The Retribution Chronicles

A d e | f i v e

Ryan lived in the centre of town in a large Victorian terrace with the same four people he'd lived with since first year, and a secret cat, Mrs Whiskers, who had a penchant for scratching Ade each and every time they crossed paths. Both Ryan and his housemates insisted she was being friendly; Ade, however, knew she was the devil incarnate, swapping horns for pricked ears. Thankfully, when Ryan packed enough people into the drafty hallways, Ade didn't have to worry about her, saving himself from a painful run-in. Except, when he turned onto Ryan's road, there Mrs Whiskers was, prowling towards him at a leisurely pace.

For a moment, Ade considered crossing the road. Inconvenient, yes, but self-preservation was no joke. Especially when Mrs Whiskers' amber eyes were narrowed to a point, precise in their glare. She inched closer while he teetered on the curb and glanced over his shoulder at the oncoming traffic. When he returned his gaze to her agile frame, her spine curved and she leapt into a neighbouring garden, saving him from shallow scratches and an unnecessary addition to his journey.

When he reached the house, the front door was ajar. Music escaped, thick with bass, into the mild evening air until Ade shut the door firmly behind himself. People lined the hallway, drinks in hand, smiles at the ready. Ade returned the favour as he made a beeline for the kitchen. It was even busier, heaving so much so that he failed to find a single unopened beer bottle. He did, however, find the next best thing.

Miriam leaned against the hulking American-style fridge and brought a clear plastic cup to her mouth. She took a demure sip of her drink and ran her tongue along her bottom lip, leaving a shiny trail along the burgundy stained swell. Beside her, Wes poured himself a drink. Whiskey it seemed, neat. Miriam laughed at something Wes said, shoulders shaking, and placed a hand on his chest. He beamed down at her, she laughed harder; Ade wanted to make him disappear. Not permanently, but he was sure an hour or two alone would be enough for him to unwind whatever dark and twisted spell Wes laced around Miriam's psyche.

"You're staring." Abi popped out of nowhere, wearing a short denim skirt and a smarmy smile. Daniel was hot on her heels, Ade's favourite navy jumper straining against his broad frame. He clapped Ade on the back almost as if he'd asked to borrow the shirt and hugged him.

"I wasn't staring," Ade muttered when he stepped out of Daniel's embrace.

"You were," Abi said. "And it's fucking weird. Either go over there or leave her alone. Don't be the creeper watching in the corner."

"Who invited her anyway?" Ade's gaze remained fixed. He'd never seen her at one of these, hadn't seen Wes in a year and a half. But here they were, together. Why had he never brought her before?

"Ryan invited her," Daniel said. "He saw her and Wes at the gym yesterday. Apparently, she barely remembered you."

Ade squared his shoulders, his expression souring. "Ryan's exaggerating," he said.

"How do you know that?" Abi asked. "It's not like you were there."

"I know Ryan." Ade broke his focus for a second, momentary and fleeting to make space for a sardonic smile, then returned his gaze to its favourite subject. "And I know her," he said.

"You most definitely do not," Abi snorted.

"But I will."

"When? So far all I've seen you do is stare."

"Don't worry about it." Ade turned. "I'll get to her eventually."

Eventually came two hours later. Miriam was in the garden, back pressed against the brick wall. Cerberus was nowhere in sight, but then Ade couldn't be too careful. He'd found her like this an hour ago, sipping something brown and carbonated while nodding along to the music, but then Wes returned and they disappeared, fading from the party until only a whisper of their presence remained.