Starfall

Chapter 13 - Elyse

In his eyes, I see nothing. No emotion, no movement of thoughts. It's now that I realize I am staring at a shell of a man. There's nothing left in his soul. And it's my fault. I took it all away when I killed his wife. I took everything from him. All of it.

His breath is long and fatigued. "Look, I know what you're trying to do, but I'm not in the mood. Now scram."

"We heard you used to be a Doxem priest," Kamal says quickly before he can shut us out. "Peter, right?"

He squints at us. "That's right." He's still unsure. Wary.

I take Kamal's hand and move closer to him. "We need somewhere to hide—I mean, to stay. At least for a few hours," I say in my accent, making sure to sound desperate. "And we heard you'd be our best bet."

"Please," Kamal pleads. "We would be eternally grateful." He even glances around warily, making it seem like we might have been followed.

Peter stands there, staring at us for what feels like hours. Until finally he opens the door further and grumbles, "Come in."

The two of us bombard him with gratitude as we enter his home. On the inside, we're hit with an overwhelming breath of not-so-fresh air. As we follow him up the narrow, creaking staircase, I have to resist the intense urge to gag, because this place smells like alcohol paired with a good serving of vomit. I exchange a glance with Kamal and see that I'm not the only one that smells it.

"Sit," Peter grunts, scratching at his balding head. He sighs heavily, as if even walking across the room is a burden. "Want some tea or something?"

Kamal clears his throat. "Oh, um, I think we're okay—"

But he doesn't listen—instead, he disappears around a corner. I can distantly hear pots clanking and cupboards opening and closing.

My gaze meets Kamal's. I give him a look that says, This is so weird.

He just nods, eyes wide and unnerved.

Eventually Peter comes back and sits across from us at the rickety table. The surface is cluttered with unopened mail and empty malt bottles, and he doesn't bother clearing any of it off for us.

"What're you running from, then?" he says through a cracked breath, leaning further back in his chair and crossing his hairy arms.

It's odd to think this man used to be my friend. A mentor, of sorts. He was there for me when my grandma passed—at least, for the most part. He fed me and kept me safe in the time between my grandmother and Rose. But after a few months, Rose discovered he was helping me. And it didn't take long for her to scare him away.

This isn't the Peter I remember. This isn't the helpful, caring, compassionate priest I once knew. This is someone completely different—someone ripped of their love and their life. Someone broken.

I swallow hard and summon my accent once more. "Someone powerful. And we got on her bad side."

I watch his eyes carefully in the next moments. At first there's no reaction, but a second passes before his thick eyebrows lower. Then he straightens, suddenly alert.

"Her?" he gasps, eyes wide. "No, no, no. No." He stands quickly, and the feet of his chair scrape loudly on the floorboards. "I will have nothing to do with Rose. No. Get out."

The two of us sit there in complete shock. Kamal's the one to speak first.

"P-please, we don't have anyone else to—"

"It's not my problem!" he shouts. He points to the door. "Get out. Now! Get out!"

We both stand, but I hold Kamal from moving to the door. "Wait," I say calmly, holding up a hand. "Just . . . wait."