DISCLAIMER: See Chapter One for proper disclaimers. On with the story! Once again, I thank June Birdie, my beta reader, for working so hard with me on my chapters.
(Tristan's POV)
I knew perfectly well that Amy didn't hit herself with the car. I just wonder what else this girl will do in order to get privacy. But, I wouldn't allow her to suffer on her on with her injuries at its worse. So, I went in about five minutes later, when Lancelot and Roxie joined the others at watching the movie. I went into the kitchen beforehand and grabbed some ice and a kitchen towel, along with some bandages, gauze pads and ointment for the minor cuts on her arms and knuckles.
Amy's little creep was waiting at the door when she went out for a cigarette. Thankfully, Tiny was around when the creep was about to knock Amy on the head with a pipe he had found before Amy came out. But before Tiny was able to step into the fight, Amy fought back and managed to knock him out first. Tiny had called for Roxie, who was waiting along with Lancelot and me at the bar. The three of us came out and Lancelot wanted to kill the kid. But, I, being the silent one, held my brother-in-arm back, silently praying to the gods for a swift and precise punishment for hurting Amy.
As I cracked the door, Amy had fallen sleep on the bed; praises to the gods that she had been careful with her cuts and her bruises. I crept quietly to the bed, making sure not to make any noises as I got to the bed. As I sat on the bed, I made sure that I didn't crush her with my weight. I placed the items I brought with me to my left as I contemplated with pulling Amy into my lap.
Finally, I had to lie down in order to get Amy within a reasonable way for me to get to her injuries without looking like a pervert…here goes nothing.
I must have pushed down on something, because I ended up falling off the bed, my head landing on her duffel bag. I rubbed my head with one hand while my other hand…what's this? I pull out a leather pouch. Before I opened it, I heard Amy muttered something. I strained my ears to hear what she was saying.
"Kyle? Don't forget about Dad's birthday party tomorrow night…it's at Parkingston's at 9 o'clock," she said with a sigh.
Who was this 'Kyle'? But, she did mention a birthday party for her father at this 'Parkingston's' place. SO…this guy had to be either a loved one or one of her kin. Shaking my head for a moment, I opened the pouch to reveal pictures.
Roxie, when we first got to her apartment, showed us everything we needed to know about the future, including pictures. Anyway, I looked through the photos; underneath them were words that described each individual picture. On one of them, the words said, "Mom, Dad, Amy and Kyle: NYC '91." I looked at the picture more carefully: so this 'Kyle' was her brother. The boy seemed about eight or nine years old…and he looked just like Gawain when he was younger.
I flipped through the pouch, pausing to glance at each picture. It seemed that Amy kept these pictures in order to keep her focus on her assignments. Finally, I got to where I only saw Amy and an older man. "Amy and Uncle Marc: Uncle Marc's birthday, '00" the caption read. I flipped to where I found the last picture of Kyle and Amy together. Under that photo, it read, "Amy and Kyle: Amy's graduation from sixth grade, '98." I look up from the pouch to a sleeping Amy. If Amy was about 20 summers…then this was taken about eight years prior. Her family must have disowned her or she left them or…
"Che cosa state facendo con quello?" a whisper came from Amy's lips…yet it was in a language I couldn't understand.
Amy opened her eyes, red from being exhausted and bloodshot from her drinking…yet, she didn't look drunk.
"What are you doing with that, Tristan?" she repeated her question, this time in common tongue.
So, she had spoken in another language and realized that I wasn't able to understand what she was saying. I guess she heard me turning the pages on her photo pouch.
"Looking at this," I said as I held the photo pouch up a bit.
"Put it away," she said as she turned her head, forgetting that her right forearm was bruised for the moment.
I looked up with a confused look. She wanted me to put it away? Why, I wonder.
"And the reason to put this away would be…?"
"Too much agony…I really don't want to talk about it at all."
I continued to stare at Amy as I got back on the bed, finally able to patch her injuries up. As I did her arm, my mind wondered back to what she had said: she really didn't want to say much…then again, I was very curious about her family…and what happened to them.
"C'mon, lass…how bad it be to you?"
"…because the drunk driver that killed my family wasn't just anyone. He was the son of one of my uncle's enemies. This man owns a guild himself: he's the leader of the 'Black Dogs Guild'. His son wasn't even drunk to begin with…he was as sober as you and I…"
"Sober? I only drank four beers…you had 8 shots of 'vodka', a shot of this…this 'Captain Morgan's' drink, a beer…and a 'wine cooler'. I think you're drunk more than I am…" I stated, listing what she had.
"It would take me about 12 shots of vodka, five beers, and three wine coolers to get my sorry, freaking arse drunk as a mule. Besides, the 8 shots that I had? Half of it was Shirley Temples, just without the coloring. Hayley knows me pretty well: her twin is in my uncle's guild," Amy stated as she leaned up to a sitting position and turned to face me.
"You keep mentioning this 'guild' of your uncle's. I'd like to know more about it," I said as I shifted so that I was on my stomach, looking up at Amy.
With a sigh and her shifting so that she was on her back, she began to tell me of this guild, known as the 'Blackbird Society', which was named after a knight that I don't know, named Sir Edwin Blackbird.
A/N: Ah, we get to get a glimpse of Amy's past here. More to come shortly. Please R+R.