Taint (Formerly Claimed) Dark Midnight 1

Chapter 15

*Author's Blurb:  changed the cover (again.  I have a indicisive problem).  Not sure which one I like better, please let me know in the comments?  Old cover is in the side bar ------------->

 Also, feedback?  Are you guys liking it so far?  You thoughts may decide whether I just keep writing and posting as I go along, or put this on hold for a while to go back and edit.  Thanks for reading!*

In a game of poker, your face was almost as important as your hand—poker stiff they called it.

You never let your opponent see you fear, your excitement, surprise—nothing.

You needed to look blank.  Or, Miriam thought almost smugly, empty. 

It was a good thing that Eliot already seemed to think that she was at least one of those things, because it made it a lot easier to look him dead into those fiery eyes and pretend that she wasn’t afraid. 

That her knees weren't knocking together because her legs shook. 

That her heart wasn’t pounding like mad in her chest. 

That she didn't feel as though any minute she might do something utterly clichéd and feminine like…faint.

Pushing all that aside, she tried to gauge his reaction to her question.

Did he know the boy with pale skin and jet black hair who seemed like morbid Calvin Klein model?

 If he did, his face gave nothing away. 

Those eyes were unreadable, as they glanced her over once before moving to stare sharply at the door as if he were thinking hard about something.  Something irritating. 

His gaze was utterly dead.

 To hell with her dumb attempts at bravery—she was willing to admit that Eliot had mastered the poker face. 

He was quiet for so long that Miriam began to nervously shift her weight from one foot to the other, unconsciously glancing at her fallen baseball bat which had rolled right before his feet.

Then, suddenly his features shifted and that stern mouth twisted into a frown.  “You saw him?”  He said finally.  “Someone in your house, I mean?”

“Y-yes.”  Miriam staggered back until her waist smacked off the ledge of her desk. 

It unnerved her—the look on his face.  Almost as if he knew damn well just who she was talking about and who she’d seen.  But, she was willing to write it off as a trick of the light.

What truly had her pulse beating however, was the thought of the strange prowler who had the nerve to stride up behind her in her own house.  Demand something to drink, even though it had to be at least ten o’clock at night.

Not only that, but then he had…sniffed her.

She didn’t like to think about that part. 

She had tried to reason it, instead.

Maybe he just had allergies?

The house was a field of dust after all and even she found herself sniffing and sneezing in the most random places. 

Maybe the guy, with skin so pale it looked like pure, solid ivory, just had a cold?

Yeah, all of those things sounded very good and fine in theory—but whenever she thought hard about it, only one thing remained clear.