“Then who sent me this letter?”
Chapter 18
Fallon
Casper followed me from the bedroom into my bathroom, weaving between my legs as I stood before the mirror to get ready for the night. I loaded thick layers of mascara and painted wings over my eyelids as he meowed at my feet. It was as if Casper knew where I was going and didn’t like it one bit.
Earlier, Gramps refused to say any more about the letter and only mentioned he was tired. Once I’d started dinner, he had awoken and dragged his feet into the kitchen while I finished up Salisbury steak with a side of mashed potatoes and gravy. Both of us had remained silent throughout dinner, our thoughts straying to the letter, wondering who wrote it, and what it meant for us. Gramps didn’t have the answers, and I’d never seen him more flabbergasted and panicked, which only worried me more.
I arrived at Voodoos late, half-past ten, and the place was packed. Before I’d come to Weeping Hollow, I’d only been to a bar twice. Each occasion had been due to finals in college and colleagues at work. Yet, here I was again.
My gaze latched onto Monday’s bright red hair, and I squeezed through the crowd, failing miserably at avoiding bumping shoulders with anyone. The majority of the crowd was bunched together near the dartboards in the corner, adjacent to a large chalkboard hanging over the brick wall.
Adora was seated in the corner of the room over a high-top stool with chalk between her fingers, her long legs crossed, and eyes on Kane. Despite what happened in the dressing room, I still wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. She’d only mentioned she didn’t want to see Kane and me together, and I’d shown up and didn’t think twice if she’d be here or how my coming here would make her feel, though I only saw Kane as a friend.
I paused in the middle of the floor, scanning the crowd, mostly made up of Sacred Sea. I felt out of place as people shoved past me. My nerves crept to the surface, feeding hastily on my conscience.
“Fallon!” Fable called out when her gaze found mine from across the room. Her long and spiraling brown hair swayed above her hips as she walked toward me with her palms up at her sides. “Maverick is kicking Kane’s ass, and Kane is losing it,” she filled me in as she walked me to where a group of people crowded around. “Kane always wins. Every tournament, never fails,” she went on, and I couldn’t help but look for the Heathens—to look for Julian.
If it were at all possible, I could physically feel my heart sinking with every face my eyes crossed. It turned cold inside my chest. He wasn’t here, and I returned my gaze to Fable and forced a smile.
The others greeted me while Kane threw his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his chest. “Oh, you’re in trouble now, Mav. My good luck charm has arrived,” he called out to Maverick, and his hot and booze-filled breath spilled from his lips. I let my arms hang awkwardly at my sides, waiting for him to let me go, and eventually, he did.
“Kane, just throw the dart already,” Adora said through a sigh with a wave of her hand.
The rest agreed, shouting over the music and loud conversations. I sat beside Monday and Fable at the bar, watching as Kane straightened his form, pinched the dart between his two fingers with a squinted eye, and lifted his chin, serious mode activated.
Monday tilted her head toward me with her attention still on Kane, waiting for him to throw a dart just like everyone else. “Want a drink?”
I looked back, and Phoenix was staring at me from the corner of his eye with the bar’s phone wedged between his shoulder and head, pouring beer into a frosty mug.
“Bartender looks busy,” I pointed out, afraid. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to drink, but I’d never had to order one before. I didn’t know how. Like pumping gas for the first time, or summoning a taxi. Do I wave my hand like in the movies?
“Oh, nonsense.” Monday turned and leaned over, planting her elbows on the bar. “Barkeep, ya right out straight or what? Get my girl a drink.”
Phoenix dropped the mug on the bar in front of a customer, collected cash, and hung the phone back on the receiver before he spun to face me. His fingers gripped the edge of the bar when he leaned over. “What can I get ya?”
“A beer?”
“You’re sure?” His yellow eyes crinkled above his black mask. “What kind?”
I shrugged and pointed toward the place where they were poured. “One of those.”
He twisted his head back for a moment, and when he looked back up, humor swam in his eyes. “You want a machine pouring beer?”
“Stop messing with her and just get her a Gin and Tonic,” Fable intervened, then turned to me with her eyes skyward. “Ignore him. It’s like they don’t know how to talk to people,” she said, loud enough for him to hear, and he slid his gaze back to her.
The group went up in a roar, and I craned my neck around Fable to see that Kane had hit a bullseye, pulling in the lead over Maverick.
My drink arrived, and I sat silently in the corner as they all mingled. Kane, the dart champion, moved on to his next opponent, sliding winks and smiles my way every now and then. Even though I’d come under false pretenses, I didn’t think it would be like this, spending the night in the corner, watching him play as the girls drank and laughed freely. The rest of the guys threw banter back and forth, and I stuck out like a sore thumb, not belonging and feeling so out of place.
The music went from classic rock to party music, and a DJ replaced the band, turning the space before the stage into a heated and sweaty dance ground. There was a shift from the dartboards to the dance floor, but Kane was still high on his winning streak, and only his friends were left to watch.
“I’ll beat any of you motherfuckers!” he shouted, smashed by this time. His fingers moved around the bar. “I already beat your ass, and your ass, and your ass…” he rambled, pointing at each person he’d won against, but then his finger paused, and his smile turned from sloppy to devious.
I looked to where his finger landed, and in front of the door of the bar, the crowd parted to show three Heathens who’d just walked in. Julian, Beck, and Zephyr.
The top half of Julian’s face was covered in a mask like a phantom, his beautiful mouth on display. The same mouth I’d kissed. His gaze picked me out amongst the crowd, and everything inside me lit and lifted, laced in a crazed high. But the look in his was the complete opposite. Julian’s eyes were cold, detached, empty.
Kane continued, “And, Julian Blackwell,”—the chatter faded, and everyone’s heads turned toward the Heathens who stood with their phantom masks, dark coats, and impervious exterior— “Let’s face it, you already lost.”
Sacred Sea members snapped their mouths closed, the patrons of the bar waited on the edge of a breath.
Julian smiled, tilting his head to the side to hide it, but I still caught it. It was so quick and easy, it jumped like a living thing. He wordlessly took a seat at the bar with the other two as if Kane Pruitt wasn’t worth a syllable. Phoenix slid Julian a drink across the bar top, and he caught it before he tore his eyes from mine.
If Julian was bothered by Kane, he didn’t show it, and the night we shared hadn’t affected him either. He hadn’t said hello to me, not even a wave or acknowledgment in my direction.