Death Comes With Open Arms

Chapter 5: The Hidden Truth (Ryker's Point-Of-View)

As we walk through the town, I make sure to hold onto Thyra's hand tightly. She doesn't know this place. I've been to many places in my life—my long life. I can't let her get hurt. Her parents would've asked for one thing before they died, had they been able to—for her to be okay. I need her to be okay. I especially can't tell her Noah killed himself when he heard her house caught fire with her and her parents caught inside. Word spreads quickly in such a small town. She's lost her only home, her parents, her boyfriend. She's most likely questioning everything. I've been in her place before. It's difficult. My train of thought is interrupted by the soft dropping of raindrops—not raindrops, tears. Thyra's face has shimmering tears running down it. The tears have a soft red tint to them and stain her face. It's odd—somewhat concerning. I pull Thyra into my arms and quickly wipe her tears away. I can't have someone getting suspicious with us. There's nowhere safe here. Not until I get home. In the distance is a large, gray building. The church. They've always hated people like us. Believing that we're demons or corrupted souls. If only they knew. "Ryker, where are we?" Thyra asks quietly as she clings tighter to me. If only I could tell her. "The neighboring town to ours," I tell her as she looks around. A few people glance our way as we walk, acknowledging that we're newcomers. However, most pay us no mind at all. That's what I love about this place. It's so calm and no one has any issues with anyone. Probably the only town where huntings isn't high. Others blend in well here. Luckily, we only have to discreetly eat or change our appearances. The only problem is the few who don't follow rules and appear in the headlines. Huntings is getting more common. It's dangerous for all of us. As we walk, a large sign reads: Welcome to Rye Combe, home of the free. I've missed this place. I haven't been here in a few years. Thyra looks at the sign and whispers, "I've never heard of Rye Combe before." "It's a small town, not popular enough to be on the map. Most don't care enough to visit. It's far from tourist routes anyways. Anyone who comes here is here to get away or hide. It can be a little sketchy. Stay close," I tell her softly. Thyra nods and holds Beanie tightly. We approach an old tavern that looks like it's falling apart. Its sign reads: Saint Combe's Tavern And Blacksmith. I open the door for Thyra and hold it as she walks inside. I follow her in and return to my place by her side. I walk up to the counter and say, "Ayyee! Jericho! It's been a while! How've you been?" A man with brown eyes and dark skin with his nails painted black stares down at me. He has a scowl, though, it's his resting face. "Thought the governa' banished ya', Ryker," Jericho says with a deep voice. "You know I'd come back," I saw with a smile. "Whatever. What do ya' want?" Jericho asks. "Two Brown Ales on tap, extra ice," I say with a smile, "And put it on my tab." Jericho growls and writes down the order before opening the door to the back discreetly. "They're in the back. They won't be very welcomin'," he says. "As I'd assume," I say as I walk to the door, "Ladies first." I motion to the door for Jericho, who rolls his eyes and walks inside. I walk in with Thyra and the door closes behind us. Behind the door is a large town. It looks the same as the one outside, but instead darker-seeming and full of odd-looking individuals. Jericho looks down at Thyra, who yelps when she sees his arms. His arms are purple and look like tentacles but have spikes instead of suckers. His legs are the same, but are covered by his tall, black boots. "Nice ta' take those gloves off," Jerichi says. "He-he has," Thyra says with a pale face. "Yup. Those are...," I say as I catch Thyra as she passes out, "And I thought she would take this better."