ShadowBorne

Chapter Four

Outside, I drew in a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs all the way down. The clean fresh air was nothing like the choking lavender that clung to the hotel room whether or not I left the windows open. 

Clean air smelt great! 

This was the city too busy for the hour considering how much of a small town it was. The street was in full motion and cars beeped their horns, speaking the language of impatience. There were vendors lined on the sidewalks and carts pressed close together, smoke rising as meat sizzled.

Skewered hot dogs, sausages split open and dripping, pretzels stacked in glass cases that reflected the neon signs overhead and what have you… The smell hit me hard. I could literally feel the grease in my throat. It made my stomach tighten and my mouth water all at the same time. My belly growled. 

People brushed past me without apology and as I tried to push through the crowd, someone stepped on my heel and muttered something sharp before disappearing into the mix. A couple walked hand in hand whispering sweet nothings, barely audible to anyone but them and at my right, laughter burst from a group clustered around a cart. One of them looked ridiculously drunk and leaned on the others for balance. 

But the rush hour was in my favour because nobody stopped or looked twice. I let myself fall into the rhythm of the street, hands in my pockets, shoulders loose but ready. It was so easy to blend in because everyone else wanted to disappear into their own night just as badly as I did.

Although I came out with the intention to just take a walk, the moment my eyes fell on the sign post of the bar, I knew I wanted some. Music boomed through the door every time it opened, something old and low and steady and I did not hesitate. I pushed ahead and made towards the door. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The familiar smell wrapped around me immediately. I hadn't smelled real beer in years, just the usual cheap gin I bribed the warden into getting me. The bar was crowded but not packed. The bartender moved fast, sliding drinks across the counter and wiping it down with a cloth that had seen better days. 

Conversations overlapped, voices rising and falling and glasses clinked in the distance. After giving it a thought, I took a stool and ordered a beer. It was cold and sweating against the glass. The perfect temperature. I wrapped my fingers around it and just savoured the moment for a while,  grounding myself in the weight of it as the chill seeped into my skin. 

Finally, I lifted the glass just as someone accidentally bumped into me causing the beer to slosh and threatening to spill over the rim.

“Sorry,” the man said hastily.  

“It’s fine,” I replied, steadying the glass.

He slid onto the stool beside me, close enough that our arms almost touched and I mentally withdrew instantly. He smelled like cologne layered over smoke and I found it strangely comforting. 

We sat  shoulder to shoulder, facing forward. Neither of us spoke but I felt an irregular chill. Like his eyes were fixed on me. I turned slowly and realised he was actually looking at me. My stomach tightened and my pulse kicked up hard enough that I felt it in my throat. Suddenly, I was conscious of my surroundings all over. I forced myself to take a slow sip of beer, keeping my movements deliberate so as to hide my panic.

His eyes narrowed just slightly and his head tilted. 

“Excuse me,” he finally said. “Have we met before?”

The air between us felt thick. “I don’t think so,” I replied. “Sorry.”

He did not look convinced and his gaze lingered, sweeping my face like he was rearranging features, trying to place me. “But you look strangely familiar,” he said. “Very.”

I lifted the glass again, casual, unbothered. “I get that sometimes. Ever heard of a body double?”

He chuckled softly and whispered almost to himself, “of course” unconvinced. 

His eyes didn't leave me and I knew then that I could not stay another minute in that building. 

Nodding, I lifted the beer in a small gesture. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” he replied, still staring.  

I stood and moved away from the bar, weaving through the bodies, the sound and the heat. I didn't bother looking back. I pushed the door open and stepped out into the street as casually as I could but the moment the city swallowed me again, I increased my pace, walking fast and cutting through crowds. My heart hammered, but I kept my breathing steady by counting one to three in my head. 

Every reflection felt like a threat and every voice behind me made my shoulders tighten. I just wanted to get to my room. By the time the hotel came into view, my chest felt tight, like I had been holding my breath without realizing it.

Inside, the lobby felt brighter than usual. I nodded at the desk without meeting their eyes and headed straight for the elevator. The doors slid shut and the hum of the cables filled the small space. I leaned back against the wall, pressing my head into the cool metal and in that moment, I realised that out of sight isn't out of mind. Although I was out of prison, I was not invisible.

In my room, I locked the door and stood there listening. No sound came from the hallway and finally, I slid down until my back hit the door and I let myself breathe hard, adrenaline draining slow and heavy.

The envelope was still on the table. I pulled the phone out of my pocket and I placed it to sit beside it.

I crossed the room and sat down, not taking my eyes off it for a moment. It was almost like they might move if I looked away. 

He knew exactly what he was offering. I wouldn't be safe without a covering for long and returning to him was just survival wrapped in control.

But I thought of the man in the bar and how close that had come. And taking a deep breath, I picked up the phone, turned it on and dialed the number of the same man I wanted to get my pound of flesh from. 

It rang once and his voice came through.

“I knew you would come around,” he said.

“Whatever. I am in,” I replied. “But only for a while.”

Satisfaction hummed beneath his silence and I could swear he had that stupid grin plastered on his ugly face. 

“You always were practical,” he said.

“This is temporary,” I repeated. “Do not get it twisted.”

He laughed. “We will see.”

I ended the call and set the phone down but I did not feel relieved. I looked at the envelope again. Stared at the money and what it represented.

“You don’t know what's coming, trust me.” I whispered into the silence because this was strategy.

I touched the edge of the bills, my thumb brushing over the worn paper. Getting close to him meant safety but in the long run, it meant an opportunity to finally make him bleed.

This is not forgiveness. This is redemption disguised.