EMBERS
Hey everybody! Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up, we were experiencing some difficulties with the internet and I couldn't get it to work. Anyway, here's another chapter, hope you enjoy it. Thanks to everybody who reviewed and put this on alert!
He had meant to just feed on her, but now he was intrigued. She was fire encased in human form, and in the time they had been together, she had fallen for him. In hindsight, she had given herself too wholly to him. He toyed with her emotions, stoking the embers higher. He forgot that if you play with fire, you'll likely be burned.
Somehow, Scarlet and Mitchell had fallen asleep against one another, despite the crashes and roars coming from just inside the house. Annie woke them a little past dawn, when the screams had subsided. They went into the house and were horrified by the destruction that the werewolf had wrought. George was curled on his side, naked, on a pile of wreckage. Mitchell covered his friend with his own coat and carried him to his bedroom while Annie and Scarlet made a start on clearing up the mess. Annie made them all a cup of tea when it was time for a break. Scarlet was grateful for the hot drink, finishing it quickly.
"Could have used a shot of whiskey." She said with a bitter chuckle before returning to work.
"Next time." Mitchell promised with a tired laugh.
"I'd rather not have a repeat of this next month, thank you very much," Scarlet said. "What happens next time? Will he transform here again?"
"I doubt it," Mitchell said. "George will be mortified when he sees what he did."
"Then what will you do?"
"I don't know. With the isolation room out of action, we're going to have to find somewhere safe for him to transform," Mitchell picked up a chunk of what used to be a table. "Somewhere where he can't hurt anybody." Scarlet picked the shredded cushions off the couch, packing them into the black bin bags. It looked like the werewolf had been sharpening his claws on the walls.
"Should we take him up breakfast in bed or anything?" Annie asked. "He's been through a lot."
"Nah, he's fine," Mitchell said. "This happens every month."
"I guess you have more experience in dealing with this than we do," Scarlet admitted, picking up a couple of bin bags of trash. "Where do I put these?" Before Mitchell could answer, the phone rang.
"Shit," Mitchell groaned, picking it up and answering it. "Hello?"
"Who is it?" Annie asked curiously. Mitchell raised a finger, shushing her. "Who?" she demanded. Mitchell covered the mouthpiece of the phone with a hand before he whispered 'Owen'.
"Who's Owen?" Scarlet hissed to Annie.
"My fiancée!" she grinned.
"Uh, today?" Mitchell continued speaking to the landlord. "Actually, today isn't great, do you think we could postpone until-" Annie slammed her foot into his shin with all her strength. "Ouch! Actually, today is fine. You'll be round at 10? Great, see you then," He said before hanging up. "Fuck, Annie, that was totally unnecessary." Scarlet lifted the bags of trash again.
"Mitchell? What do I do with these?" she reminded him.
"Uh, Owen will be here in a little under an hour. Just throw them in my room until we can figure something out." He said, and Scarlet started carting the bags into Mitchell's bedroom.
"Hey." Annie said gently as George trundled down the stairs.
"Hi," He responded. "Oh, no... Where's all our stuff? What did it do?"
"We've salvaged what we can. But there's about ten bin bags of crap and wreckage stashed in my bedroom. I'm sensing a trip to IKEA," Mitchell paused to shoot him a glare. "And you know my feelings about that."
"Shut up, Mitchell." Scarlet said, glancing at George apologetically, before returning to her sweeping.
"Look, why don't you guys go out," George offered. "Let me finish up here. It's the least I can do."
"We're kind of on the clock here, Georgie." Scarlet said impatiently.
"What? Why?"
"Owen rang." Annie grinned.
"Owen who?" George asked.
"Owen! Your landlord! My fiancée," Annie paused. "Ex fiancée." She corrected herself.
"He's coming round. In about... Now." Mitchell said, glancing at the wall clock.
"He's coming here? Why?" George demanded.
"He's over from Saudi and wants to meet us." Mitchell explained, draping an orange blanket over the couch to hide the claw marks and lack of cushions.
"Well, you guys are his longest staying tenants. All the others have found it, er, strangely unwelcoming." Annie said innocently.
"Why didn't you put him off?!" George cried shrilly.
"I tried. But she kicked me in the shin!" Mitchell said defensively. "The shin, George!"
"Sorry, can we focus?" Scarlet cried.
"You're not going to be here when he arrives?" George asked disbelievingly, glaring at Annie.
"Of course! Obviously I'll hide, he's not gonna see me," she said, waving off his concern. "Okay. I've written a list of questions for you to ask him." She said, handing Mitchell a small notepad. He flipped it open.
"'Are you screwing Janey Harris?'" he read aloud.
"She always fancied Owen. Trust me, if she'd known when I died, she'd have been here before the ambulance crew." Annie said. Scarlet stifled a chuckle.
"Aww, 'Has my sister had a baby?'" Mitchell continued with a sappy grin.
"Cos they've been trying for ages. I blame her husband, Robin. Works for the Post Office." She confided.
"Oh, my God, has everyone taken Stupid Pills?" George demanded. "This is Annie's ex -Annie's ex, who buried her. She can't be here," he cried, pointing at her. "You can't be within ten miles of here!"
"Well, I can't have him in the house and not see him. For Christ's sake, we were engaged!" the ghost defended.
"And can you imagine, if he sees you? The effect it will have on him, the danger it'll put us all in?"
"This isn't about our safety. You've lost your lover, and now you can't bear the thought of me seeing mine." Annie spat cruelly.
"That's... That's... How dare you?!" George cried.
"Look, if she stays upstairs, what's the worst that can happen?" Mitchell said.
"I'll remind you of that as the crowds gather with torches and pitchforks. No, I'm sorry, we have to protect the household." George insisted.
"You have just smashed up the household!" Annie shouted accusingly.
"It wasn't me..." George whined. "Why don't we ask Scarlet what she thinks?"
"I didn't realise I had a say in what goes on around here." She said.
"Well, you do." George said. Scarlet knew he wasn't awfully fond of her, and figured he'd come to regret those words.
"Well, as long as he doesn't see her, I guess." She said, and George's eyes narrowed at her, but before he could respond, there was a knock at the door.
"Oh, that's that settled. Annie?" Mitchell prompted, and the ghost nodded.
"Okay, and remember...Janey Harris." Annie said before disappearing up the stairs.
"Crazy, you're all crazy..." George cursed as Mitchell went to open the door. "Ask about the clanky tap. No, I will. Just, just, just leave all of the talking to me. Now, remember, we're two guys renting a house, it's, it's the most natural thing in the world. We just have to be totally and completely normal." He squealed.
"Yeah, good luck with that." Mitchell said, before throwing open the door. Scarlet toed a conspicuous pile of wreckage under the couch. She heard them exchanging greetings.
"Nice to meet you, Owen. This is George." Said Mitchell.
"Hi, how's it going?" Asked the attractive brunette, stepping into the house.
"Yes." George responded intelligently.
"I'm Scarlet, nice to meet you." She said, offering him a hand to shake at his questioning look.
"Owen," he said, shaking her hand, grip tight. "Where's all the furniture?" he asked, glancing around.
"Um... Oh, um, we wanted a more, uh, minimalist life. It's so easy to get seduced by all the clutter and debris of 21st-century living, isn't it? Isn't it? To think having this sofa or that, uh, chair will bring you happiness when really, shouldn't we be striving for something more spiritual? More...Zen?" rambled George, Mitchell and Scarlet rocked uncomfortably on the balls of their feet.
"Oh. I thought maybe you were going to redecorate and didn't want to get the furniture all painty." Volunteered Owen.
"Yeah, that would have made more sense." Scarlet said dryly, glaring at the werewolf. Suddenly there was a thump from upstairs.
"George, why don't you go and see what that was?" Mitchell suggested.
"Yes. Thank you, Mitchell." George said, grateful for the excuse to run away. He scampered up the stairs and Scarlet wished she could flee as well.
"Can I get you a drink, Owen?" Mitchell offered. "Tea, coffee, there's a couple of beers in the fridge?"
"Actually I wouldn't mind a beer. I'm still on Saudi time." Owen explained. Mitchell walked into the kitchen.
"Have a seat, Owen," Scarlet said, waving him toward the couch. Owen sank onto the bare springs of the couch. He peeled back the blanket Mitchell and Scarlet had hastily thrown over it and raised an eyebrow at the springs. He shot a quizzical look at Scarlet. "Don't ask." She said with a smirk.
"So, you a friend of Mitchell's?" Owen asked. Scarlet bit her lip, remembering Mitchell's words. They had to pretend there was nothing between them.
"George's, actually." She said. Owen peered at her curiously, and she knew she had taken too long to answer.
"Er, right," Owen said, glancing into the kitchen, where Mitchell was rummaging through the refrigerator. "Anyway, is there anything that needs to be done around the house?"
"I think George mentioned something about a clanky tap in the kitchen?" Scarlet said unsurely.
"Oh?"
"Most of the time it's fine," Mitchell said, handing a bottle of beer to Owen and cracking open one of his own. "Eventually the water comes through, but it's kind of driving George nuts." He chuckled, clinking bottles with Owen with a mutter of 'cheers'.
"No worries, I'll take a look. Like I said, it's such a relief having you guys here. It didn't work out with the last lot of people..." Owen looked at his feet bitterly. "I think they heard about what happened and let their imaginations run away with them," At Scarlet's blank stare, he continued. "You do know? About my fiancée?"
"A little. Just what the estate agent said." Mitchell said before Scarlet could say anything.
"Yeah, I've hardly been back since. You can imagine, it's still kind of weird...being here." Owen said, swigging his beer.
"What happened, exactly? If you don't mind me asking." Mitchell said.
"We'd literally just moved in, we were still living out of boxes. And it was dark, I hadn't sorted out the wiring yet. And she was at the top of the stairs and...I don't know, they said she must have..." Owen seemed to be overwhelmed with emotion, and he took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing. "Fallen awkwardly or something..."
"What was she like?" Mitchell asked quietly.
"Annie? Oh, she was kind, funny. Cleverer than she thought she was..." Owen smiled fondly to himself. "And she was mine." Scarlet sobered at the raw emotion in his voice. Out of Owen's view, her arm curled protectively around Mitchell's waist.
"I believe people can leave an echo, in a place where they were," Mitchell began. "I know the tenants before us said they could detect something. Maybe that's what it was."
"They said it was creepy." Owen said, sounding offended.
"It's not creepy. It's good, it's happy. We like it." Mitchell said. Scarlet didn't know what to say, so she remained silent. Suddenly George appeared at the bottom of the stairs, holding a broom.
"What was it?" Owen asked, referring to the thump from earlier.
"What?" George asked, before remembering that he was sent upstairs to investigate the noise. "Oh, um...it was, it was a pigeon."
"A pigeon?" repeated Own disbelievingly.
"Must have left a window open." Scarlet observed, trying to take the attention away from George, who was clearly flustered.
"Well, have you got rid of it?" asked the landlord.
"I-I killed it." George said. Mitchell spat out his mouthful of beer.
"You-you killed it?" he sputtered.
"With a shoe." George said. Mitchell and Scarlet glanced at each other in disbelief. Mitchell's lips glistened with beer, and he hurriedly dragged his sleeve across his mouth before looking back at Owen. The landlord's jaw had dropped, and he stared at George in undisguised horror and disgust.
"You know what?" Owen said, placing his bottle on the ground and standing hurriedly. "I should get going."
"Yeah." Mitchell said in relief with a wry chuckle.
"Really? Aw." George said unconvincingly.
"It was lovely to meet you, Owen." Scarlet said, silently apologising for George's odd behaviour.
"Thanks for the drink. Any problems, phone me." Owen said, making a beeline for the door.
"Yeah. Like I said, we're really happy here." Mitchell said. As soon as Owen was beyond the threshold of the door, Scarlet slammed the door shut and thumped her head against it repeatedly.
"How'd you do that, stay so calm?" Mitchell demanded of the werewolf.
"Okay, shut up." George mumbled, flushing red.
"You're a spy, aren't you? You've clearly had training, because the way you held it together, it was chilling," Mitchell crowed mockingly. Annie sullenly made her way down the stairs, and stopped in front of the bottle on the ground. "He loved you very much, Annie. The way he talked about you... You made him very happy." Mitchell said.
"I'm assuming that's our dead pigeon?" Scarlet said.
"Did you ask about the tap?" George asked. Mitchell glared at them in frustration, silently telling them both to shut up.
"Is this his?" Annie asked.
"What?"
"This bottle," Annie said, still not turning to meet their eyes. "Is it his?"
"Yeah." Mitchell said quietly, wrapping an arm around Scarlet's waist, his own bottle forgotten. Annie lifted Owen's bottle into her arms and pressed her lips to the mouth. Scarlet saw Annie's shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs, and had to restrain the urge to run to her side and comfort her. Suddenly Annie rent-a-ghosted out of the room, leaving Mitchell, George and Scarlet standing, silently mourning everything Annie had lost. Before long, it was time for them to go to work and they readied themselves in silence.
BH:UK
Mitchell stood in the closet, waiting like a predator for Scarlet to walk past. As she did, his hand shot out and grasped her arm, yanking her into the closet with him. She giggled, seeing who it was, and slammed the door shut behind them. He pulled her close, winding his arms around her waist and crushing his lips to hers.
"Eager, are we?" she smirked, threading her fingers through his curly hair.
"Shut up." He responded, kissing her deeper. After seeing Owen's despair at losing Annie, he needed Scarlet's reassurance. He buried his face in her shoulder, desperate for comfort that he would never admit to needing.
"Mitchell?" she called unsurely. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he lied. "I just missed you." Scarlet raised a doubtful eyebrow. He pressed their lips together again and suddenly the door was flung open and George burst in.
"George!" they cried in unison.
"What do the two of you think you're doing?" George demanded as Scarlet and Mitchell stumbled out of the closet. "You're lucky it was me and not somebody else!" he frowned at them disapprovingly before tossing a pile of towels at Mitchell. Mitchell fumbled with them to keep them in a neat pile.
"You're right George, we should be more careful." Scarlet said, shuffling away from Mitchell as he tried to wind an arm around her waist while balancing the ever increasing pile of towels with the other arm.
"Yeah, whatever. Listen, I'm going to that thing later, the memorial thing, for Lauren," George said. "You want to come?"
"Um, I don't know..." Mitchell said.
"Come on, it'll be nice. Well, not nice so much as... horrible," George glanced at him suspiciously. "I thought you were friends."
"Not really. A bit. Towards the end." Mitchell admitted.
"What about you, Scarlet?"
"No way, we hated each other." She said, feeling bad for speaking ill of the dead. For some reason, Lauren's name was irritating in her head, as though it were reminding her of something she would rather forget. She was startled out of her thoughts by the arrival of Becca.
"George," she said in greeting. "Hi, Mitchell." She smiled flirtatiously up at him. Scarlet scowled.
"Hello, Becca." She said pointedly. The blonde nodded pleasantly at her, but Scarlet was immediately irritated by the 'insincere' smile.
"I need three pillow-cases, please. Mrs Nixon's just vommed up her fisherman's pie." Becca confided. Scarlet's lip curled in disgust and George emerged from the linen closet.
"Thank you for sharing." Mitchell groaned.
"You've changed your shampoo," George observed. "It's minty. Normally you're vanilla-y." Becca frowned.
"How do you know that?!"
"I've just got a good sense of smell." George said flippantly, handing her the pillowcases she requested.
"Erm, do you like it?" Becca asked awkwardly.
"Yes, you smell like a Polo," emboldened by their laughter, George continued. "Have you got a hole?" that comment wiped the grins off their faces.
"I'll, uh, see you later, yeah?" Becca said, intimately brushing past Mitchell. Scarlet's lip curled again.
"Shit, are you interested in her?" Mitchell demanded.
"No. I don't know. Why, are you?" George asked.
"Me?" Mitchell gasped. He glanced at Scarlet and saw her disapproving glare. "God, no. I mean, she's nice, but..." Scarlet's eyes narrowed at him with a look that clearly said he was in trouble. "If you're interested in her, I could..." Mitchell trailed off and George shot him a dirty look. "Oh, come on, it's not like you get interested in people every day. I don't want to discourage it."
"She won't be interested in me." George said, waving him off.
"I'll ask. Do you want me to ask?" Mitchell offered.
"No, no! Christ, this is so playground." George squealed, voice even more high-pitched than usual.
"Well, welcome to being a bloke." Mitchell said with a chuckle, and Scarlet rolled her eyes.
"Why are so anxious to pair her off with me?" George demanded defensively.
"I'm not trying to pair you off, that's... That's daft," he paused. "Let me talk to her. You see, I can actually talk to women without weeping or setting fire to myself."
"Okay, I'll talk to her," growled Scarlet possessively. "You aren't going anywhere near that cheap little-"
"I don't know," George interrupted before Scarlet could insult Becca further. "Let me think about it."
"Good for you, mate." Scarlet said. She glanced at Mitchell, who appeared to be nursing a trembling hand.
"Oh, yeah...have you seen my phone?" George asked before Scarlet could see to Mitchell.
"No." the pair of them chorused. With that, the werewolf left, pushing a trolley laden with clean sheets and towels.
"Mitchell, are you alright?" Scarlet asked before she could be distracted again.
"Fine," he said, a little too quickly for Scarlet's liking. She moved in to embrace him one last time and he pulled away with a look of panic. "N-no!" he yelped before streaking down the hallway, away from her. She tried to swallow her hurt and confusion, knowing that Mitchell did occasionally blow hot and cold. She would have been mortified to find out that her rejection had been observed by a figure in the shadows.
DUN DUN DUNNNNNN!
Anyway, I'll have the next chapter up for you as soon as I can. Don't forget to review and tell me what you think of the story. Got any suggestions or criticism? I want to hear it!
