Kill Me, Kiss Me

SEVEN

    HE started running when he saw the same text message on his phone. Each word stamped a mark on his mind like the splattering of her blood across his face. He couldn't forget.
   
Get out of there.
   
She didn't reply.
   
Theo's eyelid twitched, and before he could fight down the impulse that shivered up his limbs like an electrical current, he had already flagged a taxi. The same old man turned to look at him, and the same words fell from his lips.

"310 Huckley Roan, Jen's coffee, as soon as you can please."

The same decrepit road, the same flickering street lamps, the same approaching gloom, but this time, he knew what she wanted to say to him. They were going to kill her, he had no idea who 'They' were, but he could make a good guess what with her desperate anguish about Alexandr, TRNT, the company. It seemed, she had known too much. Too much about what? He didn't want to know.

He rubbed his brow and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to settle the frantic pounding within his rib cage, "Apologies, can you wait here for a minute, I'll be right back."

The taxi driver gave him a subdued stare through the rear view mirror and nodded curtly, "A few minutes."

Theo leapt from the car into the sour cold of the night wind and flung open the door to the cafe, holding his breath to the rush of decay and bitterness. The same old woman was there, behind the counter, the same disinterest in her saggy, spotted limbs, but Mariah wasn't here. He swept his eyes over the stained tables and darkened walls a second time, the corner seat she had taken was empty.

"Hello," He took a slower breath, turning to the old woman, "Have you seen a woman here, wearing all black?"
   
The old woman shuffled around, watery eyes staring out from her lined face that looked as if it was carved out of wax, "The woman?" Her voice was wispy but unusually clear, and at the look of his face, she started laughing, chin quivering so hard it threatened to rip off and thump to the floor.
   
"Yes, the woman." His gut twisted, and he tried to look away from the shaking flesh of her lumpy neck.
   
Thump! She slapped the table with her gnarled hands, her laugh spiralling hysterically in piercing assonance through the yellow, turbid air. Theo took a step back and another, but just when he was about to wrench open the door and crash outside, the old hag raised a distorted finger towards a table. There, camouflaged with the brown of the table was a slim envelope.
   
He hurried past the lopsided chairs and snatched the coarse paper envelope from the dirty table. Without giving another glance at the laughing hag, he stepped out onto the uneven pavement outside, slamming the door behind him. His body was heavy, something scratched at him from the inside, and again, again, that horrible laughter rose past his ears, within his mind. He should be relieved, the woman was no longer here, perhaps she was out of danger, but that laughter jumbled his brain; he couldn't think.
   
A sickness rose in his stomach.
   
Throwing the taxi door shut, he leaned forward in the navy dimness, crumpling the envelope in his hands, "Take me to a bar, any bar, high end please."    The driver lifted a thick eyebrow, but he gave a firm nod, and the car swerved away from the broken streets and the flickering light, on, off, on, off. Theo lay a cool hand on his forehead for a moment, and when the car was finally illuminated with the normality of bright lights from the roads outside, he tore open the envelope.
   
Mariah's handwriting rose before him, but unlike the neat curved of her letters on the post-it-note, her writing here was distended, broken with some places overlapping each other in a mess of panic. He could feel it rising from the page; it made him sick.

I don't have much time, I'll make it brief: leave that place. Think of this as the last advice from someone who came the same way as you; it's not worth it. But if you are stupid enough to stay, remember: Alexandr Hew is just a beast hiding under the mask of a human, they all are. Don't ever go to their house, don't meet the other two, and whatever you do, don't get involved with the sister. You'll get devoured by the wolves. If you want to live, don't go near any of them...222 Lewwest Street, 3411, 87u6, death or the truth, you choose.

He sank back into his seat, fingers digging into the soft fabric of his seats. These were the same things she had told him last time, but reading them again, in the manner... He folded the note once, twice, thrice, a fourth time and stuffed it at the bottom of his pocket.

He couldn't stay here any longer.                 

But. How. Could. He. Get. Out. Of. This. Game?

He slammed his fist into his thigh, the dull ache of pain numbing the bubbling lava in the pit of his stomach.

"Sir, this is the Alt bar."

Theo glanced outside, the road wasn't a main one, but the street lamps were bright, and the entrance was very classy. He liked the black lettering of the sign, and the font was pleasing to the eye, even when he was in a mood like this.

"It'll do." He passed the cabby the money, "Don't give me change."

"Thank you."

But he could hear no thanks in the boredom of the man's voice.

Feeling the edge of the note in his pocket, he stepped back into the tingling cold that belonged only to night. The car zoomed away into the fading distance with a roar, and all was left was the cold moon, the bar and him.

He took a deep breath, loosened his fists by his side and pushed through the dark glass doors. An elaborate wooden hallway opened up in front of him, and a security guard in a black suit appraised him coolly from beside the door. Theo pressed his lips together and flicked a cool look back. The security guard blinked and nodded towards him.

"Sir, please come this way." A smartly dressed waiter smiled and gestured towards a doorway covered with a red velvet curtain.

He nodded faintly and followed the waiter through the curtain.

Beyond, a bar with rows of glasses and alcohol extended from Theo's left and to his right were a number of dark wood tables and burgundy leather seats. The walls were covered with wooden panelling and a cream patterned wall-paper. Wolf head wall mounts lined the wall opposite him, and as he strode forward, their glassy blue eyes seemed to follow his every step.

A silence rang eerily through the low bubble of jazz, there were only a few people sat by the bar, mostly men in expensive suits. At his entrance, they turned to appraise him sharply. He felt the urge to scowl, and without giving them a second look, he took a seat by the bar, far from the others.

"What can I get for you?" The Bartender stepped forwards.

"Cognac neat." He tapped the bar top and looked over the bottles full of glistening ambrosia, "Martell Cordon Bleu."

The Bartender gave a nod and turned away towards the shelf. He could feel the scratchy heat settle as he watched the spiral of golden brown flow into the crystal clear depths of a glass. And when the sharp sweetness bloomed into his mouth and coursed down his throat, the stiffness in his limbs seemed to melt away like chocolate on the tip of his tongue.

By his second glass, he could feel the ache and heaviness detach from his chest, he was nearly normal again. Nearly, perhaps he would've gotten there if not for the clack of shoes and the sudden cease of noise within the bar. He turned in his stool, hand still wrapped around his glass and lifted his heavy eyes to the source of silence. Deep, drowning black eyes met his, and all the warmth brought by his drunken ease dissipated like smoke in their grating gaze.

Theo's glass clang to the bar top unsteadily.

Alexandr's brows arched upwards, and a momentary daze passed over his cold face, "What are you doing here?"

Opening his mouth, Theo searched for words and found none. He tapped his thigh and swung away from the man, reaching for his glass again. Perhaps, he was starting to get a little drunk.

"He's here for an after-work drink." A familiarly smooth voice lightened with bored amusement resounded from behind.

Theo rubbed his brow and downed the rest of his drink. If he knew those two were going to come here, he would've gone somewhere different. The glassy surface of his calm broke, and the woman's words started rising through his mind again.

Beasts in human skin.

She had been serious, and now, he couldn't stop believing her.

Now this place made his skin writhe too.

Why should he let those two bother him? They haven't done anything to him, and he hadn't done anything to them. They were as close as two strangers were. But he was bothered, and he couldn't deny it.

Grabbing his suit jacket from the stool, he strode towards a waiter next to the curtained exit, "Pardon me, where is the washroom?"

"This way Sir."

The Waiter led him out into the hallway and through a discreet doorway to the right. The hallway and corridor was devoid of people, and even the bar, that had been quite empty of people even at a time like this. But as they passed a staircase that led down into some unforeseeable depth, a familiar voice that froze his limbs and sent a chill up his spine tore into his ears.

"Fuck, why is she so goddamn heavy?"

"There's one more alongside the target."

    A buzzing drove through his head, and the breath caught in his chest. His feet froze by the stairs, and he stared down at the darkness. She, she, she, she, that single word and that single voice crammed his head.
   
"Sir." The waiter gripped his elbow and dragged him away.
   
"Where do those stairs lead?" His voice floated out from his mouth like it was someone else's voice.
   
"Storage and the kitchen sir." The waiter replied flatly, eyes hard.
   
"But—
   
"Here, I'll be waiting outside sir." The waiter pulled open a wooden door marked 'mens' and ushered him inside.
   
Theo stood, in the centre of the white tiles, staring at the mirror. He was too pale, the pounding in his head had come back again, and the burning alcohol in his stomach tumbled and toiled. That voice and that 'she', Alexandr Hew and Elyas Azer, he wasn't stupid! He wasn't!
   
He wanted to be sick. He could feel the bile rising hotly up his throat.
   
Why was he still here?
   
Call the police, call anyone.
   
Hands strangely still, he opened the tap and dunked his head into the sink. Cold water rushed down his hair, down his head, across his skin, across his nose, across his mouth, his brows, his eyes. It was comfortable, the cold against the burning hot of his face. But it was too cold.
   
He closed the tap, looked back into the mirror, pushed his wet hair back. The cold dripped into his collar, down his shirt, but still, he couldn't think of anything. Even if he called the police, what then? He could be wrong. He could've been wrong this whole time. Mariah could've been wrong.
   
Thud.
   
The door crashed shut.
   
He looked back. Alexandr stood there, hands in his black suit trouser pockets. He hadn't noticed before, but Alexandr had changed his suit, black suit, black shirt, as dark as his eyes, so dark that you wouldn't see blood stains.
   
He could be wrong.
   
Alexandr drew his long fingers through his hair and fixed his gaze on him. There was something different about the way he looked at him. Theo glanced at the number above his head. It was still 1%, but there was something invasive about that gaze. It was almost as if... he was trying to burrow himself right into his flesh.
   
"You dropped something." Alexandr said, voice husky.
   
"Wha—
   
The words faded from Theo's throat as Alexandr lifted a crumpled piece of paper. His eyes widened, and he fumbled in his suit pocket for that folded note. Empty, there was nothing there. It was... in Alexandr's hand.
   
He couldn't move, he could only see the piece of paper and that piercing gaze. So cold, the room was so cold all of a sudden.
   
Clack.
   
Clack.
   
Clack.
   
The other man's polished leather shoes stepped towards him, handsome face growing nearer and nearer. There was no longer any space in between them; they were so close, he had to lift his head to look at Alexandr.
   
Those long fingers creased the sheet of paper in the same exact places he had done before. Each movement was meticulous, effortless, slow, Alexandr didn't even look down at his hands, his gaze was only fixed on him. And when the note was fully folded again, the other man leaned down, arms reaching forwards, encircling him. Those strong fingers reached into his pocket and dropped that piece of paper within its depths.
   
"Keep it safe." Alexandr whispered, hot breath splashing onto Theo's face. Just one inch and those lips would touch his face, gently.
   
A finger swept a wet strand of hair from Theo's face carefully, and Alexandr pressed his thumb to the flesh under his right eye, tightening second after second with a cruel pressure, "Be careful who you make friends with."
   
Theo slammed his hand into the man's broad chest, and Alexandr stumbled backwards a few steps, burning hand detaching from his face. The man's grinding gaze lifted towards him, and a deliberate smile spread over his thin lips, stretching them up and up, shrouding his sculpted face in a warped glory of beauty.
   
"Let's get a drink together, Theodore Harrow."

-

A/N: I should be able to update more regularly next week, apologies for the delay, too many tests!