Things that Go Bump in the Night

Chapter 47: Finally Answered: Part 1

  Someone had patched me up?

The door opened and I about leapt out of my skin, turning to face the intrusion and automatically reaching for my gun. It wasn't as big of a surprise when my hand came up empty, but it was a surprise to see who came through the door.

I had forgotten about Beta Samuels.

In fact I had forgotten most of what the hell had happened before my unplanned mental hiatus. Now as he stood in the doorway, broad shouldered and silent, I remembered every detail of our last encounter. The terrifying boat ride, the frigid turbulent water, the drunken men accosting me, and then the Beta's surprise intervention.  

I didn't kill your father....but I know who did.

I didn't kill your father.

I know who did.

"Good, you're awake." The Beta monster stated, walking toward me with something in his hands. I flinched back, holding my bandaged hands in front of me in my best attempt at defense. In this state I probably just looked like a fish out of water.

"Get away from me." I growled, hitting the wall with my back. I wanted to maximize the space between us. I was obviously in no condition to fight or to run away but the action helped my nerves just the same.

 I hated not having a method for defense, like my gun before. However, my show of distrust must have been enough for the monster because he stopped his approach.

"It's food. You need to eat." He said as he put the plate that was in his hands on the end table beside the bed. I watched the muscles in his arms flex and contract as he did so, waiting for him to make a move against me. He didn't though, and a small part of me intuitively knew that he wouldn't. If he planned on hurting me he would have had the opportunity to do so while I was unconscious; instead my injuries had been treated and he was currently serving me food.

I didn't kill your father.

I know who did.

"Where am I?" I barked, keeping my gaze fixed upon the oddly unconcerned giant. He raised his grey eyes to hold my gaze for the first time since he entered the room. I couldn't help notice once again how there was something different in his continence, something that defied the role of the emotionless but dangerous enforcer I had characterized him to be in my mind.

He looked tired.

Even I was unimpressed with that summation of my observations, but I could think of nothing else that fit them. His typically ridged posture had fallen a little lax, his shoulders drooping lower than normal, the corners of his mouth were turned town in an unmistakable grimace instead of a tight poker face line, and instead of the aloof disinterest in which his cool eyes usually regarded me, I was met with silver orbs of intense (if not a little unsettling) focus.

His only response to my panicked interrogation was to sigh and roll his shoulders, releasing a small fatigued groan as he did so. It was yet another expressive gesture that I was not prepared for, an indication that he knew the conversation we were about to have was going to be exhausting and he was physically preparing himself for the task. His annoyance made my skin crawl with the impulse to strike him. What right did he have to feel annoyed or daunted by the task of answering my questions? It was his fault I had them to begin with.

"We are in a human subunit in the lower district, just a few blocks from where I found you." He replied in a monotone, the sudden base of his voice made my muscles jump slightly. I frowned in annoyance at the response.

"And the people who live here?" I asked, making my tone accusing to cover the slight tremor of uncertainty I knew was trying to make its way to the surface.  What if he hurt them? What had he done to them?