Red Blooded

Chapter 12 - Faeries and shit

I am not a saint. I am not a sinner. I do not repent for sins and I do not seek forgiveness.

I merely live.

I'd wanted to think that I could live without consequences but that is the impossible, for everything in this world holds consequences whether it is for you or for me or for the shadow that leaves us behind in the dark.

Consequence.

How can one word hold so much meaning? The word fills a person with dread, unexpected though it is the fear alone of consequence can make a person weak.

I know all about consequence; I hold it in high regards - In fact, lately, I've taken consequence by the hand and call it my acquaintance, not my friend, but an acquaintance that walks with me with every step that I take and every breath that I strain to breathe.

Yes, I know all about consequence. And it's a shame, for I'd dearly love not to know anything at all.

For me, that's a consequence in itself.

That I still think.

Even when I don't want to.

My desk vibrated for the hundredth time in less than an hour. The IPhone sitting near the edge called to me, begged me to pick it up; I nearly did. I peered over to check the name: Unknown Caller. From the moment I switched my phone back on, I was inundated with calls and texts from Eric, Mary, Hilary and Crick. I was tempted to switch it back off again but I needed to make calls for work.

My first call was to George, my new assistant. George was competent, polite, courteous and very thoughtful. Unlike Jolene, he was professional and asked me relevant and to the point questions. Sure, I missed having that banter with my former assistant, but I was sure that if I were to look at her now, all I would see is the word 'traitor' stamped across her forehead.

And it's not like I was being harsh.

They all knew. They all knew I was unforgiving. My trust was rarely gained and easily broken - they had seen that countless times in the past.

The vibrating IPhone stopped, sending the room into another state of silence. I glanced over at the digital clock on my bedside table: 09:31. Around this time I would have been doing my rounds, checking out the staff room perhaps, or maybe just talking with Doris in accounting. Doris was an old lady of seventy three but I could say, hands down, that I had never come across another person who had worked as hard as she had. The little old lady of just less than 5ft ran the accounting department like a tyrant. She showed no signs of slowing down; her every move negated her age.

She would probably out live me.

I took a deep breath in and sighed when the vibrating desk started back up again. It had started with Eric calling first, and at first I sent the calls to voicemail. And then I ignored them. That only seemed to rile my phone up even more. Hilary called next. Then Mary. Crick called last. When I refused to pick up on any of them, I had the ingenious idea to call my network provider and get the numbers blocked.

But I didn't plan in the fact that they could call with withheld numbers.

What if they decide to get past building security and pound on your door?

Darn. I hadn't thought of that.

I snatched the still vibrating phone and cut the call off immediately. I dialed out to Ian, my security manager. He picked up before it had barely rung once.

"Miss. Reynolds." He greeted.

"I want security ramped up with immediate effect. I want to two body guards with me at all times and for my house to be under guard."