Page 27 of Prometheus' Priestess

The sound of measured steps walking towards them, echoing and bouncing off the marble flooring had both Amara and Prometheus turning around. A tall, bird-like woman approached them. It wasn’t simply the hook nose that gave the impression of a beak, but the high, white Victorian collar and the severity of her grey hair pulled back into a tight bun that illuminated her forehead and pointed chin, an unfortunatecombination.

“I’m terribly sorry, dears, but this exhibition is now closed. I’m going to have to ask you both to make your way towards the exit.”

The exit, which the woman in question had come from, was right behind them to their left. There was no sign of the other man, the one Amara had been too terrified to potentially bump into alone enough to approach a stranger. The bird woman continued to stand there, unmoving from her spot, practically ushering them out of the door with her stoicism. Once outside, they both stood under the robust stone brick entranceway. In good old traditional Scottish style, it had begun raining and the dark had seeped into the night sky. Time had flown after all. Amara worried at her lip with her teeth, taking a chunk of skin withit.

“Thank you … for before,” Amara clarified.

“I was happy to assist.”

Prometheus gazed intently at Amara, but she only made eye contact for a split second before turning her own gaze away and biting back tears.

“I feel like I owe you something.” She laughed.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

When she didn’t say anything, Prometheus took her silence as his cue toleave.

“Would you like me to call you ataxi?”

She shook her head.

Prometheus mistook her shake as a sign to leave her alone.

“Well, it was nice to meet you. Take care,” he said softly.

“Wait …”

He turned back to face her and watched again as she lowered her head in embarrassment to hide her face. Whoever had done a number on this poor woman deserved to be pounded into the ground until they were dust, hethought.

“I, uh … don’t like taxis. But I also don’t like walking alone in the dark. Would you ... would you mind if …”

“I can walk with you,” he said immediately and he noticed her shoulders visibly relax until her glance went beyond him. Turning, Prometheus saw a short man wearing a blue cap that had blonde hair flicking out underneath either side of it. His baseball jacket and baggy beige trousers didn’t make him look particularly threatening. If anything, he looked like your average run-of-the-mill human. His companion had gone sheet white nonetheless.

“You want to get going?”

Her eyes darted back to Prometheus, the fear an insidious black thing that crawled behind her eyes. So, she was already acquainted with the worst of humanity’s traits. A pity. A damn pity, Prometheus thought.

A sharp nod from Amara and Prometheus was striding out into the rain, Amara’s hurried footsteps clipping shortly behind him until she caught up to his stride. She didn’t tell him which way to go, but he figured he would wait until the other man was out of earshot and she relaxed once again. For now, she kept her arms firmly crossed against her chest as they walked against the wind, which was beginning to pick up. She walked along the edge of the street, flirting with the gutter.

It irked Prometheus. Usually, he’d have preferred to have her on his inside, closer to the safer side of the walkway. But she seemed more comfortable walking at the edge so when they turned the corner up ahead, she wouldn’t bump into anyone, he supposed. He was getting the sense that this woman was big on personal space. The thought of what must have happened to ensure that protection was at the forefront of her mind made the colour of Prometheus’ assumptions darken until she suddenlystopped.

“Everything ok?” He turned to her.

“I forgot. I need to grab something for dinner,” she saidnervously.

“I couldeat.”

She chanced another look at him, caught him grinning at her.

“I have no idea where around here is good,” shesaid.

“I do. There’s actually a really great place just up around the corner on the left here,” Prometheus told her. He waited for her to nod in agreement, slowly because spooking her was not an option − she was far too intriguing − before leading the way.

A minute later he found himself unexpectedly laughing. Because for all her nervous disposition and manners, his companion couldn’t hide her confoundedness at being brought to a chicken shop that clearly catered for the late-night drunks and university students. Luckily, it was still early in the evening so the shop was deserted apart from the young man behind the counter, texting on his phone.

“I swear, they do the best chicken in the whole of Edinburgh.” Prometheus held his hands up, the size of small baseball mitts, still laughing.

“You better be right about that,” Amara muttered as she bowed her head, brushed past him in the doorway, and went in.

---