Page 7 of Embracing the Night

“That poor person.” I looked at Drake and then at the back of the departing stranger. “Did you see their face? How terrible. I couldn’t imagine.”

“What was wrong with their face?”

“Horrible scars. Their lips were all twisted. Whatever happened must have been really painful.”

My heart hurt for them. The one good thing that had happened in my life was that I’d never been disfigured in all the tribulations I’d gone through. As shitty as it was to admit, life was a bit easier when you were attractive, and the only thing my parents gave me was a somewhat pretty face. I couldn’t fathom going through life when most people thought you looked like some sort of monster or something.

“Nothing you can do,” Drake said softly, putting a hand on my back.

“Oh shit,” I said, looking at him. “I didn’t notice this.”

“What?” He frowned at me.

I licked my finger and reached up to rub away a smear of blood on his ear. “Can’t walk around like that, can we?”

He smiled and touched his ear. “It was dark, what can I say? Anyway, what do you want for dinner tonight? Chicken or pork?”

I thought about what we’d just done. The slavering jaws of the pigs as they’d ripped and tore at the human flesh. The snap and crackle of the bones as they bit into them. All I could do was wrinkle my nose at the thought.

“How about chicken?”

The beach house had spotlights outside, items Drake had ordered on our way here. They were battery operated and held on with simple plastic straps. He’d installed those along with an alarm system and cameras. The alarm system was one that required no additional wiring or hole drilling. Everything could be removed when we left, with no one being the wiser. Until we caught up to Sam, we couldn’t be too careful.

Drake took the linen sacks of groceries inside. From across the street, a tiny mewling sound, and when I turned, I saw a gray and white cat tiptoeing toward me. A stray from the looks of him.

“Oh, hello, baby,” I said, kneeling down. “Pst-pst-pst,” I made the little sound everyone made when trying to get a cat to come.

I loved animals. Part of what I liked about Greece was the constant bark and yowl. The place seemed to be filled with stray dogs and cats. Most people might have considered it annoying, but I enjoyed it. I’d always wanted some sort of companion but could never justify the expense. I’d wanted a dog for protection and companionship, and a cat would have been lovely to cuddle with on cold mornings. There were times when I’d daydream about nuzzling the fur as I fell asleep in my shitty little apartment.

The cat came forward and weaved its way through my legs, letting me pet it, but when I attempted to pick her up, she bolted back across the street, diving under a bush and turning her yellow eyes back toward me, quietly judging and assessing.

“Fine then. Be that way. I’ll put some food out for you though,” I said and turned to join Drake inside.

While he cooked some sort of lemon chicken and pasta dish, I found a jar of tuna in the pantry. Not a can, but a jar. Packed in honest to god olive oil instead of water. The thing had cost seven whole euros. An exorbitant fee for tuna in my mind, but Drake had insisted and had bought six of the damned things. Though, I had to admit, he was right. It was a far cry from the dollar cans I’d sometimes splurged on to get protein back in my old life. It was delicious.

After opening the jar, I dumped the contents out onto a small dish and took it outside to place on the lowest step. Across the street, the kitty was still eyeing me warily. She lifted her head, sniffing the air, catching a whiff of the treat I’d set out for her.

“There you go, sweety,” I said. “Dinner.”

Back inside, I set the alarm. The device was attached to the wall with removable adhesive strips. Drake had placed sensors on every window and door. If any were open after being set, they’d trip the alarm. Everything was connected via Wi-Fi. He even had a few outside that would alert us if anyone came near the house.

Drake set the table with dinner and wine. “Hope you’re hungry,” he said.

The chicken had been simmered in some sort of lemon cream sauce. On the side was an orzo pasta dish with olives, tomatoes and pickled peppers, along with a platter of roasted and seasoned eggplant.

“Good lord,” I said, eyeing the food as he placed some toasted pita bread. “You’re looking to get laid again later?”

“Perhaps,” he said with a grin and took his seat.

The food was just as good as it looked. It seemed there was nothing Drake was bad at. We ate and chatted, sipping wine. After some time, it was hard to really remember that we were on the run: the hunting and the hunted. It all slid away in the bliss of a pleasant evening. That was until the alarm started chiming.

Drake froze, wine glass on his lips, eyes darting to the door. He set the glass down and rushed to his laptop, pulling up the web app for the system.

“What is it?” I asked, grabbing the knife off the table and holding it, pointed down, ready for a fight.

Drake tapped on the keys and brought up the outdoor cameras. I watched his shoulders slump as he relaxed.

“Just a guy jogging with a dog. All good. He’s out on the road beyond the gate. Must have barely been in the motion sensor range.”

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