Misinformed: Chapter Two

The sun was slow to rise when Silas got home. He opened his closet and unlocked the safe inside, his canvas bag going on the top shelf, the leather holster the second shelf, the spare set of keys in the extra drawer. He locked it back and returned to his kitchen where he prepared his coffee. Dumping grounds and water inside and plugging it in for his return so all he had to do was switch it on.

He stripped down and pulling on the shabby gray sweats he wore whenever he wasn’t working. Long nights like this always set Silas on edge. Even if he was approaching the twenty-four-hour mark he couldn’t sleep. He knew he couldn’t do anything at all except wear himself out. Run to the gym, work out, run back from the gym and hope to the gods he would be able to find rest afterward.

As soon as he walked outside, he saw a car park at the upstairs apartment. The car looked nice, well taken care of, expensive. He pulled his hood over his face and waited to hear them go inside before he ran up the hill and away. He knew someone was moving in. Beauchamp told him a girl he was close with would be renting out the upstairs. The last time someone rented the above apartment they turned out to be a prostitute who hired Beauchamp to protect them.

How much did this girl pay Beauchamp? He thought, now hearing voices from the cottage. A woman and a man arguing it sounded like.

Was Beauchamp sleeping with this one? Not to stereotype, but Beauchamp was a satyr after all, a creature known for its sexual appetites. Silas had known Beauchamp to have many lovers during the time they had worked together. 

Beauchamp wasn’t the sort of man Silas would normally want to associate with. Yet when he was at his lowest it was Beauchamp who was the only one who saw the potential in him. He didn’t want to say he owed Beauchamp anything because he didn’t. What Beauchamp offered was never free, there was always a catch to assure the bastard came out on top of the heap.

He wondered about the girl and what Beauchamp did to put himself above her. She already had a guy with her, moving her in at the ass crack of dawn. No one was ever eager to move somewhere, let alone early enough the rooster hadn't crowed.

The gym was quiet, save for the regulars like Silas who had nothing better to do with their mornings than work on their bodies and trade secrets about the latest protein powders. It was a crowd he'd grown used to and better yet a crowd used to him. He didn’t worry too much about tying his hair back and letting the scars show. No one there stared much anymore.

He became a regular fixture of the early mornings since he moved to Winter Falls. Regulars in the gym stopped to say hello every now and again. It never happened to him back home, no one stopped to say hello to an Orc.

Walking out of the gym the sun rose and the mist on the ground had a rosy haze to it. The clouds behind him were pink next to the orange of the sun. It made him think of something he once heard one of the old nurses say back home.

“Pink at morn, sailors be warned.”

“If I was a sailor I’d heed you,” Silas growled, snapping his hood up around his head and jogging back towards home.

There wasn't a car in the driveway anymore, and the lights were on upstairs. Perhaps he missed the show, which he was thankful for. Silas unlocked the door, stepping inside. He smelled something unfamiliar as the door opened wafting air into his face. It smelled sweet and soft, warming something cold inside him.

A warm wet tongue was at his cheek along with thick, heavy paws at his chest.

“What the fuck?” He gasped as the dog schmoozed to him. He pets the thing regardless, he had always been fond of dogs. This one was as lovely as they came. A wolf dog from the looks of things. Too big to be a husky.

“I’m sorry!” A voice squeaks in fear.

Silas glanced up, seeing her. The new neighbor.

She was tall, pretty enough in shape alone, her long legs shapely and pale. Her long auburn hair catching the sunlight and glowing brightly like an ember. No wonder Beauchamp liked her. One sad glance of her big blue eyes and any man would be turned into putty.

“She doesn’t look like the last girl,” Silas thought to himself as the dog continued to lick at his hands. “She looks right proper. Maybe she’s Beauchamp’s girl,” he thought as he eased the dog back to all fours. He rubbed her ears and scratched under her chin. She was well taken care of, bathed and manicured and decorated with a sparkling collar.

After enough loving, the dog trotted to her master then scampered back up the stairs. The look on the girl’s face told him the whole story. The dog had snuck down, and she came after it to keep it from running where it wasn’t wanted.

“You must be the new tenant,” Silas growled as he went into the kitchen.

“Yes,” she sounded like a vein was about to pop. “I’m sorry,” she swallowed, becoming breathless. “I have a gate to put up, so she won’t come down again.”

Silas didn’t mind the damn animal. He didn’t have anything a dog biting or pissing on would ruin any further. He turned on his coffee pot, the only thing he cared about at the moment.

“Uhm,” she was starting to sound less like a terrified goat.

Silas glanced over his shoulder at her. Stealing another selfish glance at her legs. She was wearing those tiny shorts which were popular. On her, he could see the appeal.

“If you ever need anything just let me know.” Was she still talking? “Since we’ll be neighbors.”

He went to the fridge, hoping if he didn’t respond to her maybe she would leave. She didn’t need to make friends to be his neighbor.

“Uhm, I know sometimes upstairs neighbors can be noisy. If there is anything to discuss, I don’t want to ruffle any feathers.” She was rambling, obviously very nervous. Perhaps she was hiding something for Beauchamp. 

“A pretty thing like her could pass as a mule,” Silas thought to himself as he glance at the coffee pot, waiting on it to fill. “I certainly wouldn’t think twice looking at her. A face like that could carry as many drugs as it wanted and even the drug hounds would let her off.”

Silas rolled his eyes, shutting the refrigerator. “No feathers to ruffle.” 

He didn’t think they would ever be in the cottage at the same time anyways. The way his hours worked out lately, if she was out during the day he would be left in peace. Well, if she was a mule she could have odd hours too.

The girl smiles sheepishly. “Once my things get here I’ll set up the gate to make sure Persephone doesn’t bother you.”

Silas chuckled, more of a grunt than a laugh. Persephone! What a silly name for a dog so big. He grabbed the coffee pot and poured into his mug.

“I’ll leave you be then.” The girl said. Silas looked up, seeing her trajectory was leading her for a crash course with his table’s corner.

Her stomach plowed right into it, “oof!” she huffed. Grabbing herself around the stomach she tried to regain herself. “Excuse me!” She made a mad dash for the stairs, tripping up as she did.

Taking his first sip of coffee Silas was smirking. Well, she wasn’t the kind of girl he expected he thought, laying himself out on the old sofa. His steaming cup of coffee sitting on the corner. He could drink a whole pot and fall asleep with no fight. He felt exhausted, yet his body wouldn’t allow him to sleep. Resting on the sofa felt like a death sentence rather than a reprieve.

He heard her moving about upstairs. Her footsteps thud, thud, thudding back and forth. The soft swish of a broom. He listened, imagining her darting back and forth with Persephone following her every move. He felt himself sinking into the sofa then, his eyes shutting as the sensation of rest came to him.

As he felt himself slip away he felt a familiar pain again. Heat and sting.

Silas sat up throwing his coffee mug down. Searing hot coffee spilled down his chest. He cursed and stormed away from the sofa. He stomped outside to the shed where his washing machine and dryer were. He tossed the soaking hoodie inside, replacing it with a fresh one left in the dryer. He huffed. His chest scalded a bit, it was nothing compared to what he'd grown used to.

Instead of resting, Silas picked up his toolbox on the shelf as well as oil and chrome polish. He wasn’t sleeping anymore. He gave up on the whole thing. He’d put his head into working on the one little extravagance in his life, his motorcycle.

He sat down beside it, rubbing in the polish and making the pipes and spokes shine. It was a ritual for him. Something he started doing by the suggestion of his therapist. “It’ll be like your zen garden. You hate those, maybe you’ll enjoy this more,” she said.

Above him, the front door opened and the girl came out. She was sneezing her head off and complaining to the dog. Looking up, he could see her, the dog but he couldn’t see the master.

He finished up polishing and stood up as a big moving van came pulling up and he watched as the master walked out and greeted them, pointing them where to go and where to set things. She had a rather formal way of speaking. Her voice sounded trained like she'd been schooled how to sound from birth. When she stood in his home, even while nervous, she sounded like she was a hostess at a fancy restaurant.

She would call me sir, Silas thought dismissively. 

The sun was getting high, and he was beginning to sweat under his hoodie. He stripped it off, tossing it through the open kitchen window. He huffed, fanning his shirt open and closed to create a breeze. Dry up the sweat.

When he wasn’t sleeping like this, Silas tended to go into detail with his work. He removed the rims to get in at the dirt and grime which built up. He needed to test the tires and check to see if they needed air. He got lost in his work again.

It was an embarrassingly long time before he realized there was a dog was by his side. Silas flinched when he saw Persephone settling down on the sun-baked concrete. She sighed tranquility and wagged her tail, dusting the ground. He scoffed, standing up to rinse off his wrench in the sink under the open window.

“Uhm-” the master coughed out, appearing before him as well. She then went silent, even after her abrupt appearance.

Silas grimaced and averted his gaze from her. She was too lovely a creature for his gaze. At least, that’s what he felt. “What is it, girl?”

“I…” for a moment, he thought she was going to start crying. “If I order food and feed you, will you help me put my bed together?” She said with the stern voice of an overstressed teacher.

That was a surprise. She had more guts than he gave her credit for. Even after embarrassing herself earlier, she came down to offer food in exchange for his services. Silas smirked, clearing it quickly from his face as he turned around to look at her from the corner of his eye.

Silas waved his wrench at her. “You don’t have a boyfriend who could-”

The look that instantly appeared on her face made Silas understand he had struck the wrong raw nerve. With her red hair, she looked ready to set a blaze and that turned his stomach. 

“No!” She blurted out angrily, even stomping her foot. Her cheeks flushed red, eyes sparkling with frustrated tears and burning holes into his skin.

“The master is showing her fangs,” Silas thought to himself admiringly. 

The master shook her head. “And I called my brothers too!”

“A girl who stood in shadows,” Silas added to himself.

“No one can help me today! And the movers were assholes who laughed at me!” She clenched and unclenched her pretty little hands.“I’m moving out on my first time! If all you’re gonna do is smart off to me then I’ll sleep on the floor!” She stomped her foot down, making him think she was trying to kick up dirt.

Silas couldn’t stop the laugh building up. It was as surprising to him as it seemed it was to her. He wiped the sweat from his face and turned to her, facing her.

Her lip trembled, throat shuddered and the red drained from her face leaving only snow. He met her blue eyes, yet she didn’t meet his back. She became trapped in the moment. He knew what was coming. This always happened when he met people. They would stare, eyes lingering on the scars, his useless eye. Pity would come because of guilt.

“For food, why not?” He pulled his shirt up and mopped the sweat from his brow. “Don’t go plowing your leg into the ground on my account.”

She looked at him,meeting his eyes for a moment. “Pizza or Chinese?” Her hand rested on her hip, to keep from shaking.

“You pick,” he sat back down behind the motorcycle. “I’ll finish this and I’ll be up.” He wiped his hands on his pants and slid the rim back into place.

“Thank you,” she sighed, her shoulders lifting. “I’m uhm...my name is Sophie, by the way.”

The master has a name, he thought. She was human and real after all.

“Silas,” he threw back.

“Silas,” his name left her lips and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and pull.

She then knelt and whistled to the dog who ignored her. “Persephone, here,” she snapped her fingers.

“I’ll bring her up,” he rubbed the warm soft belly exposed before him. “You can leave her with me.”

The master stood. “You sure?”

Silas nodded, returning to something on his motorcycle.

She screwed her mouth shut, she sighed and pointed at Persephone, a threat perhaps. “You behave, alright? You’ve already embarrassed me enough for today!” She turned away, once he was sure she wasn’t looking he knelt down, rubbing Persephone’s belly more and letting her jump on him.

“Do you keep master on her toes?” He murmured to Persephone. “Feel free to bother me as much as you like.” He went inside, Persephone following after him. He took cold cuts and cheese from his fridge and gave them to her as she pranced and twirled around his small kitchen.

A long time ago he used to keep his company full of dogs. A job he had enjoyed and had healed him greatly. He missed those days, walking into the lot to be greeted by souls that wanted to see him more than any steak in the world. Creatures wounded like him and begging for a place to exist with love.

If the master turned out to be a horrible upstairs neighbor, he could at least forgive her for being a good dog owner.

He went back out as Persephone left his side when she ate all the treats. He fetched the toolbox then hesitated at the kitchen. He pulled out a six pack. The master looked like she needed something to drink.

She moved away, on her own, for the first time and had the misfortune of renting from Henry Beauchamp. She mentioned brothers, perhaps she was escaping something as well. Silas ran from a brother, from a family he wanted to forget as hard as he tried. There were memories that wouldn’t die. Memories which wouldn’t go up in flames like everything else.

Silas trudged up the stairs, hesitating at the top, hearing the master murmur and coo to Persephone. Singing when she thought there was no one else to hear. Her voice was soft and clear. He felt the sinking sensation again. His body relaxing and giving way like before he found sleep.

“Silas?” The hair on the back of his neck stood again. Prickling and tickling at the sound of his name escaping her lips.

He made a beeline for the kitchen, setting down the tools and placing the beers in the fridge. He took out two, one for each. She came up beside him as he popped the top on one for her. She was holding her phone, tapping away at it.

“I’ll order food now I guess,” she looked up at him, surprised by the offering. “For me?” Her fingers touched his, her skin cool and smooth like a silk glove. Her lips wrapped around the lip, soft and red.

That’s when Silas saw it, her hair was tucked behind her ear and the tip of it was severely pointed. She was an elf, or perhaps part elf. 

Silas took the toolbox, turning away from her and heading for the back room.

“The bed is back through here,” the master chased after him, keeping close.

The room was already jam packed. There was a dresser littered with lipsticks and bottles and brushes. The closet was lousy with clothes and boxes labeled things like shoes and handbags and scarves, all stuffed to burst. Silas didn’t see the sense in all the clutter and crap. Why did a pretty girl like her need so much makeup? Why did she need three dresses in the same color? Why more than one purse?

On the dresser was a lit candle, lemon scented. Silas watched the flame while his stomach turned and he felt the burns of his face ache. He blew it out as soon as he saw it flicker. There were others around the house burning still.

“She had better blow those out too,” he thought.

“You can go about your business.” Silas grunted as he set his toolbox aside. “Tell me where you want it and I’ll get it set up for you.”

“Oh,” she moved around him, close enough he felt her swipe his arm. “I was hoping to watch, or even help.”

Silas stepped away and began unbundling the frame. Laying out the pieces along the floor as she talked. He could do this on his own, it was easy. Trying to teach her along the way was another step he didn’t want to take.

She stopped and he stood up, “need you like I need a headache,” he whispered under his breath. He stood back up and looked down at her. “Where are the feet and screws?”

She leaped into action, grabbing up a shopping bag with all the parts inside. All separated into little sandwich bags.

“That's one step above most first-timers,” Silas grumbled, feeling like she deserved a bone. “Ok now, just...stand somewhere out of the way.”

He began working, screwing on the feet and assigning the screws, setting them into place and aligning slots. It was an old frame, and heavier than he planned. It was beginning to hurt his hands holding the edges.

A shadow hovered over him.

He couldn’t stand her hovering so Silas gave her small orders as she insisted on helping out. Something or another about wanting to be less helpless. Chirp, chirp, chirping away trying to get her point across. She seemed proud at least to see the whole thing put together. An annoyed look crossing her face when someone came and knocked at the door. The food there at last.

“Took it fucking long enough,” he grumbled under his breath as she raced away to the door.

The master ordered pizza, and from a place he didn’t care for. They always served the food way too hot.

“That place is terrible,” he groused despite taking a slice.

Her plump bottom lip jutted out as he walked by her. “Too bad, I already got the work out of you.”

“Oughta go in there and dismantle it all.” He fetched more beer, serving her one.

She thanked him with her eyes, soft blue things they were. For more than just the beer Silas handed her. Her eyes told him more than she ever would with her chirping. “Sorry, the only seat I have right now are blankets.”

He nodded back towards the bedroom. “You got the bed.”

Her cheeks flushed and her eyes avoided him. He always seemed to be catching her half staring. Silas didn’t feel her stares like he did others. They weren’t ones of morbid curiosity that stung him like mad wasps. It was a different sensation that her gaze caused. He wasn’t sure what it was, and he wasn’t too sure how he felt about it.

“Awful forward, sir.” She was breathless, replacing words with beer and cheese in her mouth.

“No sir here.” Silas growled, smirking to himself. 

“I was right,” he thought. He leaned against the counter, looking at her for a moment as her eyes darted around the place.

Supple, pale skin, well taken care of. Her neck was swanlike and rippled as she swallowed. She shuddered and he could see the faint outline of her nipples through her shirt. Elves always had a way of making him feel nervous and uncomfortable. But as Silas watched the master, he felt a different sort of unsettling flow through his body. A creature like her was why his kind would fight wars.

Silas cleared his throat, returning to the food and beer. “Why no furniture?”

She made an irritating little prissy sound of disgust. “It’s all still in storage. Mom has to go through it to pick out things for me.”

“Little baby rich girl?” Silas wondered.

“I only need a sofa and a table set,” the master grumble irritably. “Yet she acts like I’ll be hosting queens or something.” She then glances to Silas with wide, expressive eyes. “Mr. Beauchamp said he would put doors up on the stairs soon. You won’t have to worry about Persephone breaking in.”

Mr. Beauchamp, is what she calls him. Could mean anything. His initial impression of her would be hard to shake. His mistress or his mule, maybe both. That was just the kind of way Beauchamp had, especially with lovers, male of female.

“Not her I was worried about.” He replied after a long gulp of his beer.

Silas could feel her eyes on him then. Looking at his face, at the ugly mask it melted into. He frowned, grabbing up his tools. He took the beer from the fridge. Taking one for himself, leaving the last for her in the empty fridge.

“You should blow out those candles.” He escaped her gaze. “Good night.”

He felt relieved as he escaped those blue eyes. It didn’t bother him much when people stared. He'd grown a thick skin about it. Yet, her eyes pierced through it all. She was just a girl. A girl who owned a dog.

He fell into bed as soon as he got to his apartment. Silas clutched his pillow and taking a deep, steadying breath.

Forty-eight hours. It wasn’t a record or anything, it was something he would try to avoid on a normal basis. He nuzzled into his pillow, hearing her shuffle around upstairs for a moment. He then heard the pipes in the walls shudder and groan. The sloshing, whirring sound of water gushing through the pipes and upstairs.

“That damn tub,” Silas thought to himself. It was the main reason he didn’t take the upstairs apartment. His own had a simple shower stall and it was all her needed. Perhaps the master wanted something a little more romantic.

Candles and claw-foot bathtubs, she seemed like the kind of girl who read copious amounts of romance novels. If she was that type of girl, perhaps it was why she got in with Beauchamp. Dashing older man, kind of attractive, rich, charming, sexually well versed. He was the kind of man to use people for his own gain, men and women of all ages included. Silas scoffed at the thought. He didn’t want to imagine the master in that situation.

As Silas started to drift, he remembered the shape of her nipples under his shirt. He plump bottom lip. How does she taste, the thought drifted in his mind. He groaned, tossing and turning in bed. He heard her frustrated sigh and another dark thought bothered him. Would she moan with you inside her?

Silas sat up with another sudden thought, he forgot to tell her about the washing machine and dryer, he’d have to make a note to pass on the information in case Beauchamp hadn’t. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes grew heavy, his body sinking. The bed becoming quicksand. He sunk deeper, his body becoming numb. His eyes shut, mouth parted. A snore cracking through the silence like thunder.