FABLE

Chapter Forty Nine

He's staring at Felix, and his usual demeanor of rakish, easygoing, charming amusement is replaced by an expression I've never seen him wear. His face is twisted in a dark, murderous fury. Even his bright blue eyes look suddenly cold and icy. His voice when he speaks is low and menacing.

"Touch her again and I'll-" he says.

"You'll what?" Felix cuts him off.

I feel my skin prickle over with goose bumps, and the temperature in the room suddenly seems to plummet. I start to shiver.

Think. They look like they're about to kill each other. I need to break this up.

"Wow, it's freezing in here!" I say as cheerily as I can. Both boys immediately turn their attention to me. "How about we join the others in the kitchen?"

Without thinking, I grab each boy by the hand, and I drag them behind me, out of the hallway and towards the rest of the group.

Everyone is seated at the kitchen table, apart from my dad, who is ladling soup into bowls, and Kitty, who is enthusiastically telling him about the best spots to buy designer stilettos on King's Road.

My mom is in her element, quizzing the guys about their lives in London, their music, and my involvement with their new album.

Casting my eyes around the table, it looks like everyone took the seating plan seriously, and all the guys are sitting in the seats assigned by the handwritten place markers my mom put out.

By some stroke of luck, Felix and Alastaire are seated on opposite sides of the table.

I on the other hand am seated right in between my mom and dad.

Over protective much? Yeesh.

I slide in next to my mom, watching nervously as Felix and Alastaire settle down into their seats. They don't take their eyes off each other for even a second.

Even when my dad places a bowl of steaming hot soup in front of each of them, they keep their eyes fixed on each other, staring each other down.

Luckily, no one else seems to notice.

"Help yourselves to beer bread," my mom says, gesturing to the plate of freshly baked bread in the centre of the table. "Lyall, we used Guinness. We thought you might like that."

Far from being creeped out by my mom's culinary stalkery, Lyall seems absolutely delighted.

"Awww thanks Mrs. Shields, this is such a treat," he says between mouthfuls of bread. "An' de potato soup's just like me mam always makes. Real thoughtful o' yer."

"Wish we could offer you a pint of Guinness to go with it," my dad says. "But we used it up on the bread. What do you guys want to drink? Heinekens?"

"I'll have red wine," Alastaire says airily. "Merlot, if you have it."

"Not so fast," Kitty says to Alastaire, before smiling apologetically at my dad. "Thanks for the offer Brian, but I'm responsible for these guys. There'll be no underage drinking on my watch."

"Are you serious?" Ben says. "Alastaire's been downing half a bottle of champagne every day since we arrived. Even at breakfast. Didn't see you complain then."

"Yes, well, we're in polite company now," Kitty says, looking slightly flustered. "It's different. I on the other hand am nineteen. So I'd love a glass of wine, thank you Brian. The guys can have fruit juice or something."

"Sure thing," my dad says, rising to get a bottle. "Red or white?"

"Hold up Mr. Shields," Alastaire says. "Kitty darling, sorry to break it to you, but we're not in Britain any more. The legal drinking age here in the states is twenty-one. Mr. Shields, Kitty will have water."