Craft II (The Craft Saga)

21 - Sweet Dreams

The altercation with the weed kids and conversation with Benny Larsen had my head full of erratic thoughts as I walked back through town and to my neighbourhood. I had been stupid to get involved in that altogether considering I was literally supposed to be in hiding. Currently, no female Dagon existed apart from me, so to reveal my surname to those boys was idiotic - especially since I had most definitely pissed them off with the ass-whoopings.

Maybe they'll just think I'm someone who works for the Dagons. No one knows of my existence as Celia Dagon so they'll surely think that for sure. It's probably nothing to worry about at all...

In truth, I was worried. I was worried those boys started talking and someone somewhere did know who Celia Dagon was and that she was wanted by Roman Cabrera. I knew Asher probably wanted to kill me too, but he'd seemed to wash his hands of me altogether after our last conversation on the phone.

Those boys won't mention a thing! Otherwise, they'll be admitting they let a girl kick their asses and take their money!

Of course, that made so much sense. They'd probably never speak of this day to anyone for fear of damaging their street cred. I doubted Benny would tell anyone about me either; maybe besides his brother but Benny wouldn't go running his mouth when he was somewhat relying on me to bring him a supply. I wasn't even sure why I gave the kid my number. It was stupid to think that I could actually form a deal with this kid and make some money myself. I wasn't Asher Dagon or Roman Cabrera. I had nothing. No starting point. The fact that stealing product from Ollie, the only person I had in my life, was even a thought that crossed my mind made me feel guilty and ashamed for considering it.

Speaking of Ollie, when I finally made it back through the front door, I knew he wouldn't be here. His car wasn't parked out front for one and disappointment filled me once again, quickly replaced by a rapid pounding of my heart and a head full of possibilities.

What if he's dead?

He couldn't be. I couldn't let that even cross my mind but if he was how would I ever know? He just wouldn't come back... I couldn't sit around the house forever hoping he was alive and just waiting for him to walk through the door again. No, I had to make a plan.

One more day. 24 more hours. If there is no sign of Ollie at all, I will go looking for him.

It would be risky and stupid and he'd kill me for it but he'd basically saved my life. He had done so much for me and I would not sit around doing nothing if he was possibly in trouble.

I spent the rest of the day thinking up a plan of action. Where would I go first? Newton factory? No, I could visit some of the houses he made drops to and ask if they'd seen him; that would be a good place to start. The only issue was that I didn't have a gun and I certainly needed one if I was going to venture out of Garden City to hunt down the drug trafficker who'd saved me from imprisonment by the biggest drug-lord in New Jersey.

God, you couldn't write my fucking life!

I made a grilled cheese sandwich and sat in front of the TV for a while as my plans began to come together. I didn't eat the grilled cheese sandwich. I'd left it on the coffee table to cool and drifted deep into my thoughts and by the time I'd snapped out of it, it was cold.

I cleaned the house to take my mind off Ollie and my crazy plan for a while and then I took a bath and spent time pampering myself with a hair and face mask, shaved my whole body and painted my finger and toenails.

Evening drew in and as it became dark I double checked everywhere was locked up before turning everything off downstairs and retiring to my bed. I turned the bedroom TV on for some background noise as I lingered on the chat between Ollie and me on my phone. I wanted so badly to send something to him but at this point I knew he wouldn't read it. If Ollie had his phone, he would have reassured me he was okay by now; he would never leave me hanging and that meant he didn't have his phone or any access to communicating with me whatsoever. The knowledge of that left a deep pit in my stomach that wouldn't go away and was gradually growing bigger.