“Any messages?” asks Ned anxiously.
I chuckle and shake my head. “The kids are fine, Ned. You said you liked the babysitter after grilling the poor girl for twenty minutes.”
Ned stares at me and bites his bottom lip. I can all but see the gears turning in his head, probably thinking about whether he gave the babysitter enough instructions.
“It’s a very reputable agency,” I remind him.
We both wince as memories of the Grindr incident hit us. Silently, with nothing more than a shared look, we agree to not speak of it, not now, and not ever.
I puff out a tiny huff of relief. It is an embarrassing memory, but further proof that we are meant to betogether. The universe was trying to give us a helping hand that night. But we got there in the end.
“The restaurant is this way,” I say. It’s as good a way to backpedal out of an awkward conversation as any.
Ned nods and turns with me. Phew. Crisis averted.
We walk in comfortable silence for a bit. The streets are busy, but not overwhelmingly so. The sound of distant traffic, the occasional snippet of conversation from a passerby, the clinking of glasses from a nearby café.
I’d like to take his hand, but his are shoved deep into his jeans pockets. Holding his hand in the cinema was incredible. He was freezing, though. Does Lupus affect circulation that badly? If not, should I gently encourage Ned to get a checkup? It can’t be healthy to be that cold.
“What did you think of the film?” I ask, because bringing up health concerns is not a date night topic of conversation.
Ned rolls his eyes. “CGI nonsense and no heart. I knew when they brought color out, filmmaking was going to go downhill.”
I laugh, but before I can voice a response, Ned abruptly shoves me behind him. It happens so fast I don’t have time to react. One second we’re walking down the street, the next there’s a young man, maybe mid-twenties, scruffy, disheveled, and running up to us, looking wild-eyed and sweaty. He drops to his knees on the sidewalk and stares up at Ned like he’s just seen a god.
I try to move in front of Ned, protective instincts kicking in, but Ned’s hand clamps down on my arm, holding me in place with surprising strength. It’s adorable that he wants to protect me, but let’s be real, he’s five footnothing and as slender as a ballet dancer. I’m the one who should be doing the protecting.
“Master! Feed from me!” says the stranger on his knees, his voice desperate and fervent.
Yep. Just what I thought. Crazy or a junkie. Possibly both. But there’s something off about the way he says it, the way he’s looking at Ned. He’s not just some random guy on a bender. There’s a seriousness in his eyes that makes my skin crawl.
“Where is Baltazar?” hisses Ned at the man, his voice low and dangerous.
Wait? What? Baltazar? Wasn’t that the cult leader that wanted Ned to join him? Shit, I can’t believe I forgot all about that. Poor Ned, he really does have the misfortune to attract crazy people. Well, he has me to protect him now.
“He cast me off for being too clingy!” wails the man. “I won’t be too clingy with you!” he implores with fever-bright eyes and something disturbingly eager in his expression.
Ned looks around nervously. “Come on, let’s take this off the main road.”
I hesitate for a second, glancing between the two of them. But Ned’s already moving, leading the man toward a dimly lit alley, and I follow, my heart racing. This isn’t good. I don’t know what’s going on, but I have a bad feeling about this.
The man shuffles after Ned. Following him to a dimly lit alley. Just like I have. But I don’t fall to my knees again.
“Please!” he sobs.
Ned’s back is to me now, and I can’t see his face. I have no idea what he’s thinking, but I’m presuming he knows this man. He has to, right? I mean, this is all crazy, butif anyone can handle it, it’s Ned. Still, I can’t shake the growing sense of unease crawling up my spine. But I trust that Ned knows his capabilities. I’ll let him take the lead and I’ll only jump in if things get physical.
The man whimpers. “You are so hungry, master. I can feel it. You have left it far too long.”
“No,” whispers Ned, but his voice sounds strained, like he’s holding something back.
Right, that’s enough. I’m dragging Ned out of here. I’m sorry for whatever this guy is going through, I truly am. But Ned is not going to be the one to deal with it.
Something glints in the man’s hand as he brings it up to his throat. I blink, then dark stuff is spurting out of the man’s neck. Spraying out in an arch.
Holy shit! Is that blood? Did this crazy person just cut their own neck open? Does it look black because there is not enough light in the alley to see red? Fuck. This guy is going to bleed to death right in front of us.
My hand scrambles in my pocket for my phone. I really don’t think an ambulance will get here in time, but we have to try.
