Kiera Hudson & The Creeping Men (11 page)

I had only just stepped from the bath, when there was a knock at my door. Suspecting that it would be Phebe with the pot of tea, I wrapped a towel about me and went to the door. Pulling it open, I stepped back in surprise, fixing the towel tighter about me. Potter stood in the door, his eyes slowly gliding up and down the length of me. He was holding a tray with a pot of tea and two cups on it.

“What are you doing here?” I said.

“Where do you want me to put the tray?” he asked, brushing past me and stepping into my room.

“Over there,” I said, pointing to the desk.

He put it down, then dropped into the armchair by the window. “That’s the second cup of tea I’ve got you in one day,” he said.

“I’m honoured,” I shot back, holding the towel tight. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question was that?” he asked, lighting a cigarette.

“What are you doing here?” I said pushing up the window to let some air in and his cigarette smoke out.

He reached inside his jacket. “I brought you this,” he said, tossing a torch onto my bed.

“I’ve already got one,” I said. “Now what are you really doing here?”

I felt Potter’s eyes on me again. Was he imagining what lay beneath the towel? There was a time when he wouldn’t have had to imagine anything. His stare made me feel uncomfortable. Not because I didn’t like him looking at me, it was because that was all he would ever be able to do here. I wasn’t his and he wasn’t mine. Why torture myself, knowing that in a different
where
and
when
I would have dropped the towel to the floor and we would be in each other’s arms by now?

“We need to talk,” he said, sitting forward in his chair.

“Let me get changed first,” I said, snatching up some clean clothes and hurrying to the bathroom.

“There’s no need to change on my account,” he called after me. I didn’t have to look to know that he was wearing a grin on his face.

With the heel of my foot, I pushed the bathroom door closed. I pulled on some fresh underwear, T-shirt, and jeans. When I went back into my room, Potter was standing and flicking the ash from the end of his cigarette out of the window.

“I couldn’t find an ashtray,” he said.

“I don’t smoke, remember?” I said.

“What do you do?” he asked.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean?” Didn’t he know everything about me?

“Well you don’t drink, you don’t speed in your car, you don’t smoke, so what is it you do? How do you get your kicks?” he asked, watching me as I went to my bed and sat on the edge. “What is your secret?”

“I don’t have a secret,” I lied. I had plenty.

“An old friend of mine told me I should be careful of the quiet ones,” he said, leaning against the wall by the window. Sun spilled into the room, highlighting the curve of his firm jawline. With the light behind him, half of his face was cast in shadow, making his eyes look deeper and darker somehow. They looked nice. He looked good standing by the window, but of course I couldn’t tell him that.

“Who was the friend?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.

“You wouldn’t know him,” he said, sounding as if he wanted to change the topic of conversation too.

“So what is it you needed to talk about?” I asked.

“After your disappearing act this morning, I contacted an old friend of mine,” he started.

“The same old friend who told you to watch the quiet ones?” I asked.

“It might be,” he said, eyeing me. “Anyway, he used to be in the job like me, but he’s out now. He didn’t manage to piss off as many people as I did before leaving the police, so he still has some pretty good contacts. I call him up from time to time when I need some info that I can’t get on my own.”

“So what information did you need from this old friend of yours?” I asked, my stomach leaping at the thought he might be talking about Murphy.

“I wanted to know more about the girl they found in that wood,” he said. “The girl who had been mutilated.”

“And what did your friend say?” I asked, heart speeding up now.

“He made a few calls, and the word is that this young girl, Emily Cartdew, appears to have been attacked by some kind of savage animal.”

“What kind of animal?” I needed to know.

“A wolf perhaps…”

“I was right,” I said, springing from the bed.

“Don’t get yourself too excited,” Potter said. “It’s only a might be.”

“So you believe me now?” I said, spinning around to face him. I wanted him to say that I had been right. Not because I wanted to boast or anything like that, I just wanted him to start trusting me – start believing in me again – how we once had been. The spats we had could be fun – especially the making up part – but there wasn’t going to be any making up or making out this time around.

“I’m not saying anything,” he said, raising his hands. “I just wanted to let you know that if you are right and there is some giant dog up at Bastille Hall tearing chunks out of people, I think we need to be careful. I just came to warn you. That’s all.”

“You just can’t admit that I’m right,” I said, hands on hips.

“Let’s see what happens tonight,” he said, heading for the door.

I followed him across the room. “Is that it?”

“Is that what?” he asked, pulling the door open.

“You came all the way out here to tell me that?” I said.

“Well, it’s kind of important, don’t you think?” He frowned.

“Couldn’t you have just called me?” I said, watching every facial tic and expression.

“I don’t have your number.” He shrugged.

“I have yours on my phone,” I told him.

“Good for you,” he said, lingering by the door.

“There is something else, isn’t there?” I prompted him.

Sighing and blowing out his cheeks, Potter looked at me and said, “Look, I’m not good at this sort of thing… but… I just wanted to apologise for… well, you know what for.”

“No, I don’t,” I said, shaking my head. I wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily.

“For being a jerk, okay?” he said. “Happy now?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” I said, hiding my smile. It was fun watching Potter grovel. I’d always enjoyed seeing him do it.

“Oh, Christ,” he muttered. “Look, I’m sorry for some of the things I said to you. I didn’t mean to give you such a hard time since you showed up. You just caught me at a bad point in my life. I’m not trying to make excuses, but I have stuff to deal with…”

“Stuff?” I asked.

“Sophie,” he said.

“Okay,” I said, not sure if I wanted to hear about the relationship he shared with her, but respecting him for having the guts to apologise. He didn’t have to explain anything to me – not in this world.

“Look, I better be going,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight up at Bastille Hall.”

“Need a lift?” I asked.

“No, I can find my own way there,” he said.

Before he had the chance to step away down the hallway, I did something that not only took Potter by surprise, but me, too. I leant forward and kissed him gently on the cheek.

“What was that for?” he asked, putting his fingertips to his cheek.

“To say thanks, I guess,” I said, looking away.

“For what?”

“For saying sorry,” I told him.

“A kiss just for saying sorry? Next time I owe you an apology, I’ll make sure I bring you a bunch of flowers,” he smiled. “What will that get me?”

“Get out of here,” I grinned, closing the door on him.

I waited for the sound of his feet to fade away on the stairs before I started to sob.

I sat in the chair by the window until it had grown dark. My tears had all dried away from the warm evening breeze that blew in through the open window. The last of the tea in the pot had long since turned cold. But I sat there,
Ed Sheeran
playing on my iPhone. I tried not to think too hard or too long about anything in particular. It sometimes hurt too much to do so. Feeling pain was not good. Not only for my wellbeing, but even though I had destroyed the Elders, the thought of them sucking off my unhappiness still lingered at the back of mind. Noah had assured me that they had gone forever, and I wanted to believe that. I wanted to believe everything he had told me. But what had he really told me in that short time we had spent together at that grand railway station? He’d shown me the light inside my heart – he had shown me the deep, unrelenting love I had for my friends. It had been that love that had defeated the Elders. I was now understanding the full price I had to pay for letting my friends go on without me. I was happy that they were no longer miserable in that dark world we had been
pushed
into. And I was happy if they were happy together in some other layer. As long as they were together and they never remembered. Noah had promised me that much at least.

Was this world some kind of compromise? A world where I could know and spend time with the man I loved, but never truly be loved by him. Wasn’t that better than not being with him at all? But wouldn’t I be happier if I’d been
pushed
to someplace else? To a place where the memories of my friends had been taken away so I would never know the pain of what I had once had but now lost? I needed answers. But who was there to ask? Where was Noah, and would I ever see him again? Something deep inside of me said that I would, but how long would I have to wait?

The song I had been listening to stopped. Picking up my iPhone, I brushed my thumb over the music icon. But I must have accidently hit the contacts list because Potter’s and Lois Li’s numbers appeared on the screen. Lois Li? I wondered. She owned the temping agency. It was Lois Li who had sent me to work for The Creeping Men. Maybe she would be able to answer some of my questions. Like where did I live in this
pushed
world? Had it been the agency who had packed my case? Supplied me with a phone, money, credit card? Was the agency picking up the tab for everything like they were for my stay at the Crescent Moon Inn?

Pressing Lois Li’s number with my thumb, I put the phone to my ear. I heard a clicking sound which was followed by an automated voice, which was female.

“The Agency is now closed. Please try again later. Sorry for any inconvenience caused,” the voice said.

I ended the call. The time on the front of my phone read 22:55 hrs. How had it grown so late? I wondered, springing from my chair, aware that I was meeting Potter and Ms. Locke at Bastille Hall in just over an hour. Pulling on my coat and trainers, I snatched up the torch, thrusting it into my coat pocket. I had plenty of time, but I wanted to speak with either Uri or Phebe before I left for my meeting. Placing my iPhone into my pocket, I left my room and made my way down to the bar. Uri was tidying away the tables. He seemed surprised to see me out of my room so late.

“Going out?” he smiled.

I nodded.

“Got a date with the young man who visited earlier today?” he asked.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. Uri was pleasant enough, but I didn’t have time for idle chitchat.

“No?” he said, looking surprised. “So you’re not going to meet Mr. Potter then?”

“Well, yes, but it’s not a date or anything like that,” I said, beginning to wonder what my plans for the night had to do with the young looking landlord. But I didn’t want to be rude, as he and his girlfriend had been nothing but courteous and helpful since my arrival at the inn. I was grateful for that. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay,” Uri said, picking up a chair and placing it on the table. There was a broom propped against the bar. He picked it up and began to sweep the floor.

“I don’t suppose you have a contact address for the temping agency?” I asked him, feeling a little idiotic for not knowing the address of the people who were footing the bill for my stay at the inn.

“Don’t you have it?” he asked, continuing to sweep.

“No,” I said. But knowing how dumb that sounded, I quickly added, “What I mean is, I do have the address, but it’s written down in my diary at home…”

“Have you never been there?” he cut in. “To the temping agency office?”

“Erm… well… no,” I said, looking for any kind of excuse. “Everything is usually done by email or letter.”

“I see,” Uri said, standing straight and rubbing his chin.

“I don’t have their address either, I’m afraid.”

“Even though they are paying for me to stay here – paying for all my food?” I asked with a frown.

“Like you said, everything is done by email,” he smiled, returning to his sweeping.

“Okay,” I sighed, realising that I was getting nowhere fast with Uri. Perhaps his girlfriend might be able to help. But I didn’t have time to speak with her now. It would have to wait until tomorrow. I headed to the door, then stopped and looked back. “How did you know my friend’s name?”

“What friend?” Uri asked without looking up.

“Mr. Potter,” I said.

“I’ve had some dealings with him in the past,” Uri said, busy sweeping the floor.

“The Creeping Men?” I pushed.

The phone on the bar suddenly began to ring. Propping the broom against the bar again, Uri picked up the phone. “Room service,” he said in his usual happy and pleasant manner. “How can I help you tonight?”

Not having the time to wait for him to finish the call, I stepped out of the inn and into the night.