Realm of the Runes: Blood Right

Chapter XI

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Lissa glared at the broad muscular back of the guy in font of her, fuming. He stopped abruptly, and pulled a card from the pocket of his distressed blue jeans, deactivating the locked door to his left. It swung open soundlessly, and he stepped aside and motioned her into the room.

Bobby bounded ahead, and flung himself on a wooden couch frame lined with worn cushions. He turned on a LCD television, watching the cartoons that danced across the screen.

Wow, I haven’t ever seen one of those! They’re from the 2010’s, aren’t they?

“Not quite what you’re used to, I’ll reckon,” Ben’s voice spoke up from behind her, and she turned around, frowning. He held out a clean glass and a bottle of orange soda, a smile twitching the corner of his mouth. 

“Here. Pour it yourself, so I can prove I’m not trying to drug you.”

“Why would I think that?” she asked suspiciously. 

He stared at her. “Okay, rule number one, stay in your car. Rule number two, if you can’t stay in your car, don’t walk through central city alone. Rule number three, don’t wear flashy clothes, and especially don’t wear stilettos. Rule number four, NEVER accept a drink from anyone you don’t know, especially if the bottle has been opened.”

She glanced down at the bottle of soda. The seal was untouched. She reddened again.

Great. Just shoved my foot in my mouth again.

She poured the fizzy orange liquid into the glass and handed him the bottle. He poured another two glasses and passed one to Bobby, who drank it greedily. Lissa sipped the sweet drink cautiously, and then took a long gulp.

This is so good! Wow. Maybe my friends are onto something when they say healthy food is boring…

She finished her glass.

I’d almost accept diabetes if I could drink this every day.

Ben was watching her with ill-concealed amusement. “First time?”

She ignored him, glancing round the room. “Do let me show you around,” he mocked. “Over here we have the lounge. Fifty inch retro LCD television dating from 2015, complete with cartoons from the 2010’s. Upcycled wooden pallet sofa, twenty dollars from a junk yard. Cushions, made by a friend. Industrial style light bulb, a dollar from the supermarket.” 

He motioned extravagantly to an open door. “Over here is the boudoir; vintage double mattress also from the junk yard, on an industrial-style concrete floor.”

A plain brown duvet was neatly tucked under the thin mattress, which had no base or bed frame to support it. He pointed to a smaller mattress in the corner, which had a rumpled bright blue blanket with trucks all over it.

“Bobby’s bed.” 

He directed her to the kitchenette, which had a pile of clean, mismatched dishes stacked neatly on the end of the bench. A very old stove with electric grids was stationed in the corner, and a little bar fridge sat in the other corner.

He opened the door of a small cupboard which stretched above the bench, and bulk packages of instant noodles, a bag of cookies, and soup sachets filled up half the cupboard. “Gourmet meals not included,” he quipped. The fridge had nothing in it but soda, half a tray of eggs, and a few yogurt pottles.

He turned to face her, his physique intimidating in the small space, and his tone sarcastic. “Welcome to the life of the rich and famous.”

She looked away, embarrassed.