Beautiful Disaster

Beauitful Disaster Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The door closes behind me with a soft click as I step into the patio.

Twilight has been hung; its painted veil casts a series of faint stars impelling their beauty against the soft velvety night. Brisk of warm air melts against my skin. An orchestra of nightfall strums its beat with crickets chirping, frogs gurgling, and other familiar sounds bubble in the mist of midnight. Hundreds of trees palpitate while emitting a song intoning the melody of dusk. In the depths of the murk an inhuman cry shivers through the wind carrying it along for all who are near to hear its torment.

I shake it off. A cry I've heard too often.

Soft specks stir up from a low fire beyond illuminating a faint glow of amber, casting the only source of light throughout the octagonal shaped room. White pillars stand at each point holding above them a roof. A chandler full of crystallized shards hangs from a tightly coiled chain absorbing the fire's amber and reflecting it in tiny pieces around the room. Sitting and facing the fire is a couch designed with dark, woven basket frame with orange, yellow, red, and green stripped comforter. Behind it is a wooden counter with a tiny plugged in waterfall resting on top. On each side couch are two matching single seated armchairs. In the middle is a glassed top coffee table with a half-cup full of coffee and news papers stacked aimlessly.

A man sits, leg resting over one knee on the pinned striped couch, gazing into light specks of the fireplace.

For the first time in weeks Dean has not set foot in this patio. Punctilious and guarded in his study he's been mulling and investigating over the deaths that have been overtaking all over the world; specifically in Ireland.

Death: there's been too many.

"Troy," Dean says his voice washes away in the wind. He rests down a newspaper onto the glassed table with the leading title: TWENT- SEVEN DEATHS IN CORK, IRELAND; the second largest city in Ireland. He picks up the mug, leans back, and sips the steaming coffee.

I take a step forward into the blazing amber light with its warmth hitting my face.

He turns, sees me eyeing the paper. "Tonight?"

Rounding one of the pin stripped chairs I ease myself towards the hearth. The crackle and snap-snap of the flames rises with tidbits of smoke. For a long moment I'm silent gazing absentmindedly. We both know exactly where my whereabouts are going to be tonight. Sometimes the he doesn't have to reinstate or confer. I only accommodated Dean with my business in case of a vicissitude. Otherwise, my business is my own business.

But I respond as I always do, firm and solid. "Yes."

"It's dangerous."

I know.

Gazing over my shoulder I look at the man sitting with glasses perched on his nose, white and grey hair is sprouting in various places in his dark brown hair and that hundred-year-old gaze. He knows too much and has burdened himself with many things alike. For that the consequences are laborious and much was sacrificed in the keeping of those secrets.

I know. I've been there.

Even so that doesn't change the fact that tonight I must go. There's been over multitudinous times and each has been more or less dangerous. I'll go. I ensured her a promise that I'll never break. It's been there since the beginning and I've never doubted her. She'll be expecting me and I'll be expecting her to be waiting.

Dean's eyes breaks away knowing what my answer will be. "For how long?" He chokes and quickly places a napkin to his mouth as dribbles of tea run down his chin.