Page 36 of Iron Blade

That was how I found myself getting into a car with a guy called Kieran O’Malley to a penthouse just a few blocks from me, in Manhattan’s Hudson Yards. In the great city of New York, walking one neighborhood over would be the difference between seeing a dump, or a penthouse. Never was that more obvious than the short, though time consuming, drive from my apartment to Eoghan's penthouse.

Kieran O’Malley, a young man who looked a little too rosy-cheeked for my taste, led me up to an elevator, swiped a keycard before pressing the button to the top floor. He stepped out of the carriage.

I lifted a brow as the double doors began sliding closed, with him on the other side.

“It’ll take you right to his living room,” he said, before he disappeared behind the metal doors, and the carriage started moving up.

I was lifted 104 floors into the sky, and deposited right into a living room that took my breath away.

The doors opened to a large, open space. It was more space, than furniture, with white barren walls, and a polished concrete floor. The visible silver ducts overhead were more of an art piece, than an appliance. Everything was black onyx, or white marble, modern and monochromatic, except for the artwork.

In silver and gold frames, up and down the large high walls was some of the most breathtaking art I had ever seen. They weren’t classical, or expensive. I didn't know the painters. I had never seen these works before, which was a shame. They were… breathtaking.

“Care for a drink Miss Kekoa?” His voice floated over me, disembodied and deep.

I looked around, searching for him. It took a minute before I found him on the floor, in front of the couch, one knee propped up, green bottle in his hand.

We were over 1,000 feet from the ground, floor-to-ceiling windows looking out to a darkened Central Park. There was just enough moonlight streaming in to see that his eyes were unfocused and glassy. He was in terrible shape. How much had he drunk?

“Have you had enough for the both of us?”

“I’ve had enough to kill an army of invading Gauls,” he chuckled, bringing the bottle to his lips and upending it with a loud gulp. His Adam’s apple bobbed, before he took it from his mouth, then swiped the droplets from his lips with his sleeve.

“What’s in that?” I asked, nodding down to his drink.

“Absinthe.”

“Are you out of your mind?” I reached down to grab it from him, remembering the stories of hallucinations, and drugs, and other insane stories from “chasing the dragon”.

He pulled the bottle away, as I knelt on the floor to grab it from him. He smiled at me with a chuckle.

“Oh, the hallucinogens have been taken out decades ago,” he said with a sigh, as if that was a terrible tragedy.

“Where did you even get Absinthe?” Now, we were both on the rug, in the space between the couch and a glass and chrome coffee table.

His hand shot out, cupping my cheek in his palm, as thumb caressed the place beneath my eye.

“Amsterdam.”

“Amsterdam… New York?” I asked, referring to the town north of Albany.

He laughed, as if it was the funniest joke he’d ever heard.

Guess we were talking about the other Amsterdam then - the one that was closer to old York.

“Come sit with me,” he said, patting the place beside him.

I didn’t hesitate, even though I knew that I was alone in an apartment with a drunk man who had tried to buy sex from me on multiple occasions. I was playing with fire, and that fucking thrilled me.

“You make me feel calm,” he whispered, as I settled on the floor with him.

He didn’t speak for a moment, as we stared at the spectacular view. Too bad the city lights were so harsh that they drowned out the stars. When humanity finally crumbled, I bet the blackened buildings would make an amazing landscape, when the stars were above.

“Are you okay, Eoghan?” I turned so that my body faced him entirely.

The view was nice. But it wasn’t what I was here to see.

“No.”

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