THE BEAST ─ five hargreeves

[ 012 ] delores is stabbed by her husband's mistress

XII.

d e l o r e s   i s   s t a b b e d
b y   h e r   h u s b a n d ' s
m i s t r e s s

—"HEY, ZARA? ZARA? Wake up. We need to get going."

There was a pause, and then the voice that was pushing itself into Zara's subconscious came again. It was more insistent this time, with a slight note of what might have been fear.

"You're not . . . dead, are you?"

The girl's eyes fluttered open to the sound of a familiar voice and the sharp, bitter taste of powdered nutmeg in her mouth. Her vision was blurred at first, and she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. A figure was staring at her with furrowed brows and an uncharacteristically nervous look plastered across his face.

Had she passed out? When? Why?

When her sight cleared, she found that it was none other than Five. Zara sat up immediately, only to realize it was a mistake when her head started pounding.

She coughed a few times, the spice making her throat sting, and Five watched her carefully as if he was afraid she might pass out again. "What happened? And why does my mouth taste like someone botched a pumpkin spice latte?"

Zara pressed a hand to the back of her head, trying—and failing—to ease the pain. It was then that she got a good look at her surroundings.

She sat slumped against a shelf of cracker boxes in the darkness of what looked like a department store. Ahead of her were rows upon rows of clothing and food, with the occasional pair of mannequins propped in extravagant poses. Blue-black light enveloped the empty store, and it was only possible to see Five in the glow of the neon red "EXIT" signs.

"You passed out," Five stated the obvious, "So, I spacial-jumped us across town. The eye hasn't been bought yet. You said something about running an errand, right?"

A sinking feeling settled itself in the pit of Zara's stomach. "Is—Is this the store on Tenth Street? The Gimbel Brothers?"

"Yeah."

Zara sighed softly, glancing around for two agents in creepy masks. This was it, then. Five would probably go down fighting, so she needed to distance herself from him before Hazel and Cha-Cha showed up. She felt around for her bag, only to find that it had already been opened.

Most of the contents of the yellow Vancouver Animal Shelter drawstring pouch had spilled out and were strewn across the carpeted floor.

Her first-aid kit had been wrenched open, with Band-Aids and colourful pill bottles scattered around—almost as if someone had been frantically searching for supplies. It was a miracle her cockatoo mask stayed buried deep. That was one thing she really did not want to explain.

"Whoa," Zara gave a soft laugh, the noise echoing slightly in the big, empty shop. "You really did think I was dead, didn't you?"

Five scoffed, but didn't meet her eyes. "I was only worried about Kiki. I don't have time to adopt a parrot with the apocalypse coming."

The cockatoo perked up a little at the sound of her name, but stayed quiet. Teleportation was not a fun thing for birds, and Kiki looked fairly nauseous at the moment.