Page 11 of Seer

He’s a doctor, after all.

“Do you think I did the right thing bringing Seer home?”

He seems to consider the question for a while, his expression mirroring the same turmoil I feel in my soul. Graveyard sighs profoundly and shakes his head. “Honestly, Prez? I’m not so sure.”

CHAPTERFIVE

The taxi is long gone, but I’m still standing where it left, reveling in the magnificence before my very eyes.

The Ruthless Kings’ clubhouse looks just as Mama described–a picturesque plantation house with a charming wrap-around porch.

Even from a distance, I can’t help but marvel at the grandness of the old structure, emphasized by the beautiful flower garden on either side of the long driveway. A feeling of nostalgia swamps me as my eyes fall on the wooden swing sitting a few feet below the porch stairs. The swing keeps swaying gently back and forth despite the stillness of the evening, adding to the fairytale aura of the house. The monstrous motorcycles parked haphazardly out front are at odds with the rest of it, but they add some reality to the scene, keeping it from falling into the fantastical.

This place is truly an artist’s dream.

I can imagine how blissful it’d feel to sit on one of the rocking chairs scattered around the porch with a good book and a cup of rose tea. I feel a strange warmth settling in my stomach at the thought. The feeling doesn’t last long, however.

Help him!

Mama’s urgent voice breaks into my subconscious, shattering whatever illusion I am trapped in. I shake my head back to reality. Once again, I’d allowed myself to sink too deeply into my thoughts–typicalTory.

I’m here on a mission…And with that thought in mind, I march up to the front. It is with the same determination that I press the doorbell.Once. Twice….

An immense man with piercing green eyes and interesting tattoos pulls the door open from within crawling up his muscular arms.

“Umm… Hello…?” His greeting is hesitant but polite, at least.

“He’s here, isn’t he?” I ask, seeing no reason to bother with pleasantries.

He tilts his head slightly to the side to get a better look at me. “Uh… Who?”

I recognize that look in his eyes. I’ve seen it a thousand times over. One symptom of mild autism is that I sometimes become too self-absorbed to read the room, which often makes me come across as crass and mulish.

Some people who are not so nice have used terms like looney or weirdo.

It’s not like I care what people think about me, but I’ve learned that I need to adjust to them… because, naturally, I’m the odd one. It’s kind of unfair to blame others when I’m the one who lacks the proper social skills.

“I’m here to help,” I explain, trying for an expressive approach. “Mama sent me to look after his eyes.”

“I’m sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong address.”

He shuts the door in my face, but I quickly reach out to slam my palm against the wood surface. “Wait!”

He frowns into my face as if he doesn’t understand why he’s being bothered by some crazy woman on a seemingly peaceful evening.

“I’ll speak to the person in charge,” I say, looking him squarely in the eyes. Anyone else would’ve found this man’s broody expression intimidating, but I need him to move his vast frame aside so I can go into the house and set things in motion. “Can I meet with Pocus?”

His expression flashes between confusion, surprise, and the aloof masks he’s worn since he opened the door. All in the space of a split second. “I am Pocus.”

I should have sensed it the moment I laid eyes on him, but seeing as I have a one-track mind, the fact probably flew over my head. Slowly, I appraise him from head to toe. I’d imagined Pocus as a stout old man with a receding hairline, but this works. I pull my lips into what I hope passes as a polite smile and extend my hand to him.

“Hi, I’m Tory Cromwell.”

* * *

She seems odd, more in looks than in character.

Miss Cromwell seems to be in her early twenties, with frizzy red hair that frames her long, narrow face like wildfire. Her skin is a smooth honey bronze that hints at an African American heritage. She has enormous brown eyes, the color of melted chocolate. I’d say she’s easy on the eyes, except there’s an eccentricity about her that takes one’s attention off her looks.

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