Black and White

Chapter Twelve.

[Black and White]

 Chapter Twelve.

[Riley’s POV]

                I held the phone limply in my hand.  Alexandre had been wrong.  This girl and I had no future, and this only proved it.  Fate just wasn’t on my side—it never was.  For a moment, I had believed him.  I had looked into her eyes and thought that maybe, just maybe, I could change.  That it could work.

                Then I get a phone call saying this girl is probably dying, and all I want to do is forget.  I don’t want to help.  I don’t want to know her.  I should let her go.  But then there’s this incessant tugging from somewhere deep in my chest, egging me on, pulling me toward her.  It’s ridiculous.  She was young, vulnerable….and she’d never choose me.

                I walked back out into the noise of the club, weaving my way through the press of dancing bodies to find my friends, if you could call them that.  I had been convinced, much to my detriment, to join a few of my fellow Council members for a night out.  We had club hopped—as much as you could club hop in downtown Seattle—for nearly two hours before settling on this electro-pop place on the outskirts of the city.  The room was full of  desperate women, ripe for the picking, and the men who knew how to hunt them.  I shook my head in disgust as I approached the table.

                Three of the men I had come with were gone, and only two remained.  A dark skinned African named Omari, who viewed the gyrating crowd with a lazy interest, and my mentor, Adam Wilson, a slim, average looking man in the most expensive suit money could buy.  His sharp green eyes met mine, and he nodded.  “Moving along, Chambers?”

                “I am, as a matter of fact, something has come up.”  I shook Omari’s hand, and then Adam’s.  “I actually have a question, gentlemen, if you don’t mind.”

                Adam waved a lazy hand, silver rings flashing in the lights of the club.  “Ask away.”

                “Would either of you happen to know the whereabouts of Dimitri Petrova?  I have need of his services for a discreet matter.”

                “I believe he is in Mongolia.”  Omari’s low, accented voice carried easily through the noise.  “Tracking a family who has joined the Continuance.  Is your matter urgent?”

                I thought about that for a moment, and nodded slowly.  “Yes, it is.”

                They both looked at me with interest, obviously wishing I would share more, but even I knew it would be unwise to tell a fellow Council member that our Princess was missing.  There are some who still hold a grudge for the queen’s interference in the trial, and this knowledge in the wrong hands would have her hunted down like a dog.  No.  I wouldn’t tell them.

                “Well,” Adam said after a long moment, reaching to pull a pen from his pocket.  He scrawled a number on one of the many neon napkins littering our table, and handed it to me.  I took it gingerly. “That is his direct number.  Do tell him it was I who gave it to you, won’t you?  He owes me a favor, and I believe this shall be the moment for him to fulfill the obligation.”

                “Thank you, Adam.”  I gave them both the slightest bow.  “Good night.”

                They nodded, and I walked from the club, enjoying the fresh night air.  Slipping into my car, I started it up and pulled away, but not before entering the number into my dashboard.  I heard a distant ring, endlessly repeating, and after five minutes I was ready to hang up from sheer frustration.