Bereft

- 40 -

Amoroth ignored me. She paced from the kitchen to the living room, then down the hall. I followed, once again asking the Sin what she was doing in my house and again receiving no response. Amoroth kicked the bottom of my bedroom's door and it sprang open to reveal the sight of my rumpled bed and the various bits of medical garbage I hadn't gathered yet. Dark stains peppered the carpet, and the depleted blood bag still hung on the headboard.

"It reeks in here," Amoroth complained, her nose wrinkled with distaste as she swiveled to face me. Her gaze lingered at the bruise on my throat before dipping to my middle. "Attacked, you say?"

"Yes." I retreated when she leaned into my space, her face too close to my own, my reflection vaporous and pale on the surface of her strange, searching eyes. "Wh—what are you doing?"

Amoroth hummed low, frowning, then straightened. "This wouldn't have anything to do with my problem, would it?"

"Your problem?" It clicked in my head. "The Klau Killer? No, not unless you orchestrated my sister's death."

"And if I did?"

"I'd kill you."

Amoroth met my hard, unwavering glower and laughed. "Don't insinuate that I'm the reason your life's gone to shit. I'm certain it was perfectly dreadful Darius or myself ever got involved." She flipped the veil of her brunette hair behind her shoulder. "Besides, you're hardly worth that kind of effort."

"Whatever." I stomped past Amoroth, having to twist sideways to avoid brushing against her. I didn't have to glance back to know she was following me.

"Where is Darius?"

"I don't know." Not completely true, but the semantics didn't matter to me, and I wouldn't verbally spar with a woman who grew bored with talking and resorted to throwing her opponents off rooftops.

"Why am I not surprised?"

I stood by the front door and surveyed the room, fist propped on my hips as I tried to decide where Darius had left the car keys. I pieced together his progression in my mind, theorizing he came through the front door with me half dead under his arm, dropped my bloody cardigan on the sofa, then continued to the bedroom. From there, I could only surmise that the Sin had robbed a hospital, administered aid to me, and then went to the fridge to devour its contents, where he'd inadvertently left my phone. But what about after that? Where were my damn keys?

The cat perched on the sofa's arm, tail twitching.

"Why are you dressed if you're not going to work?"

I shot Amoroth a withering glare. "I have somewhere to go."

"Where?"

"Does it matter?"

She shrugged and sat next to the cat on the sofa's arm with her legs neatly crossed. "No. I simply have the distinct impression Darius knows nothing about your planned sojourn." Amoroth wagged a manicured finger. "I want to know what you're hiding from him."

I went to the slumped armchair and dug underneath the seat, unearthing an old tube of chapstick and a forgotten bookmark but nothing else. Aggravated, I sat for a moment to catch my breath, rubbing my brow and waiting for the sudden rush of vertigo to dissipate.

Amoroth watched, her posture curiously slanted, teetering in half-thought consideration of rising. The cat, in turn, watched Amoroth with wide eyes. "Hrm..." the Sin murmured. The muscles in her slender throat tightened.

"I'm not hiding anything," I told her as I picked at the frayed cuff of my denim shorts. The stretched collar of my old, distressed shirt exposed the odd splotches of green and yellow bruises. "It's none of your business, anyway."