That was it. Holy shit. I needed to meet the other side. I couldn't make an informed decision until I had all the information. Only then would I know for certain what side Ishould choose. It wasn't really about right or wrong as much as what I thought was right and wrong. It's all perception, isn't it? Silas thought he was doing the right thing. But did the hellhounds believe the same? Were they just slaves following the Devil's orders? More importantly, how the fuck was I going to meet one?
What's that saying? Ask and ye shall receive.
Chapter Eight
The next day, I went shopping. Alone. It still surprised me when no one tried to stop me from leaving. Especially after that induction ceremony. How could Silas let me leave after witnessing that? But then again, it wasn't as if he'd have to answer to the authorities. And I'm not even referring to his God-claim. I'm talking about the fact that all the people he murdered were alive and well. There was nothing I could report. I guess I could tell the police that they were a bizarre cult that drowned their new recruits and resuscitated them, but it would be my word against theirs. And I wasn't even sure if consensual drowning and resuscitation were a crime. I suppose it could be considered reckless endangerment.
I pondered all of this while I bought a few essentials at a shopping center in downtown Helena. Although the clothing that had been selected for me (by Silas himself, no less) was fine, I needed more, so I wouldn't have to do laundry every few days. I also wanted things I had picked out. Putting on underwear that “God” had chosen for me gave me the yucks.
After I made my purchases, I should have headed back, but my feet got a mind of their own, and I found myself wandering around the shopping center. It was an outdoor situation with shops, restaurants, and other businesses lining the street. There was an area for entertainment and even acarousel. I stopped to watch the carousel spin in its carousel-shaped building made mostly of glass.
That's when he bumped into me.
My packages went flying with the force of the blow. And yes, it felt like a blow. The guy was big enough to knock me off my feet with a casual nudge, but he'd been walking at a fast clip that had added some oomph to his hit. Luckily, he also had fast reflexes, and he caught me before I fell.
Gasping, I looked up into a pair of the most stunning eyes I'd ever seen. Hunter green with glittering striations of ivy and peridot. No, I don't talk like that. Who talks like that? No one. It was those eyes. They made me a poet. Or an artist. All I could think about was how impossible they were. Nature couldn't have come up with that. So dark and yet so vibrant. The rich hues enhanced the paler tones that wavered through his irises like a watercolor painting.
Then my vision panned back to take in the rest of his face. Cheeks tapered in like a wolf's, with a long nose between them, leading my stare down to a pair of pouting lips that seemed out of place. And yet, it all worked. Too well.
“I'm so sorry,” he said. “Are you all right?”
I cleared my throat and stepped back. “Yes, thank you. I, uh, I'm fine.” I bent to retrieve my packages.
He crouched with me, his thighs stretching a pair of worn jeans. I glanced at him. The jeans notwithstanding, he was dressed pretty upscale for Montana, with an expensive leather jacket on over a collared shirt. I reached for one of my bags with a shaking hand.
“You're trembling,” he said, taking my hand. He helped me up and over to a bench. “Sit here. I'll fetch your things.”
I watched him gather my bags and come back to me.
“There's a restaurant right there.” He motioned, but I couldn't look away from his face. “Please, let me buy you some coffee. Maybe dessert? Sugar helps shock.” He grinned. “They make an amazing bread pudding.”
“Bread pudding is my favorite,” I blurted without thinking.
“Mine too!” He held out his hand. “I'm Garret. Garret Demos.”
I took his hand. “I'm Indigo Darling.”
Garrett's brows lifted. “Like inPeter Pan? Wendy Darling?”
“Yes.” I started to draw my hand away, but he used it to pull me to my feet. Startled, I looked up at him again.
“I love that,” Garret said. “Come on, let's get inside. It's cold out here.”
In a daze, I let him lead me into the restaurant, still carrying my bags. All in one hand. Inside, we were welcomed and seated immediately. The staff obviously knew him—the server arriving with a cup of coffee along with the menus. She asked me what I'd like to drink, and I ordered a hot chocolate.
“Such a lovely name,” Garret said. “Indigo Darling.”
“It was given to me by the nurse on duty,” I murmured, enthralled by his eyes again.
Garret frowned. “The nurse? Not your parents?”
“I don't know who my parents are. I was left in a hospital emergency room. Wrapped in a blanket and set on one of the chairs. Not even a note.”
“Holy shit!” He gaped at me, then hurried to say, “Sorry about the cursing. You surprised me.” He paused, then said, “So, the nurse named you. Is that normal?”
It wasn't the first time someone had asked about my name, but it was the first time it had been done in such a gentle, genuine way. His accent was slight but rhythmic. Strong but soothing. It lulled me into calm and made me want to tell him everything.
“No, I don't think so,” I said. “She must have insisted or something. Indigo for my eyes and Darling because she lovedPeter Pan.”
