Across Acheron

Session 14

Cillian came into my room like roaring thunder.

His strides were heavy and forced as he moved to my side of the bed, his bare feet pounding on the hardwood floor like a titan. His body needed more sleep, but his mind was looking for trouble and a way to end it.

I was trouble.

Usually, Cillian would have time to contain his anger and speak to me first. He liked scaring his prey before attacking it, but he was different that time. His patience had run out like an hour glass and all that was left in him was hot fury slowly burning through his veins.

He had the gun to my head in less than a second. He didn’t even have to say anything for me to understand him. I knew he had seen—or at least had an idea—of what Keenan and I had done and had about enough of it. My blood would be the proof of our mistake.

“Not on the bed, Cillian,” Keenan said as if nothing was wrong. He had moved away from me and crossed his arms, staring at anything but my eyes.

“I told you three times, kingling,” Cillian spat, keeping his eyes trained on me. “I told you not to do it with my brother. I ordered you not to do anything and to leave him alone, didn’t I?”

I heard Keenan scoff beside me. “Nobody orders me around. Just because I’m working for you doesn’t mean I play by your rules. I do what I want.”

Cillian didn’t say anything else and dragged me out of the bed by the back of my neck, keeping the gun right against my temple. The whole thing felt like the calm before a storm, and I knew a big one was coming. I felt it behind the remaining warmth of Keenan’s touch, lingering around like an unwanted guest. I didn’t try fighting it. There wasn’t a point to kicking or screaming anymore, so all I could do was keep the tears at bay until my eyes turned red.

Cillian led me down the stairs and to the hidden basement, Keenan following close behind us. He had brought the bookcase down, the books it once held sprawled all across the floor like a jigsaw puzzle. The door was wide open with the key lying beside it.

She could’ve been dead for all I knew. I had promised to save her, but instead I led her straight into the fire. I thought about asking Cillian about it, but the thought of knowing the truth sent my mouth drier than the dirt on our porch.

I kept real quiet as we went down the old wooden steps. Keenan’s past kisses kept most of the fear at bay, but now that I was growing aware of the distance between us, I could feel it rolling in slowly like thunder. My hands started clamming up little by little, my footsteps sloppy as my mind flashed with different scenarios of what could happen; the different ways of how this show would end.

For some reason, I wasn’t fond of happy endings.

Cillian threw me to the ground as soon as we got to the clearing. The woman was still alive but scarcely breathing. It’s still something, I thought, hope bursting at the seams as I stared into her wide, dark eyes.

“Jack,” she whispered, her voice husky. “I thought you were dead—”

“Seems like you’re already acquainted,” Cillian cut in, holding the gun down straight to my head. “I figured. Now that you guys already broke the ice, why don’t we skip ahead to the real action?”

Keenan went rigid against the wall he was leaning on, but he didn’t say anything else. He still refused to look at me and continued to stand like he was trapped in a painting, staring out at nothing. I tried not to let the thought of him giving up on me hurt, but it managed to do what it had to right in my heart, grinding it raw until I couldn’t feel it anymore.