Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Glistening raindrops spatter against the window, beading the view. I trace them with my finger.
“Where do you go?”
I turn my head and look at Sam blankly. She frowns and then pokes me. “Where do you go? As you haven’t come back yet. I need you to come back. Bob needs you to come back.”
Well, if my horse needs me…
“Also, Emma? Stop stroking the hellhound, yeah? It’s fucking weird. You realise there’s some big, handsome, sexy, muscly man underneath all that fur…Oh?” Sam wiggles her eyebrows and gives Riddick and me a lecherous wink. “Never mind, carry on. You keep stroking, girl.”
She bounces away, leaving a trail of white shavings like wooden snowflakes behind her. They must have fallen down her boots when she was mucking out and stuck to her fluffy socks.
I quickly snatch my rogue hand away and I blink at the massive hellhound that is leaning against my leg.
“I apologise, Riddick. I didn’t mean to treat you with any disrespect.
” My voice is rough from disuse. I twist my hands in my lap and give him what I hope he interprets as a contrite look.
He blinks back at me. His head bumps my elbow, and when my arm flops towards him, his cold nose butts at my hand.
Huh, okay then. I put my hand back onto Riddick’s head and continue running my fingers through his soft fur.
Since the move to the new house, I’ve been stuck in my head.
John has employed my vampire friend Sam to help me with the horses.
The cost of a full-time groom must be excessive, especially with only Bob and the new pony, Munchkin.
Sam is used to managing a team of grooms and a yard of over forty horses.
I bet she’s so bored…but I don’t know because I haven’t asked her.
I sigh and rub my face. I’ve been a terrible friend.
I need to snap myself out of this unhelpful mental darkness.
I am grateful for Sam’s help. I can’t do much with the hindrance of Bert, and most days I am exhausted.
The tiredness hits me at odd times, and so quickly.
One second I feel as if I can do everything and the next second, bam, my energy has gone, vamoose; it’s vanished like I’ve hit a brick wall, and there is no way around it. It is so frustrating.
Hopefully I don’t have long to wait until my reversal operation with Mr Hanlon. Once everything is back in place, perhaps this horrible tiredness will end.
I shake my head. Some powerful creature I’ve turned out to be. Every time my mind drifts, I am back in the library doing nothing while the hellhound kills Arlo. I feel ashamed.
I could have fought, tried harder, I could have done more. I hate myself for my non-action, and I hate myself for thinking that the world is a better, safer place without Arlo. It might be true, but who am I to decide that?
Now in my nightmares, Arlo watches on as I relive my time over and over again with John in that basement. He pouts and his black demon eyes glare at me when he tells me, “You didn’t help me. Why should I help you?”
“Sam’s right. I need to spend some time with Bob,” I say. I scratch behind Riddick’s ear and like a giant dog, his back leg goes. I huff out a laugh. I know he is doing it on purpose to make me smile. “You are one strange shifter.”
I groan as I reluctantly get to my feet. I wobble as it takes a second to get my balance. I leave the room and Riddick pads behind me. He patiently waits as I stuff my feet into my boots.
Then we both go outside. Riddick is like my faithful shadow. I don’t know when he sleeps, as he always seems to be awake and one step behind me, watching me, watching out for danger. His green eyes are always watching. Instead of it being creepy, he makes me feel safe.
My shadow keeps me safe.
The house. Dear John, of course, came to the rescue.
My guards moved me and Bob into a pretty five-bedroom house with good equestrian facilities.
The sprawling, modern home is on a quiet cul-de-sac.
It looks like a doll’s house from the front, with white render and a bright red door smack-bang in the middle with windows spaced equally on either side.
It’s pretty. I believe, from half listening to Sam’s gossip, the house used to belong to a professional footballer.
John’s continued help is bizarre. I don’t know why I am here.
It’s disconcerting to sleep under his roof and eat his food.
I’m forced again to allow my enemy to take care of me.
It feels wrong. The last thing I want from the hellhound is any kind of care.
I can’t get my head around why he feels the need to help me.
He did what he needed to do. He got his revenge by killing Arlo.
Surely my usefulness is at an end? Yet, here I am.
I now feel like the guards are here to keep me from leaving.
Ha, they’re not here to keep me safe, that’s for sure.
I shake my head. I’m so na?ve. They’ve always been a method to control me…I just didn’t realise it until it was too late. Arlo didn’t realise it either. I shuffle my feet a bit with that thought.
I haven’t even been able to look at Eleanor.
She makes me sick. She’s nothing like the warrior elves in the stories—they protect the innocent and fight for justice.
No, she’s a hired mercenary, a hired thug.
At the snap of the hellhound’s fingers, she wouldn’t think twice about taking me out.
Killing me. In her eyes, I’m filth. Demon-loving filth.
Listen to me. I annoy myself as I’m a hypocrite.
I’m quite happy to hate Eleanor but I stroke Riddick.
Perhaps it’s because Riddick wasn’t around when things kicked off at the estate?
I’ve noticed he’s never about when John is.
I’ve never seen them in the same room. John has probably got something on Riddick—perhaps that is the reason he is being forced to stay in his wolf form.
I flick my eyes to regard him with concern.
It must be uncomfortable to stay in animal form for so long.
I grind my teeth. I wouldn’t put it past John to do something so barbaric.
I wander aimlessly around the small, brick, L-shaped stable yard. It has four large stables, With one room for tack and feed. I trace my fingertips across the wooden doors. The stables are immaculate—Sam has already done everything.
A raindrop lands on my cheek. I didn’t think to put a coat on and it’s still raining. But I don’t mind the rain and the nip of the wind on my face reminds me I’m still here, that I am still alive.
Bob and Munchkin are out in the field. Bob saunters over to me when I approach the fence. He checks to see if I have anything for him to eat. When I produce nothing tasty, and his snuffling inspection of my hands and pockets leads to no result, he turns away in disgust and wanders off.
As he snatches at the grass, he gives me a side-eye. “Human, visit only if you offer sustenance,” his angry chomping seems to imply.
Munchkin, the cheeky black Shetland, stuffs his entire head through the fencing and attempts to bite me.
I step away from his teeth, and when Riddick growls at him, Munchkin pulls his head free, rears up, and waggles his little hooves at us.
He then turns and kicks out with both hind legs and runs away with a squeal.
“Little horror.” I can’t help my laugh; he makes me smile. Sam has him in a tiny lightweight rug and he looks adorable.
“So you’ve finished moping over the demon,” Sam says, wiping her hands on her pant legs as she walks towards us.
Riddick pads away, to a dry spot underneath the overhang of the stables. He is giving us some semblance of privacy to talk. He settles down, head on his dinner-plate-sized paws. I see a flash of tongue and his bright white teeth as he yawns, and then he closes his eyes.
The fine mist from the rain settles on my skin, and a piece of damp hair sticks to my cheek.
I scrape at the wood of the fence with my nail.
“I wasn’t moping, Sam.” I grumble, “The hellhound pulled Arlo’s head off in front of me.
It was…it was bloody grim.” I swallow and rub my chest with my knuckles.
“I can’t sleep without it replaying behind my eyes over and over again. All that blood…” I shiver.
“Yeah, I can understand. That green shit gets everywhere.” Sam shudders and wrinkles her nose. “You can’t even call that stuff blood; it looks and smells bloody awful.”
I roll my eyes toward the sky. Not quite the point I was trying to make. Gah, vampires.
“You’re better off without him, though…you know that, don’t you? He was an evil twat.” Sam digs me in the side with her elbow to make her point.
I give her an incredulous look. “Yes, I know he was a bad guy. I’m not used to that level of violence.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen. Sam, I’m so scared.”
“Hey, we are living in a delightful house and you’ve got your Bob. Just take each day as it comes, Em.” She shrugs. “That’s all you can do. If the hellhound kicks you out, I’ve got a place for you. So keep your chin up, kid. It could be worse.”
I lean against the fence, my chin on my arms. “Yes, it could be worse,” I whisper back.