“Don’t move,” he growled. Then he slammed the door. I told myself to move. But it was like my muscles were frozen. The door wrenched back open, and a ball of fabric was thrown at me.
“Cain is there.” He pointed at the door three feet from my head. Then he slammed the door again. I looked at the fabric in my hand, shaking it out until I realized it was a t-shirt. It was fucking huge and smelled like motor oil and man.
I didn’t actually mind the smell. I slipped the shirt over my head and it fell to my knees. He was huge. I heard a soft noise from down the hall, and I turned to see Solomon standing in the doorway of what I assumed was his room.
“I think Goliath’s softening. It helped that he found you last night. He’s not as heartless as he likes to pretend to be.”
I stared back at the giant’s door. Goliath. It suited him. “He was there?” I whispered as I walked toward Solomon. He gave me one of those panty-dropping smiles, and nodded.
He shut his door and met me halfway. “Yep. Worked out it was your sheets freaking you out. Then Cain punched him in the face. It was all really exciting. Pity you weren’t awake for it,” he laughed.
I didn’t know what to say to that. Heat warmed my cheeks at the idea they’d all seen my night terrors. I wasn’t embarrassed exactly, although I hated appearing weak in front of them. “Sorry. I sleep heavily during the nightmares. It’s like I’m trapped until it all plays out again.”
I hated sleeping. But the baby was sapping my energy at an alarming rate, so all I wanted to do was sleep. It was an exhausting tug of war between my body and my mind.
Emotion raced through Solomon’s eyes; pity, rage, empathy, determination. It was an interesting mix. He grabbed my elbow, leading me back down the hall. “It’s late, Cain will be in the garage. How about we get some food in you and then you can see him? Sweetie won’t be in the kitchen, but I can make you whatever you want. Or I can take you to the diner down the road. They have a great all-day breakfast.”
I didn’t want to tell him I had no money. Well, that was a lie. I had about two hundred dollars in the bank. I needed a job. I definitely challenged the stereotype that immortals were all rich and eccentric. I nailed the eccentric bit, but I was poor as fuck.
A little of it was my lifestyle. I’d never stayed in one place for long. I picked up money and jobs haphazardly. I didn’t need money really. I had homes littered around the world, humble shacks that were all unfortunately traceable back to me. I needed to get rid of some, but couldn’t do that without revealing I was alive and back on earth. So for now, I was poor.
I would take this safe haven for as long as I could, then I would take the baby and run. Live like a human. I thought about the redheaded woman who had rescued me from the depths of my own personal hell. Hope. Such an apt name. She might know someone who could hook me up with some fake identification. I looked at Solomon who seemed to be waiting for my response.
“Uh, I’ll just have toast, if I could. I’m having trouble accessing my money right now.”
Solomon actually rolled his eyes at me. “Stop. If you need money, we can give it to you. You need clothes?” His eyes took in Goliath’s huge shirt. “Though I kinda like the way you look in a Damnation shirt.”
I looked down at the shirt, the horse head motif from the patches screen printed on the front. It was pretty cool. I didn’t say that though. Instead, I frowned at him. “I can buy my own clothes and breakfast. I don’t want your money.”
Solomon laughed, and held up his hands. “Sure, Dippy. But I’m starving so we are going to the diner. Let’s ask Cain if he wants to go too.”
We walked across the parking lot, the doors to the strip joint chained and padlocked shut this early in the morning. There were a few cars and bikes in the carpark even now.
We found Cain in a workshop tucked beside the strip club. He was standing in front of a dismantled bike on some kind of platform, his big hands working in the tight spaces with ease. There seemed to be a half a dozen bikes around the room in various states of dismantlement. Old school metal music played over the speakers and Cain sung softly as he worked.
Solomon put his fingers to his lips and whistled. Cain’s head shot up and he smiled our way. Holy shit, what a smile.
He pulled a remote out of his pocket and turned off the music.
“Sera. How did you sleep?” Then he seemed to realize what he was saying and grimaced. “You know, after we left?”
Solomon laughed and slapped him on the back. “Good work, asshole.”
I gave Cain a soft smile. “I slept fine, thank you.”
He looked at my shirt and frowned. “Why are you wearing Goliath’s shirt?”
I flushed, and pulled it out, looking for his name somewhere. How the hell did he know that it was Goliath’s shirt?
Solomon wrapped an arm around my shoulder and squeezed me tight. I tried not to stiffen at his touch. “We all have colors associated with us. Goliath’s is white, hence why his horsehead is white.” He looked at Cain. “She was looking for you, so she could borrow a shirt, but found Goliath’s room instead.”
Cain’s face went from surprise to worry and back again. “Was he… civil?”
Laughter bubbled up from Solomon’s chest until he was bent over, sucking in air like he was about to die. “Civil. Fucking civil. Goliath,” he hissed out between gasping breaths. It was the kind of laugh that you couldn’t help but giggle along with, even if you didn’t get the joke.
I shook my head at Solomon. “He was perfectly polite, if scary as hell.”
Solomon was still wheezing, and Cain punched him in the kidney. “It wasn’t that funny dickhead.” He looked back at me, his eyes soft. “Do you have everything you need?”
Solomon finally straightened. “I’m taking Dippy to breakfast and then to buy some clothes so she doesn’t have to keep taking her life in her hands by borrowing G’s. If you would like to come and chaperone, you're more than welcome.”
Cain threw down his wrench and picked up his cut, slipping it over his inked arms. “I could eat. Let’s go.”
We stopped outside the workshop in front of a couple of bikes. Not going to lie, it took me an embarrassingly long time to work out that we were going to ride to the diner. On a bike. Because they were bikers.
“Uh, I thought you said it was just down the road. Maybe we should walk? You know, exercise is good for pregnant women.” Yeah, I was playing the pregnancy card right now.
“Aww Dippy. Don’t you trust us?” Normally, I would have taken the challenge head on. I mean, I couldn’t really die from a little bike accident. I was like one of those everlasting lightbulbs. I’d just glow and glow for all time, unless someone got a baseball bat and smashed me to pieces.
But the baby? I didn’t know, and I found myself not wanting to take the risk.
Cain looked over at me, and he must have seen the worry, the indecision on my face.
“It’s a couple of miles down the road, we can drive if you want. But I promise, you’ll be as safe on the back of my bike as you would be in a car. I won’t let anything happen to you or the baby.”
His words sounded like so much more than a promise not to ride like a lunatic and kill us both. No, his words sounded like a vow, and they poked tiny holes in the armor around my mummified heart. I swallowed hard, blinked back emotional tears that threatened to gather in the corners of my eyes and make us all uncomfortable, and nodded.