The Hotham Beta's office was the spitting image of a Christmas story-time special. Bookshelves propped up the ceiling and two fancy leather armchairs were angled towards a roaring fireplace that made the air feel sticky. The heat was almost oppressive, smothering the gooseflesh that had broken along my arms, making the skin around my swollen lips feel hot and tight. I fought the urge to lick them as I moved into the room, knowing my saliva would only dry them out more.
Lawrence was taking a call behind the desk, looking especially pale against the extravagantly dark wood. His tangerine hair was shorn at the sides but left long at the top, and he swept it back in a decidedly outback fashioned that complimented the brown flannel he wore open over a plain white tee. The sleeves rode up to his elbows as he lifted a finger with an apologetic expression, though his eyes sparkled at the sight of me.
The volume was too low to make out the other side of the conversation. I scanned the unusually organised contents of his desk to pass the time, noting the stained glass lampshade and the pop-vinyl figurines sunning themselves beneath it. Taken out of the box, of course; Lawrence had never cared about devaluing or bubble-wrapping his belongings. Instead he tended towards the opposite; like the moustache drawn on Wonder-Woman's face, making her look like a sleazy circus ring-leader.
"For the record, I think it's a bad idea, but I'll see what I can do," Lawrence said into the phone. "Yes, yes, I'll let you know how it goes. Anyways, I really do need to..."
I arched an eyebrow. Colden lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
"Uh huh." A short pause, followed by an exasperated sigh. "Look, can I call you back? I've got visitors. Yes, they're more important than you."
Another pause. I noticed Lawrence's plate of smashed avocado had gone cold, the egg yolk congealed in the rivets of the plate.
"Piper bloody Cross, that's who," he said, dropping my name like it was a grenade.
Lawrence ended the call and set the phone down, straightening his shirt as he rose from his chair. I half expected him to reach over the desk and shake my hand, and was about to ask jokingly if this was a job interview when his eyes flicked over to Colden in a wordless question.
Irked by the thought of needing his permission, I yanked my hand free of Colden's and marched around the desk, throwing my arms around Lawrence's shoulders and burying my face in his chest. If he was surprised by my sudden change of heart, it was only expressed through a good-natured chuckle as he picked me up and swung me around like a child. I felt tears spring in my eyes as I realised how much I'd grown; how good it felt to allow myself to trust him. Lawrence had proven his character beyond all others at the battle of Ridgeview, and was solely responsible for saving Colden's life.
"It's been a while, crocodile," Lawrence said with an echo of his old cheer, setting me down on my feet. "You look..."
"Tired?" I asked, glancing sidelong at Colden. The Hotham Alpha's smile was strained. "You look older. Is that a grey hair on your chin?"
YOU ARE READING
Soldier of the Sand (Witchfire 5)
FantasíaPiper Cross, an undercover spy, must relive her past as a child gladiator in order to bring the underground arena to justice. ***** Growing up gladiator is brutal. The cells are cramped...