Fairy Tail

Prologue

Sinbad pushed the door open with one hip, balancing take-out against the other. Keys went in the little bowl on the dresser, shoes kicked off under the coat rack. The apartment was silent, city sounds filtering in from the streets outside.

"Conall!" Sinbad called, carting the take-out into the tiny kitchenette. "I'm feeding you, come on!"

One milkshake in the fridge for later, one for Conall now. He was always hungry; it was like his teenaged metabolism had never matured into normal eating habits. Extra burger and large fries on the counter, regular burger on a plate.

"You'll never guess who I met today," Sinbad went on, getting the ketchup out of the fridge. "Have you ever heard of a tale named Buck?"

Still no reply, and that was strange. Conall had never, not once in his life, refused the offer of food. Usually the mere suggestion of edible materials brought him bouncing into the room. Sinbad frowned and looked around. A few dirty dishes in the sink. One of Conall's socks under one of the chairs. No other sign of life.

"Conall?"

Sinbad went to the bedroom first. The door was ajar, the bed unmade, just as it always was. No Conall. He wasn't in the living room, the bathroom was empty, and that was all there was to their apartment. Sinbad frowned and got the cellphone out. Conall was usually home at this hour, and if he wasn't, he was good about texting. He knew to keep his roomie informed enough that nobody worried over each other.

Dial. Straight to voicemail. Leave a message, send a text message to make sure. Maybe Conall was out with friends. Just because he usually texted before he drank, didn't mean he would always remember to do so. But just in case, Sinbad decided to call him at work, check in to see if he was running late. Dial. Wait. Finally get in touch with the manager, who said Conall hadn't been in today and was he sick?

No need to bring up the fact that this was only Conall's second week at his new job, but gee, the manager managed to do just that. Didn't Conall know how many people were lining up to even interview for a job in this economy?

Sinbad thanked him and hung up. That meant no Conall all day. Where was he?

When Conall hadn't returned home by midnight, and still hadn't picked up the phone, Sinbad decided something was wrong. Conall was never out this late without checking in, and he was very talkative and always answered his phone. Their rent was due in two days and Conall would never leave anyone hanging like that; something had to have happened to him. Sinbad only had enough to cover half their rent and if their landlord came sniffing around, there would be trouble. It would probably be better if they were both gone by then.

That meant a two days' deadline. If Conall wasn't back by morning on the day of their rent, Sinbad would have to vacate the premises. It probably wouldn't hurt to do it very discreetly, either. Sinbad could do discreet; it simply meant filling up a few tote bags with clothes and necessities and taking one along every time one left the building, stashing them in a locker somewhere. Then, if Conall wasn't back, it would be very easy to gather everything up and leave without having to go back to the apartment.