The Next Step

~2~

I wake in a small room that smells like dusty old books and mothballs. I groan and sit up, stretching out the kinks in my back and wondering what in the hell happened. I look around and reassess my judgement of the room. It's more like a cupboard, and I'm pretty sure that I can touch both walls at the same time if I really reach for it.

The stranger's voice rumbles from the other side of the doorway, and I employ one of my most useful self-preservation techniques...I eavesdrop.

"No, Sir. I'm serious. She has no clue..."

His voice fades as he apparently walks away, and I suck up some courage. I survived Jericho, I can deal with whatever crap this guy wants to throw at me. I storm through the door and march straight for the first exit I see. I note that I'm in some freaky Gothic mansion, and the man races forward and literally sweeps me off of my feet before I reach the kitchen door.

"Slow down, Red," he says while I struggle to get away. I manage to land a good elbow to his ribs, and he lets out a satisfying whoosh of air. He doesn't let me down, but I do sense a bit more reluctance in his muscle tension.

Good.

"Don't call me that," I sigh as he carries me into a dilapidated living room that has apparently been host to a frat party or a pack of wild dogs. The sofa cushions are torn and leaking stuffing, and the drapes are more hole than fabric. The carpets sport suspicious dark patches, and there is a distinctive smell.

He drops me onto one of the couches and stands tall over me. "You can't leave, Lia. I won't hurt you, but you must stay until my superiors figure out what to do with you."

I tell him where he can shove that idea.

He runs his hands through his wavy black hair and mutters to himself.

"...you get me into, Jer...completely untrained...dangerous..."

He paces for at least five minutes while these snippets make their way to my ears, but still manages to stop me every time I try to rise from my spot.

I've had enough of this.

"Who the hell are you?" I shout, unable to take it any more. Honestly, I'm not sure why I haven't demanded answers sooner. My head still feels foggy, and I feel like I'm experiencing things out of order or something.

The giant of a man stops his circuit across the living room and turns to me immediately.

"Forgive me, Red," he bows formally at the waist, and it's a little surreal. "Griffin Campbell, at your service."

I scoff and tuck my feet up underneath me. "I've asked you half a dozen times to stop calling me that, Griff, and if you're really at my service, then I want to leave."

He shakes his head and though I can't see his eyes behind those mirrored lenses, I can somehow sense that he is sorry for what he's about to say. "Aurelia, my apologies, but you are not free to go. There are things happening of which you are unaware, and it would be too dangerous to let you out of my sight at the moment."

My first instinct is to lash out at him for keeping me here, but I swallow that down and parse through his words, as well as the things he hasn't said. "Then please answer my questions, at least," I ask slowly. "Who are you, really, and what was your association with Jericho?"

I moved in with Jericho when I was six, and if Griffin Campbell had come anywhere within a mile of the old estate in the last thirteen years, I'd have known about it. I always knew when there were visitors, because I was locked away and forbidden to see them every time, and I definitely would have remembered someone so...statuesque...coming by.