The church is small, cozy, and most importantly, built of bricks. No wolf is going to huff and puff and blow this house down, so I'm hoping this means that Insomniacs won't be able to force their way in, either. Josh replaces me as Noah's crutch, and I follow the pair inside. I close the heavy door behind me and click the deadbolt with my thumb. The metal is cool against my skin.
The room is only little, maybe five metres times eight, but the ceiling arched above us, stealing away any sense of claustrophobia. Tall stain glass windows are boarded up, nails sticking erratically out of the mortar like hands reaching out to snare loose clothing. A few candles are scattered about the room, casting just enough flickering light to see by. Oddly enough, they must be scented –the whole room smells like vanilla. Rows of pew stand to attention, all facing the raised platform like school boys in line. Thea is seated in the front row, staring off into space. On the dais, in the place of the altar, is a pile of blankets.
This is where Josh dumps Noah. He lands with a huff and the mountain of pillows and blankets squeaks. Noah laughs and shifts to his side, taking his weight off of the pile with a wince. Out from under him emerges a girl, fair hair falling out of her ponytail in a bird's nest. The girl glares at him, grey eyes wary. She can't be more than twelve.
She scoots over to make room and Noah lies back. His movements are carefully controlled, taut muscles and testing his injuries before he closes his eyes. Josh ducks under a curtain further back into the church. I don't see how I didn't notice it earlier –it's a shower curtain so bright a pink that it seems to give off more light than the candles. Smiling yellow ducks glare at me from the plastic like creepy little sentinels.
I tear my gaze away from the guard-birds as the girl shifts hers to me. "I thought that we weren't going to keep her."
"We're not. She's just here for the night." Thea says. I can only see the back of her dark head, but she's bent, looking at her hands. "Just get in here already, Avery."
Reluctantly, I slink up the aisle. Floorboards creak under my feel, groaning as if the church itself wants me gone. I fold myself down on Noah's other side, using him as a barrier between me and the girl. I'm not quite willing to trust these people yet and this seems like as close to high grounds as I can get.
Noah already has a black eye, the skin swelling his lids closed. His lip is torn, swelling into fullness and the left side of his face is a mess of blue and purple.
The girl doesn't speak. She just stares at me, grey eyes calculating. She reminds me of an owl, watching a mouse with the knowledge that it can kill. Coupled with white-blond hair, dark lashes and circles of pink on her cheeks that would make and angel look corrupt, it's more than a little disconcerting.
"Hazel, aren't you going to introduce yourself?" Noah asks without opening his eyes. The girl puckers her rosebud lips, considering. She sticks her hand out to me. A scar circles her thin wrist like a bracelet, still new and puckered. It must have been recent.
"Hazel Major. And you are?" Hazel speaks like an adult –mature and vaguely condescending.
"Avery Dorm." We shake over Noah's prone form.
"We're all acquainted, then." Josh pushes the army of ducks out of his way, first-aid kit in hand as he walks over. "Shove over, munchkin."
For a second, I think he's speaking to me, and look appropriately outraged. Then Hazel moves to sit at the edge of the dais, back straight against the wall. She's an owl on her perch, keeping an eye on the mice.
Josh looks over Noah, frowning at the torn skin and drying blood. After a moment of careful consideration, he unwraps exactly one Band-Aid and covers a scratch on Noah's cheek. "There. You'll live."
"Jeez, thanks man." Noah rolls his eyes, and winces as his cuts are pulled.
"No worries. It's the least I could do." Josh leans back against the wall, head resting against hands. I wait for him to come back, to check over the rest of Noah's injuries, but he stays where he is. Fingers clasped behind his head, leaning back against the mountain. He even starts whistling a tune.
"Um," Josh looks over at me, faintly amused to find that I can speak. "Shouldn't someone check to see if his ribs are alright?"
Josh just shrugs. "Dunno, should we? That," he gestures to the plaster, "was the full extent of my medical expertise. If you have a better idea, feel free to contribute."
I glance at Thea. She's still off in her own world, fingers wringing her tank top into ruin. With a sigh, I reach over and tug up Noah's shirt. Noah stiffens, stifles a groan with a clenched jaw. Josh raises his eyebrows, but thankfully says nothing. Yet. It's still gloomy in the church, but I swear that I can see Noah blushing.
I spread my fingers over his side and Noah sucks in a breath. My hands stop, and his cheeks redden further.
"Cold hands." He mutters. I snort and feel along his ribs. The bruises here are darker than on his face, casting fair skin in garish shades. I can clearly see the imprint of a boot stamped onto his side, and cringe despite myself. Dark splodges decorate his skin from just under his arm to his hipbone. He was going to be feeling this for a while. I trace the lines of his ribs, one at a time. Softly at first, but when Noah doesn't complain, I press harder, feeling for any cracks. Under the discolouring, his skin is fair, blue veins like cracks in a glacier. He's thin, but not alarmingly so. I can see the fine muscles of his stomach shifting gently as he breathes. A fine line of pale hair trails down from his belly button.
I cough and pull back. My eyes fly up to the ceiling, away from anything dangerous. I can see spots of mold.
"No broken ribs that I can feel," I say, "but life is going to suck for you for the next week or so. I'd suggest painkillers, but..." Josh helpfully reaches into his kit and tosses me the first packet he sees. I toss them right back. "Those are birth control pills."
At this, Noah yanks his T-shirt back down. His cheeks are so red that he could pass for a fire truck. "I'll be fine." He sits up, wiggling away from me. Thea snickers from her seat.
"What exactly happened to you?" Hazel asks. "I thought that you were just getting toothpaste."
I'd very much like to know, myself. I have no idea how Noah and Thea ended up with the gang, why they were angry enough to leave their footprints on Noah's skin.
Thea sighs, straightening her spine. Her olive-green tank top is wrinkled, the candlelight highlighting shadows until it looks like camouflage.
"After Noah and I left to look for Eli, we ran into the gang. We'd checked a few of the old apartments, and were about come back here. We were leaving the last building and when appeared out of thin air. We didn't even hear them come in. They must have seen us enter and decided to set a trap. When we came down the stairs, they were waiting in the lobby."
"They grabbed me first. I fought back –scratched one guy's cheek to shreds, and he screamed like a baby– but there were five of them against the two of us. Noah landed a few punches as well, but they held us down. They had the zip ties with them. Two of them tied us up and dragged us over to the supermarket, the others laughing and boosting. The guy carrying me already reeked of alcohol –they were at the bottle long before they found us. He kept muttering that they had lost one girl, weren't going to let another get away. At first I thought that he was just crazy, but they must have recognised Noah from your daring escapade." Thea sounds more than a little sarcastic about the last part.
I know the story from here. Thea dances around a few details, probably in an attempt to spare Hazel, but I gather enough. They hadn't hurt Thea, not in the way that they wanted to, but they were close. When I glance at Hazel, her face is solemn, lips pressed into a tight line. She can read between the lines as well as I can.
When she gets to the part about my saving their asses –or, as Thea says, charging in screaming like a banshee and bashing the gang leader over the head with my club– Noah takes over. Thea returns to staring, her gaze fixed on her boots. She's less fierce, less fearless when she's quiet. She looks haunted, the past following her like a ghost.
Noah speaks quietly, but doesn't try to soften his recount. Not even when he reaches the part about me killing the gang leader. My arms wrap around my knees. I killed a guy. Not an insomniac, already lost. Not in self-defence, a last resort with a gun to my head. I walk in with the intention to help Noah and Thea, and left with a man's blood painting my shirt like a brand.
When the story is finished, and my face is pressed tight against my legs, Josh stand up. He stretches, working his muscles back to life. The quiet, sombre mood of the story starts to fade as he grins at me.
"Alright, then. Moving past the gloom-and-doom." He spreads his arms wide, embracing the church like a preacher, "Avery, this is where we've been staying for the past few days, and we plan to be here a while. So get comfortable. Thea will lend you clean clothes until we can find some of your own, and we have enough food for aa few days yet, so you don't need to worry about that. The bathroom is thataway, and yes, the water still works, though it's cold as a bitch. And then, there's the best thing of all," he gives me a big, cheesy grin, "you can pick anywhere you like to sleep."
"Hold on." Thea says, "She's not staying." Josh's arms drop back to his sides.
"I think we've established that she is." He says easily.
Thea glares and the return of the ice queen begins. "We don't need her, we can't afford to keep her, and she's already brought trouble enough. She's leaving."
"I think you'll find that we do need her. Look!" He gestures at Noah, whose cheeks are slowly returning to a normal colour, "Avery patched up Noah. I can't do that, and I know for a fact that you can't either."
"Oh, please. She poked his chest and told him that it was going to hurt. Even you could do that."
I frown. My mum is a doctor back home, and I grew up in and around the hospital. I had been going to her lectures since I was five. I used to 'patch up' my friends after falls in gymnastics, dang it. I knew what I was doing... vaguely.
"We can't kick her out, Thea. She saved us." Noah says. He doesn't move from his spot, but his eyes are open now, defiant. They're hazel, not green. I think I like that more.
Thea's lips thin in annoyance. "She got us into that situation in the first place. If she hadn't dragged you two into her shit with the gang, they wouldn't have come after us. We owe her nothing." The last words are said between gritted teeth.
"Fine. We'll vote." Josh says. Thea rolls her eyes, disgusted. "Hey, am I not being fair? Am I not being diplomatic? This is still America, and we're still a godforsaken democracy, for all the good it did us."
"All those in favour of keeping the stray?" He and Noah raise their hands. Josh's brow creases as he looks at Hazel. "All those against?"
Thea tosses her hair back and raises one slender arm, fluid and proud. Hazel does nothing.
"You need to vote, Hazel." Josh's arms fold over his chest. She shrugs.
"Well, we're obviously keeping her. The only other option is to kill her, so that she doesn't find us again. And somehow, I don't think that will happen." She steals a glance at Noah, who avoids her eyes. "Anyway," Hazel smiles, "I've always wanted a pet."