The Reincarnated King (ManxManxMan)

Chapter Eight: A Normal Hallucination

~Chapter Eight: A Normal Hallucination~

Keeping my date plans from Tom is harder than I thought it would be, but so is hiding my injury. Tom is, after all, an extremely nosy person with a sixth sense for secrets. Even just thinking about keeping a secret always sets him off, and when I am excited about meeting with Ari as well as in pain from the scratches on my arm, it is a miracle that I make it to the morning of the day of my date before Tom finally butts his head in.

"All right, what's up?" Tom asks, thirty minutes into an estimated fifty minute drive. I give him a look, confused about what he means since his question lacks context, as we literally just spent the last five minutes debating the pros and cons of living in as small a town as the one we had passed through moments prior. It had maybe forty houses and a bar with little else, and it took us maybe ten seconds to drive by. Tom catches my look and huffs. "You've been jumping at shadows for the last day and a half, and you can't seem to sit still."

Though it feels kind of like I am insulting myself, I cannot help but ask, "How is that any different than normal?"

He must think the same thing since he smirks, and he also very pointedly does not argue, but he does justify his question by adding, "It's different when you're actually looking for shadows and can't keep your eyes off the clock. Are you expecting the world to end or something?"

I subconsciously reach up to rub my arm, but catching myself before I can actually touch where the injury is covered by the sleeve of my shirt, I redirect my hand to rub at my shoulder, which is a bit more natural. Only a bit, though, because I do not miss the way Tom starts to sneak glances at my shoulder immediately after, suspicious.

"No," I answer honestly. "I just, uh, have plans."

Tom remains focused on the road, but I can see the way his brow furrows. "Plans?" He asks, bewildered. "What kind of plans?"

I fidget and nearly give in to the urge to just tell him right this minute, but...at the same time, we are on our way to some ancient hillfort that is nearly an hour away from Cardiff by car, and we will likely spend about an hour there before spending another hour getting back. That is at least two hours that he could easily spend torturing me, his captive, with questions about Ari. At least in the hotel suite, I would be able to hide in my room or leave him behind in the suite entirely. Out here, there is only one car, and he is driving.

"I'll tell you when we get back," I say instead.

Tom snorts. "Oh, no, you can't just tell me something like that and then not explain."

"Watch me," I reply, starting to cross my arms before aborting when it makes the scratches on my arm, which are already angry from when I cleaned them earlier, pull and burn. They are thankfully not infected and have shown no signs of starting to become infected over the last twenty-four hours, even if there has been some minor swelling and inflammation. Since the inflammation has been going down, though, not increasing, I am taking that as a good sign.

One not-so-good sign, though, is the fact that the lion was almost definitely a hallucination because, even when I finally dared to glance at the local and country-wide news last night, there was no mention of any lion. So, unless it has successfully eaten every person it has come across and no one has been made aware that a lion is free in Cardiff, someone should have noticed the giant, grey lion wandering around the populated city.

So, while I definitely need to worry about whatever I scratched my arm on in case the infection that is coming just has not set in yet, I can at least cross off being mauled by a lion from my list of concerns.

"I hope you know that you're a piece of shit," he says, but there is no heat, just an eye roll and a hint of annoyance. "Fine, but I want the whole whatever when we return."