Stay With Me...

Chapter 11- What I'd do for you

The next morning, Emmaline awoke to the smell of pancakes and a slight headache. Annoyed and hungry, she got out of bed, slipped on her silk robe, brushed her teeth and went out to the kitchen.

***

Standing at the stove in a pair of blue sleep pants and a white t-shirt, was John, "So he cooks" she laughed, getting his attention.

"He does." He turned, chuckling, "What time did you get in last night?" He asked pretending not to know.

She shrugged, pouring herself a cup of coffee, from here he was, he could she a spot of purple discoloration on her neck, a hickey. It was like Marcel was taunting him. "I donno. Late. I don't really remember." She took a swing of her coffee. "Did you go out....or... Not like you need to tell me, it's just that I didn't see you when I left or got back." She held her breath for an answer.

"Nope. I was here. All night." He shifted his attention back to the frying pan. "Did you get...whatever it is we need?"

Praising the heavens for the change of topic. "I did. And apparently what we need is co-ordinates for this secret place. Marcel said that it'll lead us to the head of the High Table."

Of course, Marcel knows, John wanted to roll his eyes at her mention of his name, "And you believe him?" He asked, his tone more accusing that it should have been.

"Well duh!" Got a bottle of maple syrup and a bowl of berries out of the fridge. "Why would he lie about that?" The question was clearly rhetorical as Emmaline did not give him a chance to respond, "Oh, when we're done here, I need to take you somewhere."

"Where?" He questioned.

"Well you can't have that much clothes. And I doubt you want to wear more of Jeremy's old stuff." She commented matter-of-factly. "Also, I need a new wig and I'm itching to buy another leather jacket."

"Okay. Well let's finish up here." He plated her a few pancakes and they ate in silence, parting ways to get ready.

***

Their first stop was a women's store devoted to hair and all things surrounding it. Currently, Emmaline was standing in front of a floor to ceiling display of wigs. Her eyes shifting between two blonde ones, the first similar to the one that was ruined, and the other was shorter with bangs. "I thought you said you had others?"

"I do. But not a blonde one." She explained, unmoving from her spot. "I think I'm going to get the shorter one. A new look."

"Why do you need the wigs anyway?" He questioned. It was hard to see the point of them if the people that saw her on the job were going to end up dead in the end.

"Because." She started, picking out the shorter one in the end, "I really like this one. They're great for my look? And they help hide my identity when I have to do public kills. And I like them." She paid for the wig and collected it. Then took him to another store where she immediately whispered to the clerk at the register and slipped him two gold coins. Finally, something in his territory.

The clerk took them though a dressing room that opened up to an entirely different store. This was one selling different types of bulletproof clothing and weapons. "Is the tailor in?" Emmaline asked the boy who nodded and then went to find him.

John had already moved away to look at display of guns of different sizes. A while later, Emmaline appeared next to him, immediately reaching for a matte black gun with silver details, a Ruger 10/22 Rifle. It wasn't that big, but her small hands made it seem larger than it was. She put the strap over her and then took a few steps back, aiming it at him. It was not loaded, so he did not flinch when she pointed the barrel at his chest. "What, I'm not scary anymore?" She lowered it a little, pretending to frown.