The Summoning (Sleep Token FanFiction)

Jericho

I watched Hayley huff in anger before starting for the stairs, following Vessel to the balcony. Turning to II, I found that he had seen as well. We glanced to each other for a moment to decide whether or not to go after her and decided that we would wait. We knew that she was safe. 

"You look nervous." I leaned an elbow on the counter, facing II as he ran his hands through his hair. His eyes darted to mine for a moment before he rested his hand on the back of his neck. 

"Just..." He started, turning his drink on the counter, staring down at it, "I just feel like maybe I fucked up." 

I waited for him to elaborate as he chewed on his lip, then stood up straight, "What do you mean?"

His hand returned to his neck, scratching as he sighed. "You know I love you, Man, right?"

I narrowed my eyes to him, trying to decipher what was going on with him as I slowly answered. "You're obsessed with me, yes I know." 

"Okay, yeah, uh..." He straightened and met my eyes, sighing as if getting himself over a hurdle, "You know how I asked what you thought of dinner."

I wasn't sure if it was a question, but I humored him. "Yeah..."

"The caterers..." He stated as if struggling to continue, downing the rest of his whiskey before blurting, "Your father's here."

I blinked, looking down at him as the world around me shrunk down to suffocate me. My body froze, hand clenching my glass. 

"Four - " II started, but I was already on my way out of the venue. 

Was he still here? Had he already seen me? 

II tried calling after me, but I weaved through the crowd, eyes darting around in case my father was in the main room. I made it to the entrance doors and stepped out into the cool night air. There were a few people out here smoking and socializing. I eyed them before starting down the stairs. It wasn't as if I could just take the car and leave. 

I could take a cab. Maybe the boys would understand if I skipped the rest of the night. I felt bad leaving II that way, but maybe I had worn my heart on my sleeve with my trust in them. I had stopped hiding the fact that I couldn't hear about him. Every new award, every amazing review, the new restaurant. I couldn't handle it anymore.

It was why I didn't recognize the flavor profile of the food. Dad had never done this type of menu before. 

As I started around to the back of the building, wanting to be alone, I couldn't help but to be flooded with memories of dad's restaurant. We were in high school and the boys had taken to hanging out while waiting for me to be done helping dad for the day. The way dad would roll his eyes as they dinked around and waved me out. "Get out of here, don't be out too late."

My lungs chilled as I took in breaths faster. 

I was lost in the memories when I rounded the corner, seeing a back door open, one of the cooks standing out with a cigarette. 

I had moved out to college and Dad had to get help from the girl down the street that had been shadowing him. We had grown up together and, upon growing up, I realized she hung around the restaurant because of her home life. Her parents weren't present and she was always hungry, bussing tables to get by. Ella.

I still remembered the time my father had a screaming match with Ella's mother and her mother had resorted to screaming French curses at him. I learned French from Ella. 

I had worked years to suppress all of this and it was all coming back to the surface. 

"'Scuse me, do you have a cig I can bum?" I asked the cook at the door and she craned her head up to me.

Fuck.

Ella was adjusting her eyes to try and see me in the dark of the alley and I backed up further.

"Nevermind, sorry to bother." I turned to hurry away.

"Hey!" She shouted after me and I flinched, freezing in place. Jesus, she was intimidating. How could I forget that?

"You from the party?" She took a step closer, leaning to try and see my face as I shielded myself from view. 

"Yeah." My voice was hoarse, hands shaking as I shoved them in my pockets.

"The band there?" She took a step closer and I shuffled away just a bit. 

With the language barrier, she was always short and to the point. It seemed it had gotten easier for her, but she still had that hint of sharpness.

I scoffed at the irony, "Yeah."

There was a beat of silence and part of me hoped she had gone back inside. They were probably cleaning, finally able to take a break after getting the desert trays out for the end of the night. 

"Alright. You can have a cig if you let my dad meet the band. He's the head chef. Loves the band, but is too nervous to try and meet any of them. Says their anonymous and he shouldn't." I huffed something that was either a laugh or the beginnings of hyperventilation.

My heart ached at the comfort she had at calling him her dad. It wasn't as if I could get offended. I had basically abandoned him. 

My mouth went dry, but I felt as though I couldn't hold back, couldn't stop myself. "Okay."

There was another beat of silence.

"You're not some weirdo are you?" She leaned closer to try and see my face again and I almost laughed out loud at her boldness. 

"Depends on who you ask." I muttered, hunching my shoulders. 

"Yes, well, just so you know, I keep a knife on me. A big one." Her accent was so terribly endearing and I found myself chuckling in spite of myself. 

"Here." She offered a cigarette and I couldn't express how much I wasn't in the mood for one anymore. Or maybe I needed one more than ever. 

I reached for it and she drew it back, "You promise? He really likes these guys. Unless you thought dinner was brute."

Memories of working with her in the restaurant came back with her use of French.

This was ridiculous. Maybe if it went well with III, it would be okay for me. This wasn't who I was. This wasn't how any of this was supposed to go. 

Steeling myself, I turned and took the cigarette, knowing full well that the light from the kitchen was spilling over the alley and over myself. 

Next thing I knew, I was on the ground while Ella beat me, screaming in French. To be honest, she wasn't hurting me. She had learned how to be around siblings when we were young. As only children, it was an adjustment for both of us to live with each other when her parents went on another bender or disappeared for weeks on end. 

"Demon!" She screamed and I held a hand up as she relented on the hitting to catch her breath. I glanced up to find her crying. 

Half the kitchen staff had heard by now and was running to the door. 

I was a dead man. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Ella, what's going on?" Someone stormed out, ready to help her beat me. I knew that voice and I also knew they would beat someone up for her if she so wished. 

Panting, laying on the ground as I held an arm up in defense, I peaked up to find my dad staring down at me with a spatula in his hand. 

"Oh, Papa, this is a band member! Scared me and I sort of overreacted." Ella breathed and I glared up at her as she sent daggers down at me. At least they weren't real daggers. 

"A band member? Oh, I'm so sorry, my boy. Ella here is a little feral. I found her on the street." Dad offered me a hand, still unable to see me fully. He wasn't wearing his glasses and I almost laughed at that irony.

"Papa." Ella warned with a whine, but I saw her giving me something akin to an encouraging nod.

So, I reached out and took his hand.