“Thank you, Hannah.” Bec pushed past the doors and back into the hallway. He took the spiral staircase 2 steps at a time as he bounded upwards. Finally reaching the guest room hallway, he knocked on Caza’s door.
“Come in!”
He found her sprawled on the bed, gazing upward at the ceiling.
“Isn’t it wonderful?!” she exclaimed, as she sat up.
She had changed shirts into something Hannah had given her, but still wore her own leggings. The shirt seemed a little too big for her, but it didn’t matter.
“This bed is huge! And have you seen the bathroom?!”
He chuckled. For a girl whose family wasn’t well-off, this was natural. “If you’re done admiring the grandeur of this place, want to help me find Layla?”
“Mmm,” she responded, mesmerized by the detail of the ceiling mural. “I don’t know Bec, maybe you should go after your girl, yourself… and anyways, I don’t think I’m ‘done admiring the grandeur’. How can you even ask me that? Like, look at this place!”
“So...that’s a no then?”
“No, I think I’ll chill here. Hannah is kind, but I don’t really feel comfortable messing with the Keeper’s house.”
A shy grin passed his face. “Exactly.”
Caza sat up straighter. “You don’t mean…Bec! He’s hosting you! Respect that!”
“I know, I know,” he ran his hand through his hair. “Just, I’ve never been in this house unless accompanied by Layla. I can remember being left alone only once and that kid Gray was watching me. He and I don’t get along-”
“He was kind to me,” Caza’s tone was final, “Bec, you should not go snooping.”
“Caz! Look around you! This is a keeper’s house we are talking about! And the jewel of a keeper’s house is…?”
“The library,” she breathed. The word felt thick and alien on her tongue. Library. The word itself sounded forbidden.“Ok...but just one look…”
A mischievous grin crossed his face. “Of course.”
---
They reached the top floor of the staircase and looked down the hallway.
“Bec, are you sure this is the-”
“No, this can’t be it.” He popped open a window and leaned out, looking up. The house continued up several floors. “Maybe there’s an elevator?”
“Psh. Not a chance. In this house? No way.”
Bec stood up again and shut the window. “Maybe we should ask Sen or something.”
“Sen! Oh my god, I completely forgot! He … he knows where we are going! He could tell Arthur!”
“I could,” the computer’s friendly voiced confirmed.
“But you won’t, will you?” Bec asked, casually leaning against the wall.
Caza shot him a ‘you’re an idiot face’, but he just shrugged.
The computer seemed to ponder the question for a moment. “Why should I? I have no side and do not concern myself with trivial matters,” the computer’s voice took on an air of boredom.
“So where are we then?” Bec stood up.
“The laboratory hallway. I might warn you that Master Arthur-” the voice went silent.
A door opened and closed at the other end of the hallway, admitting a tall, thin man. He moved toward them confidently and when he grew closer, Caza could make out his face. His sharp blue eyes shone just like Layla’s and his dark brown hair now seemed peppered with gray and silver.
As he arrived in front of them, Caza bowed low. Bec followed her lead, but seemed irked about doing it. He needs a lesson in manners, she vowed.
“Mr. Kane!” she exclaimed.
“Hello, may I ask who you are?” he had a strong, deep voice that Caza could only describe as ancient and powerful. It seemed as if his voice could reveal the knowledge of so many things and she was completely taken aback.
“My name is Caza and this is Bec. I think you two have met?”
She watched the man’s eyes shift from her face to Bec and his scowl deepened. “Ah yes, Mr. Ahearn.”
She saw Bec flinch at the mention of his last name. “Mr. Kane, it is a pleasure. Thank you for hosting us and for attending to Milo.”
“Yes, of course. Is my niece with you?”
Caza responded for Bec, afraid of the tension that was brewing. “No, we were just searching for her.”
Arthur scrutinized her and she was sure he knew they were lying, but he just said, “I see. You will not find her here. Come, let’s go down.” He ushered them both forward, back down the staircase from which they came.
---
Bec found himself in his room before he knew it. Swept up in the moment, he had forgotten to change out of the bloodstained shirt. He opened the cupboard to reveal some of his own shirts that he had left here as emergency clothes whenever he stayed over. They will have to do for now. He wondered what would happen next; would they go home the next day? Or stay here? Obviously Milo wouldn't be going anywhere soon, and they’d have to alert his parents. Not that Milo’s father would care, but his mother would be beside herself. Bec sighed. The dirty jobs fall to me.
He picked up his ledger, tracing the edge of it, and allowing the deep indigo colored glow to shine through. He typed out a brief message telling Mrs. Ravier that her son was safe and that he’d call her the following morning.
Pulling off the bloodstained shirt, Bec inspected his arms and torso for any bruises. He silently cursed his brown skin; it made it difficult for him to find any. They’ll hurt by tomorrow. He grabbed a fresh shirt and made his way to the bathroom. He ran his hand through his long black hair, trying to make it look tidier, but failed, then splashed some water on his face and toweled dry. The towel caught on the tiny gold hoop in his left ear and he cursed quietly as he worked the towel free.
Finally content with his outward appearance, he turned his attention to his injuries. He didn't want to make a big deal of them to the others, and with his dark skin they hadn't noticed. All the better for it. He carefully inspected his hands. What they must have assumed was Milo's blood from when he had helped him onto the cruiser, was actually his own. His knuckles had been torn and bloody from the fight, but now, for the most part, the blood had clotted and dried up on his hands. He carefully used a towel to clean them up. Bec hissed quietly as he soaped his hands. Fresh blood dripped from them and he carefully wrapped both with cloth and tied them tight.
Next, he turned his attention to the cuts and nicks from where he had occasionally gotten nicked by an opponent's weapon. He was fast in a fight, and this time, they only ever nicked him. The worst one was on his forehead, up by his hairline. Thankfully, his somewhat long, black hair had covered the cut as well as the blood. The other nicks were not so bad, and fell on his back and arms. He soaped them and wiped them clean, but refrained from bandaging anything.
Bec’s room was in the guest hallway as well, since Arthur pretty much hated him. He was here often enough, but Arthur refused to allow him easy entry like Layla nor did he permit him a bedroom upstairs. This suited Bec just fine though; he had easier access to the rest of the house.
After he had finished dressing his hands, he climbed onto the bed and pulled the ledger closer to him. He began to read reports, but before long he nodded off to sleep.
YOU ARE READING
Our Price: Of Shifters and Rebels
Teen Fiction"Pathetic," Leo muttered. Bec saw Layla's hands clench and unclench as she struggled to contain her anger. She's going to lose it. He knew her, after all these years. "You all-" Leo began, but he never finished the sentence. Layla spun around, her a...
