A/N: I am SO incredibly sorry for allowing this story to lapse so long! (Falls down on knees and begs forgiveness.) Life just became crazy busy and then my computer crashed - full on, out of order crash. But I'm back! I love writing Rory and Stephen and am so happy to be able to do this again! Thanks to all who reviewed and stuck with this story! I hope to never disappoint you again!
Chapter 7: Once More unto the Breach
"Is that supposed to be supper," I asked, staring forlornly at the box of donuts. Callum stood there… smiling. I was certain he hadn't stopped smiling all day.
"Why not? Donuts are perfect for every occasion."
It wasn't that I didn't like donuts. I loved practically every food group, but since I'd moved in, it had been almost impossible to get real food. Though I loved to cook – and happened to rock at it – Stephen and Callum had no idea how to buy anything resembling an ingredient. Mostly, they ate cereal and takeout. I never thought I'd actually get tired of Chinese.
Rolling my eyes, I returned to my book. The Elias Townsend volume had finally arrived and Thorpe had brought it by this morning when he'd come to "babysit" me.
"Anything useful," Callum asked, sitting down two cups of steaming tea as he joined me on the couch.
"Sort of. It does mention the Rites of Demeter, but not really in enough detail. It mostly talks about the history."
"Nothing about the stones or the chalice?"
"Not yet."
I was trying, really trying to get lost in the words on the page, but I could practically feel Callum smirking beside me. "What," I asked, just a tiny bit of venom in my voice.
"I was just wondering if Stephen enjoyed his birthday present."
"Huh?"
"You know what I mean. I got home this morning, saw your room was empty and freaked… only to find you'd had a sleepover with Stephen. Guess you thought the books you got him weren't enough?"
"Callum!"
He laughed out loud as my cheeks reddened. "I'm pretty certain Stephen hasn't been shagged since I've known him. It was probably the best birthday present he's ever had."
"Callum! Seriously?! It didn't go that far."
"Why not? You had the entire flat to yourselves."
"I just… This is so none of your business. And… wait, did you say 'got home this morning?' As in you were out all night? With Boo?"
Now it was his turn to look uncomfortable. He shifted nervously in his seat, swallowing hard. "Things got a little heated last night."
"Uh-huh," I prompted, putting the book down and turning to face him. I didn't mention that Boo had left me about fifty text messages today claiming to have something huge to tell me tonight. Maybe I could pry it out of Callum first.
"We were both really drunk… and her parents are out of town on business."
"Uh-huh."
"And… and I stayed over."
"And stayed over is code for…" I was practically bouncing in my seat now and Callum wouldn't meet my eyes.
"We hooked up."
"Seriously?! I can't believe it! How did it happen? What did you say?"
Callum jumped off the couch at that, backing up and holding his hands up between us to ward me off. "I am not a fifteen year old girl, Rory. This isn't share time. I'm just… I'm freaking out. Boo's been calling me all day and I have no idea what to say to her."
"What do you mean? You slept with her. I think she already knows how you feel."
Callum rolled his eyes. "It was a hook up, Rory. Not a marriage proposal."
"No. Don't start. Don't pretend you don't care about her. I know you do."
"Of course I do! That's why this can't happen!"
Now I was completely confused. Callum was growing more agitated by the second and I had to work to calm my voice. "What do you mean? You can tell me." Callum didn't respond at first, just continued pacing. "Don't tell me you're scared of commitment or something. That's like the oldest line in the book."
"I'm not scared of commitment, Rory. I hate it."
In response to this, my eyes widened and I tried to convey an understanding face so he'd continue.
"I made a commitment once, to sports. I loved it. I trained constantly. I knew what my life would be like in ten years and I couldn't wait. And then it was all gone – in the blink of an eye – and I learned that losing something hurts a lot worse when you love it. You want to know what would happen if I got with Boo? Things would be nice at first and I'd fall in love with her even more than I already am. And then, one day she'll wake up and wonder why she's with a loser like me when she could have anyone. And then she'll be gone… my future ripped away from me once again. I won't go back to that, Rory. I won't put my whole heart into one thing again. I can't."
"You don't know that's what will happen. She likes you, Callum. Really likes you. And she deserves better than to be your one night stand. Tell her how you feel. Take it slow. I know you guys can work, so just get over your fear and talk to her!"
"And you know all this from your vast knowledge of human relationships?"
Truthfully, I didn't know anything about relationships. Jerome was my first boyfriend, and I succeeded in horribly breaking his heart. And Stephen… I have no idea where Stephen and I are right now.
"Just trust me. Talk to her. You can tell her all this and she'll understand."
Finally, Callum returned to the couch with me and we both sat there in our respective silences for a moment. All this relationship-defining advice was exactly what I wanted to talk about with Stephen. Last night had been… wow! But he didn't exactly jump for joy when I proclaimed my love and after Callum's interruption, we weren't able to get back on topic. All I knew was that I'd never felt this way about anyone and I desperately needed to talk to him about it.
"So, who was Stephen on the phone with this morning," Callum asked, effectively changing the subject.
"This morning? I have no idea."
"Oh, it must have been while you were in the shower… recovering from last night." I sent a hard punch right into his ribs, but he just laughed.
"It was probably just Thorpe or Freddie," I supplied, picking up my book again.
"Yeah, probably. He just seemed really upset."
That got my attention, but before I could ask further questions, a small trill issued from Callum's phone, indicating a text message, and we both jumped.
"It's Stephen," Callum explained, his face furrowing in confusion. "He wants us to meet him at a club."
"A club? Ghost related or Sid and Sadie?"
"Don't know."
Stephen had been gone most the day talking to the last few contacts he could think of and Boo had been hitting up underground magic shops we'd found on the internet. Apparently, things had finally gotten interesting.
Jumping up, I ran to my bedroom to change. Not that I had what could pass as club-wear, but I couldn't just walk in wearing sweats.
"You know were not going there to dance, right," Callum called from the living room as I shimmied into a white lace dress – an old one of Boo's. It was a little longer on me, but I had to admit, my butt looked pretty hot.
"I'm almost never let out of this flat. Let a girl live a little."
We took the tube, stepping out onto a street crowded with people, and Callum took my hand in his as we shuffled through. As the club grew closer, I started to feel the first rumblings of worry.
Why was Stephen calling us to a club on a Friday night, where there was a lot of people who might recognize me? What was Stephen doing in a club in the first place? It all seemed very odd and I suddenly found myself wishing we'd called Stephen and asked questions.
"This is the place," Callum explained as we found ourselves out front of a black building with a line of people already snaking down the sidewalk. Callum pulled me after him as he walked up to the bouncer, flashing a British Gas card and making up some story about inspecting pipes. The bouncer flashed me a confused look, but nodded us in.
We were immediately consumed by dancers. People ranging from normal to goth to weird flailed and jived around us, causing us to bump into each other. Callum's arm snaked around my waist, holding me close as we pushed our way through the crowd.
"Do you see Stephen," I asked, but I could hardly hear my voice over the music. Callum let go when we'd finally made it to the bar in the back and we both stood on our toes, searching for any sign of dark hair and glasses.
Then I felt hands on my shoulders. The hands slowly made their way down my arms before encircling my waist and pulling me in close. My first thought was a mix of shock and pleasure that Stephen was being this open – because who else but Stephen would be holding me like this.
But my next thought was the realization that the arms around me were not Stephen's.
"Fancy meeting you here," Sid drawled, his lips grazing my ear.
I jumped and Callum lunged for him. I saw the ash tray being raised up in the air seconds before it connected with Callum's head. Sadie stood there smiling as Callum slumped onto the bar, barely holding on to consciousness.
"Pretty fab place we've found here, wouldn't you say, Darling," Sid asked, one hand sliding down my thigh and up again. I struggled, attempting to elbow him in the face like Stephen had taught me or kick him in the shin, but he held me too tightly.
"Oh, don't fret," Sadie purred, running a soothing hand over Callum's head as he tried to stand. "We're not here to hurt anyone. It's time for you to come with us."
"Come with you where? Where's Stephen," I hissed, my eyes frantically scanning the crowd.
"Oh, he's not here, my diamond," Sid explained, his hand sliding my dress up so his hand rested on my bare hip. It made me want to vomit. "We came back from the dead. Stealing a phone was rather easy in comparison."
"Rory," Callum called out. He'd managed to stand, but there was blood running down the side of his head and he was gripping the bar. "Let her go!"
"Now, now. We're not here for a fight," Sid soothed. "Rory here belongs with us and it's time she came home."
"You're not taking her anywhere," Callum hissed, and his hand had dipped behind the bar, coming back with a whiskey bottle which he raised over his head and swung at Sadie.
But with her enhanced strength and reflexes, Sadie was one step ahead. She caught his arm mid-air and twisted. There was a distinct snap and both Callum and I screamed, though it was lost under the pounding of the music.
"Stop! Stop! Please don't hurt him," I yelled as Callum fell to the floor, the pain clear on his face as he cradled his broken arm. There were so many people. Why didn't someone look over and see we needed help?! Callum needed help!
"We won't, Love. But only if you come quietly," Sid promised, and I realized I'd begun to shake.
My eyes scanned the crowd once more, certain I'd see Stephen coming towards me, somehow able to save the day. But there was no one. Stephen wasn't here and he likely had no idea where I was. Boo wasn't coming. Thorpe wasn't coming. Freddie – who'd had even less training than me – wouldn't know what to do even if she was here.
This was really happening.
"I'll go with you. But, please, don't hurt him," I begged, and was thankful when Sadie backed off, indicating that we follow her. As I trailed them out of the club, I spared one last glance back at Callum to see him attempting to pull himself upright.
~SoL~
Club Exclusive – 8:05pm
Jesse Cartwright was already exhausted and the night had just begun. Not for the first time, he was thankful this was his last year of college. After this, there would be no more mixing drinks and waiting tables. He'd find a fantastic job at a premiere company where he sat in a comfortable chair and drank iced coffees all day. All he had to do was get through this last year.
Friday's always started early at the club and Jesse could barely keep up with the customers at the bar. He hated to admit it, but half the time, when it became this busy, he didn't even bother checking IDs.
It was in the midst of this chaos that he saw them, the odd group off to the side of the bar. The two blonds were the most striking; gorgeous and elegant in a way you didn't usually see. They both behaved as though they were walking on air. The blond boy held a relatively pretty girl in his arms, though she was nothing compared to those two. What struck him about this girl with her oddly colored red hair – clearly a bad dye job – was that she seemed terrified… on the verge of tears.
There was a man with them – the neon lights reflecting off his dark skin – slumped onto the bar. Clearly he'd had one too many drinks already.
A group of girls crowded before him, all demanding Blue Motorcycles or Daiquiris or some other incredibly girly drink and by the time he turned back to the odd group, the blonds and the scared girl were gone. The other man was leaning heavily on the bar, his hand tightening into a fist as though he were in pain.
"You alright," Jesse asked, shuffling down towards him. The man didn't acknowledge him in any way, just pulled out a phone and began dialing a number. But before he could finish, he was joined by two other people, both looking slightly frantic.
"Callum," a man in a police uniform called, adjusting his glasses as he approached his friend. Jesse angled himself so that it wasn't immediately obvious he was eavesdropping. "What happened? Thorpe's been calling. When you didn't answer he traced your phone here."
"What's happened to your arm," the girl – a gorgeous Indian girl – asked, sliding her hand gently over the clearly injured appendage.
"Where's Rory," the constable asked, his voice holding a barely contained note of panic.
"It was a trick," Callum began, his voice tight with pain. "We thought we were meeting you. They had your phone."
"They? They who," the girl inquired.
"Sid and Sadie. They have her, Stephen. She's gone. I'm so sorry. She's gone."
The constable, Stephen apparently, looked absolutely horrified. He hissed out a string of curses and his fist connected with the bar.
"We have to leave now! We have to find her," Stephen yelled, startling several customers standing close by.
"We have to get Callum to a hospital first," the girl insisted, and Stephen nodded already hurrying through the crowds as the girl helped Callum.
And then the weirdest thing of this already weird night happened.
Though he never told anyone, Jesse sometimes had hallucinations. He'd had a bad allergic reaction once when he was younger, one that had almost killed him, and ever since then, the hallucinations had come on. The people only he could see. He ignored them mostly, thinking of his grandfather, the paranoid schizophrenic who had a concoction of pills shoved down his throat every day. No, Jesse did not want anyone to know how crazy he was.
One of his "hallucinations" was in the bar, as he usually was every night. Sometimes the hallucination spoke to him, telling him stories of how he'd died in this very bar several years back. No one else had ever seen this hallucination but him, of course, because it was all in his head.
But as Stephen was walking out, Jesse couldn't help but notice how his head turned to the hallucination and looked the man-that-wasn't-real right in the eye. The hallucination – Greg as he'd once called himself – nodded, almost imperceptibly towards Stephen, as though he were acknowledging a fact. If anything, Stephen appeared even more upset and promptly stormed out.
Jesse was nearly overcome with the undeniable urge to follow him; to demand to know how it was that he'd seen Greg, but it was all just so crazy. He was aware that there was a new crowd at the bar now, shouting for drinks, but as Jesse attempted to get his head together, he happened to glance over at the television behind the bar.
Though this was certainly not the type of place that people came to get the update on the latest political scandal or catch the score of the game, the owner always insisted that the television stay on, tuned to the news. Probably hoping to impart some wisdom to the young dancers that flooded here every weekend.
The story that caught Jesse's attention was an old one. They'd been reporting about the missing Wexford girls for weeks now. The one, the girl with the "C" name, had just been found dead not long ago, but the other girl was still missing. It was this girl's picture that was now on the screen. Aurora, they said her name was, though she went by Rory. Her parents were offering a reward.
Rory.
Where's Rory, Constable Stephen had asked.
Looking at the girl's picture on the TV screen, she was smiling, but he was certain it was the same face. That scared girl who was here with those blonds. He knew the whole thing had seemed weird.
He had his phone out of his pocket and was dialing before the news story went off.
~SoL~
Back home, I would always sleep with my curtains open. I am a cold-natured person to begin with, like a cat always looking for a sunny corner to curl up in. My room was angled so that when the sun rose in the morning, I could feel its rays on my face, warming me up, and I'd never felt more comfortable. On the weekends, I would stay in bed sometimes until noon, just enjoying the feel of the sun as I burrowed further into my covers.
I could feel it now, the sun warming my face, and for a second, I waited for the scent of my dad burning the bacon or the sound of my phone ringing as my best friend, Erin called with the latest hot spot to meet tonight. But instead, I heard the sound of London traffic and also… someone breathing very close to my face.
"Rise and shine," a cheery voice called.
My eyes were open in the same second and I found myself face to face with Sid. He was sitting in a chair by the bed, leaning in close to me. His hand brushed away a few errant strands of hair clinging to my face, making me cringe.
"What are you feeling like this morning," Sid inquired. "Eggs, sausages… crawfish, or whatever crazy foods they eat where you're from? We have a cook who will make you anything you like."
"Get away from me," I hissed, sitting up in bed and backing towards the wall. Sid put his hands up in surrender.
"Relax, darling. I'm not here to hurt you. We have a big day planned. You need your strength."
"A big day of what?"
I narrowed my eyes in an attempt to burn him alive just with my stare, but he didn't seem that impressed.
"All good things after breakfast. Now, the bathroom is over there," he explained, pointing to his right. "Why don't you get cleaned up and come down. There's someone you need to meet."
With that, he leaned over, dropping a light kiss to my forehead before striding out the door and leaving me alone. It took me a minute to notice I was nearly hyperventilating, and I had to put my head between my knees and do a little deep breathing. The room he had me in was – to say the least – luxurious. I was certain I'd never slept on softer sheets and all the furniture was a deep mahogany color and solid wood. Even the lamps had gold trinkets worked into the design.
Behind me was the window that had warmed me before, but to my extreme disappointment, there were thick bars on the other side of the glass.
"Crap," I muttered, hauling myself out of bed and finding that I was thankfully still in my dress.
According to the clock on the wall it was eight in the morning. I remembered leaving the club, and the sight of Callum crouched on the floor in pain. A sudden overwhelming sense of worry came over me as I thought of him, but surely he'd been able to call Stephen or Boo. They would take care of him.
More troubling at the moment was the fact that I couldn't remember anything after being placed in their car. Had they drugged me? I did feel pretty groggy and well-rested.
The bathroom was just as grand as the bedroom, with an actual claw foot tub in the corner. The mirror was gold, as were the light fixtures and the faucet. It seemed Sid and Sadie were still quite rich.
My reflection wasn't actually that bad, aside from the bed head. There was a brand new brush in the drawer, along with an entire collection of shampoos and conditioners, shaving gel and face wash. It was as if this room had been prepared for me. Sid had most certainly meant for me to take a shower, but my first priority was getting as far away from this place as possible. Running the brush quickly through my hair, I tiptoed out of the bathroom and then into the hall.
"Don't girls usually take longer than that," a voice to my left inquired, and I felt as though a cold hand were throttling my throat.
Jack stood there, his blond hair as meticulously styled as ever, smirking. His eyes moved over me, taking everything in from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes, and I fought the urge to run back in the bedroom and lock the door.
"You're still alive," I pointed out. "Your friends didn't get so lucky.
"They weren't worthy to serve. I proved myself useful. Now, come along."
He didn't give me time to protest, just grabbed my arm and hauled me after him down the stairs. This house wasn't as big as the other place on Hyssop Close, but it was just as artfully done. The retro wallpaper, the odd décor… it was clear who did the decorating.
"She's presentable, I guess," Jack announced as he brought me into the dining room. Sadie was already seated, examining a magazine with curious interest, and Sid was standing by the window – a window so big it nearly took up the entire wall. "Though, if you want me to force her into the shower, I won't object. She clearly needs a lesson in respecting her superiors."
"Now, Jack," Sadie chided. "That is not how we treat our guests. If she doesn't feel comfortable showering in a strange house, let her be. Besides, she smells lovely. Sweet, like vanilla. Is that one of the modern perfumes? They do smell better now than they used to."
"Never mind that," Sid said, moving away from the window to stand behind his sister's chair. "There's someone who has been dying to meet you, Rory."
And with no more announcement than that, I heard someone enter the room behind me. The man walked around, eyeing me closely, running a hand lightly through my hair. He was young looking, maybe in his late twenties, with light brown hair, trimmed close to his head. He wore a suit, clearly tailor made and very expensive, and his green eyes were triumphant as he took the sight of me in.
But all this wasn't why my mouth hung open in shock, why my heart froze and my lungs forgot how to perform their duty. I'd seen this man before. He'd stared back at me from dozens of portraits. I'd seen his face in the back of books and googled him on the internet, but I still couldn't believe he was standing before me.
That stare that I'd seen painted on canvas from the 1600s regarded me curiously as I forced my mouth to close. Edward Kennish, aka Elias Townsend, was somehow very much alive!
