
‘Man,
that stew was good,’ Rosa
thinks
after
downing the rest,
letting
out a satisfied
sigh
as she rests
her head on the
table, letting
the
comfort
of the food coma embrace her.
“PTSD?
Pfft...”
Vince says, adjusting
in
the chair. “Don’t
know how two kids set you off. We
were just gonna
have a look around. We
have nothing to do with...whatever you think we do.”
“I
know now. But
just ‘look around?’ Tall
tales, lad,” Joel says. “Your one told me everything.”
“She’s
not my ‘one’!” He
snaps his
gaze
to
Rosa. “You
just told him what
you were gonna do…?!”
She
shrugs, not
looking at him.
“You
aware of what happened her?”
Joel asks with
undertones of melancholy,
puffing once more. “Why
it was abandoned?”
“Tried
to know.
The
Realtor
couldn’t find
anything.”
“A’course
not,”
Joel
quickly
replies.
“Everyone
in this here town thinks it never had
anyone live in it. They
just see it as a hideout after the
incident
in
two thousand and one.”
“Incident?”
Vince asks, his
curiosity overpowering his personal
gripes.
“Did
someone sell drugs here or something?
Some
massive operation?”
“Fifty
children
murdered and
harvested
in
the basement.”
Vince
furrows
his eyebrows,
his
blood turning cold.
“What…?!”
“It
was after I lost the house to
the people responsible.”
“Fifty...children?!
How?!
Why?!”
“That’s
what we
tried to find…
But,
boy, I shouldn’t’ve. And
you shouldn’t either, lad.”
Vince’s
blood starts to boil at the
conjured,
suggested images and scenes from that “incident”.
“I
asked if yer
Irish ‘cause the journalist
at the time that
actually
did anything for the case
was
an acquaintance of mine. Fellow
Irish fellow. Looked
exactly like you.”
Vince’s his eyes widen.
“Wh...what was his name?”
He
leans in slightly. “Cian,
if
I recall.
Best
journalist in Maryland.”
“That’s...my
dad…!” Vince
unfolds his arms, leaning in as
well.
“You knew my dad?!”
“So,
you his
son, eh? Hard
to mistake those eyes for anyone else’s,”
he says, his
face reflecting on Vince’s blue marbles. “He
never told me had a son though.
Very
tight-lipped lad, he
was. But
my
intuition never lies. Somethin’
me and your father had in common.”
“What
relationship did you have with him...?!” he
asks, clenching
the table slightly.
“He
wanted nothing more than to bring the case to life. I was involved
somewhat in it, so he wanted to help me like his life depended on
it,”
he
says,
inhaling
smoke.
“Like
a detective. The
actual detectives at the time didn’t do jack
shite.
He
did what they didn’t most
of the time.”
Joel
exhales the
smoke slowly. “We
found out that the people responsible had ties to a Mongolian
cult. Told
‘im
they
were after me only—and
that was the truth.
But
Cian being Cian, he didn’t listen.
Until
one day....”
“He
just disappeared…?”
Vince
suggests
with
a muble.
“Yeah,
boy. You
knew?”
Rosa’s
ears perk up as she steals the bowl
of stew and spoon from Vince while he’s not looking.
“Not exactly… My dad…” he says
quietly, looking down at the table. “Left town, his job...and then
died of cancer.”
Joel drops his head down, shaking it
slowly. “Cancer? I never knew… I’m sorry, lad.”
Rosa, who was inches away from putting the
spoonful in her mouth, hesitates as she sighs through her nose,
placing the spoon back in the bowl and sliding it back to Vince.
“But that’s not right. Cian wouldn’t
just up n’ leave his job—having cancer, no less. Nothin’ ever
made him stop. Not without a reason. Journalism was his life. It was
scary how adamant he was on solving that thing—it was like the
mystery taunted him and he had a bone to pick with it.”
“Mom definitely said similar things about
him… But…she also said that he just woke up one day and decided
to hate his family, take all of his things and move out. She even
told me he claimed there was another woman. Then...a day or so
later...she was called by the police, stating that he died in a
motel. I never got to know him…but from how highly she speaks of
him despite what he supposedly did, I also find it odd.”
“How quickly did the police find out he
died?”
“I doubt my mom remembers...”
“Odd anyways,” Joel mutters, relaxing
his back on the chair.
“Why were you associated with him during
that event at all?” Vince asks, scooting up.
“I’ll get to that in a second...”
Vince squints in suspicion.
“Didn’t know your dad was so based,
Vince,” Rosa comments, derailing his train of thought.
“If he was here, he’d have brought to
justice what happened to me and my family already. Even if I begged
him not to, he would.”
“Wait...what...happened to your family?”
Vince asks hesitantly.
“He already told me…so...” Rosa says
with a sad and discomforted frown, getting up. “And ‘sides, I
gotta go pee. In the woods. For a while.”
Rosa walks out of the kitchen, but not
before retrieving Vince’s phone from her pocket, sliding over to
him. “Cleaned this up for you too. You owe me. Hope you’re
keepin’ track.”
Watching her leave, he’s filled with a
slight sense of dread about what he’s about to hear. Joel faces the
ceiling to recall.
A pause on his part, filling the room with
silence.
...
“I can’t tell you too much for your own
safety, lad,” Joel says with sincerity in his voice. “I like you
and your one. But I can tell you this…”
His eyes close as he remembers...
“I used to live here with my wife and
two daughters. They were all beautiful…precious to me. My oldest,
Agatha, looked just like your one in everything but the curls. Cute
little face, but one that could turn nasty in an instant if you
ticked her off. My youngest one, Christie...she was like a little
doll. Puffy cheeks...only eight years old. And my wife Merry…she
was like a gift sent from above.”
Joel clenches his pipe, but maintains his
cool as he puffs is, facing Vince.
“We were happy. Me and Agatha would go
bear hunting every Saturday.”
“That’s where you got the bear cloak?”
Vince asks, easing up.
“Right…” he struggles to say. “Only
issue is we kept getting mysterious letters from an unknown sender
asking us ta’ sell the house to them.” He looks over to Vince.
“Know what we did?”
Vince remains silent.
“Throw them all away as soon as they
arrived every Monday. What were they thinking? That they could buy a
part of our soul?”
“How much...money?” Vince asks
curiously.
“Hm?”
“How much were they offering…for the
house?”
“Three hundred thousand dollars in cash.”
Vince gulps.
“Until one night...when me, Merry and the
little ones were asleep… A group of people broke in.”
Vince furrows his eyebrows slightly. “What
did they look like?”
“Really askin’ me to hurt more, lad?”
Vince’s eyes sink down, mumbling a
“sorry”.
Joel inhales sharply, then exhales while
saying, “Red cloaks, white pants, and strange lookin’ red boots.
Mongolian, Cian told me. They wore white, upside-down demon masks.”
Vince looks down at his red coat, white
pants and red boots. ‘Oh...’
“What happened that night… I don’t
want to get into detail…”
“Don’t...don’t tell me.” Vince says
reassuringly, his pupils escaping to the left.
“Being his son...I think you get the
picture,” Joel snaps his pipe in half with his fingers. “Sorry
that I attacked you, lad. Again, sorry. I took you for one of them.”
“Yeah…I understand,” Vince says with
a sigh. “I’m so sorry that happened to you all…”
Vince’s gaze on the table slowly
intensifies until his eyes become white vessels of nothing more than
righteous indignation.
‘That dodgy look again…’ Joel thinks.
Vince catches himself as he thinks. ‘I
definitely shouldn’t tell him about dad’s Mongolian side of the
family. Then again, did dad already tell him?’
“So, why are you back here if it’s such
a painful place for you?”
“It’s our anniversary. I thought I’d
drop by for the first time in over a decade.”
Vince’s heart tugs at him with pleading
eyes.
“Now it’s time for you to explain to me
why you were trespassing.”
“Huh…? Rosa already told you, you
said,” Vince says, snapping back to reality.
“But why are here with her?”
“I was...just making sure she was
safe.”
Joel tosses the pipe out the window.
“Makes sense, then. Girly instantly fell unconscious.” He takes
out the crucifix from his cloak’s pocket, grabbing it by the string
as he holds it up to Vince. “You were right about one thing, this
here charm seems to have caused it somehow. Maybe she’s allergic to
metal? Don’t sell it.” He tosses it to Vince, who catches it by
the metal.
“It seem pricey though...”
Boy…”
“I won’t sell it, don’t worry. It’s
probably cursed or something.”
“You believe in curses, lad?”
“No. I’m agnostic.”
“Ah. You gonna keep it, then?”
“I’ll see… Maybe for now.”
“Right. Just don’t poke anyone with
it.”
“So you don’t have any idea how it got
here? Who it belongs to?” Vince asks, his face perfectly reflected
in half on the object as it lies still parallel to his eyes.
“No, lad. I’m Christian. If it were
mine, I’d be abandoned by God for blasphemy,” he says with a weak
chuckle. “You seem ta’ not be allergic. You can use it as a
weapon if need be.”
“I don’t think I want to do that again…
Sorry.”
“Keep it just in case, then.”
“What do you mean? In case of what?”
“You said you looked for the records of
this here house, yeah?”
“Yeah...?”
Joel takes a deep breath.
“...In
case they show up at your door.”
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