“Stone with a hole through the center, but it has to be worn through naturally.”
We have plenty of them on leather thongs, but there’s nothing natural about them. I’m not even sure they are stone. I shake my head and realize I’m buying into his hallucination that there is something out there that we have to hide from.
“Then you’ll have to trust me.”
“Like hell, mister. I don’t even know you.”
“Fin.” He offers his hand like we are having a sane conversation about the weather. His hand is callused, and his nails are chipped. There’s a suspicious bulge under his jacket, which I’m sure is a weapon. When I don’t walk around the counter and shake his hand, he drops it to his side. “And you are?”
“Megan. Now can I leave? If you don’t let me go, I’ll call the cops.”
I need to call my boss and let her know the day's takings. I have things I need to do, and he is in my way.
Fin looks out the door. “If we wait a few more minutes, they’ll become bored and move on.”
“Who will?” I want to press myself against the glass and peer out, but I don’t want to be any closer to him. I should press emergency on my phone, but I hesitate, not wanting to escalate the situation. What if there is something, or someone, out there?
He licks his lip “The poenpoeths.”
“The what?”
He says the word again like it should mean something. Whatever he’s taken has scrambled his brain. “How about I drive you to hospital and they can give you something. Help you.”
Maybe a sedative until the psychosis wears off. Or perhaps he’s supposed to be on meds, and he stopped taking them.
He glares at me, his green eyes as sharp as any knife. “You know what? I’ve tried to warn you. I’ve done my part.” He grabs the door handle and turns it a little. “Out you go.”
I hesitate, sure it’s a trap. “You’re letting me go?”
“Yep.” He opens the door an inch. All I have to do is come out from behind the counter and run for the opening. Then I’ll call the cops. It seems too good to be true.
The warning bells in my brain echo in my skull.
Every hair on my body is drawn tight.
“Really?” I edge around the counter, keys in one hand, bag in the other, both ready to be used as weapons.
He cracks open the door a little wider. “You want to leave, be my guest. I’m staying here.”
“Why? The money is in the safe. There’s nothing of value.”
“My life is of value if only to me.”
Okay, well when he puts it like that. “What is it that you're so afraid of?”
“The poenpoeth, as I told you.”
“But what is a poenpoeth?” Every step takes me closer to the door. But I'm going to be within arm’s reach of him as I leave. I don't want to be that close. He doesn't seem violent, but that doesn't mean he won't attack me if given a chance. However, I need to escape.
He glances out the glass of the door, then back at me and outside again. Then he shakes his head. “I'm going to open the door and you're going to run and then I'm going to shut it. Okay?”
“Sure.” It's a good of a plan as any. I prepare to run, and I hope my ballet flats stay on my feet. They look great with the fairy costume, but they aren't made for doing much more than walking. I'll call the cops when I reach the end of the mall. There’s a bus stop, so there'll be people there.
“On three,” he says.
He counts down and on three he swings open the door. I run for freedom, expecting him to grab me by the arm or the bag as I go past. But he doesn't touch me, and then I'm free and in the deserted mall. Something furry brushes my leg and I yelp and glance down. There's nothing there.
Of course there's nothing there. NowI'mbeing paranoid.
