The Angry Flame
By Divamercury
Chapter 12
"Ian, are you all right?" I asked, reaching up to examine his shoulder. He drew back involuntarily. I jumped back, and something like guilt clouded his eyes.
"It's okay, Ian, just relax," I said, and he obeyed. I pulled him into the building and up the stairs to my apartment. When we reached it, I ushered him inside and made him sit down.
"Take off your coat," I said, and he removed the long, heavy trench coat and draped it over the back of his chair. As I had suspected, there was a bullet wound in the front and back of his left shoulder. Good, the bullet had exited. I looked around to find some supplies with which to clean the wounds.
"Thank you for being so concerned, Lady Sara, but it really isn't necessary for you to go to the trouble–"
"Ian, the least I can do is help you with this after what you've done for me tonight. Now quit trying to be the invincible assassin and let me take care of you," I said, cutting him off. He didn't challenge me, so I brought what I had found, which included some alcohol and various types of gauze, and came closer to him to apply them. Again he drew back.
"Ian, what is it that you have against me touching you?" I asked, a little hurt.
He didn't want to reply; that was obvious. He said nothing, and I couldn't possibly hazard a guess to what he was thinking. It was almost like he didn't think it was right for him to come in contact with me physically. Nevertheless, I continued to do so. He needed my help, no matter what he thought to the contrary.
We didn't speak for some time after I finished, and the silence that filled my apartment was tense and incredibly thick. The only sounds in the entire room were the occasional splashes and glugs of liquids being poured and periodical hisses and groans of pain from Ian. When I had finished, Ian broke the silence.
"Thank you, Lady Sara. I should return to Irons; now is not the time to anger him," he said quietly, and before I could stop him he opened my window, climbed out onto the fire escape and vanished. I was sad to see him leave, and I was a bit frustrated because he still hadn't told me what he kept trying not to tell me. Exasperated, I got ready for bed and fell into a (for once) dreamless sleep.
* * *
The next evening I decided to leave for the Angry Flame earlier than usual because I wanted to do some prying around the bar. As luck would have it, an employee that worked directly for the big boss, Gerald East himself, flagged me down.
"Mr. East said that he wanted to speak to you about the events of the previous evening," the lackey said. "He wants to see you immediately."
"Thanks," I said. "Where's his office?"
After being pointed in the right direction, I reached the door to his office and knocked.
"Come in" was the reply muffled by the door.
I opened the door and stepped inside, facing Gerald East. He was a heavy-set gray-haired man of approximately 45 with few wrinkles and an intelligent-seeming countenance. His height was impossible to determine because of the way he was seated at his desk.
"Ms. Pezzini?" he inquired in a clear-cut voice.
"Yes. Mr. East? I was told that you wished to speak to me."
"Quite so."
Quite so? Jeez, I hope this is over fast. So I have time to go puke before my set.'
"I just wanted to express my condolences about your attack last night. I am doing everything in my power to stop the heathen that has targeted my business and myself, and I am thankful that this time he was unsuccessful in his terrible plans. Rest assured, Ms. Pezzini, I intend to have thisthis creature apprehended by the authorities."
"Well, I thank you for your concern, but I assure you that I am fine. I have no doubt that this evil person will be captured. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go–puke'–prepare for my set. Thanks again, Mr. East." Saying this, I exited the office.
Well, that was different. I wonder' My thoughts trailed off.
My performance was mediocre at best, because I had other thoughts on my mind. At least, until I snapped out of my euphoria and saw the two people I would never have wanted to see in the Angry Flame
Kenneth Irons and Ian Nottingham.
OH MY GOD!' my brain screamed. What would Ian think of me if he saw me here? I frankly didn't give a damn what Irons thought of me, with or without the Angry Flame in the equation, and was thankful that my set was over.
Time flies when you're in torment,' I quipped to myself. Taking a closer look I noticed that they were sitting too far away for real recognition and I leapt off the runway at the speed of light just to make absolutely sure they couldn't identify me, bolting into the dressing room. Trying to bring my pulse down a few notches back to its usual rate, I took several deep breaths. Ciara dashed in at my heels. I was about to greet her in my usual fashion for the first time that night, because she hadn't been at the bar to meet me like she usually was. She shook her head, signaled for quiet with a finger to her lips, and dragged me deeper into the labyrinth of clothes racks and materials that was the dressing room. She was clearly terrified, and I thought that it was about my attack, that she was scared that the murderer was after her next
Well, I was partly right.
