Page 33

Say something! Also, don’t freak the fuck out! You need to hold it together. We can do this, Bren.

“Sorry? Who’s Frank?” I ask innocently as I measure out the beans for the coffee I’m making.

“Oh Brenna, you know who Frank is.” He licks his lips as he stares at the place just over my shoulder.

I crank the dial on the grinder to drown out anything else he may have to say. Which is probably something creepy. I mean, the guy has really nailed the whole creepy vibe. I keep grinding until the beans are almost dust before cranking the dial down. Just as he opens his mouth again I start up the milk frother. The gurgling drowning him out yet again.

“Interesting,” Grammy says from beside me.

I'm dying to ask her what she’s talking about, but, well, if he already thought I was up to something talking to myself before, he’ll be certain of it if I start chatting with another person who isn’t there.

Once the milk is the right temperature I move it to the cup I’ve been preparing for Percy. It’s odd, I know he shows an interest in me, and Frank, and Dima and Kristie and everyone else says he’s here to do me harm, and I know in my gut to be wary, but I can’t help but wonder how he became this way. What happened to him that he lost his soul?

“Do you remember me, Brenna?” he asks, a curious look on his face.

I wave a hand at him before I go back to mixing up my concoction.

Should have put poison in it. That would have solved all our problems.

“Of course I do Per-, ah, yeah, of course.” I paste a smile on my face, but gaze on the art on top of his coffee. “You were here yesterday. And the day before. And on the streetcar. We’ve really been bumping into each other a lot lately,” I say light heartedly.

“And before that?” he probes.

“Now what does he mean by that?” Grammy mutters over my shoulder.

I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.

Me neither, I think to myself in the hopes that Frank heard that. “Before that?” I wrack my brain for any recollection of Percy. I study his features, try to picture a younger, healthier version of him, but I come up short. “No, I’m pretty certain we’ve never met before.”

“Hey, Bren, can I grab another of whatever it was you made me?” Gabe asks, sidling up to the counter.

He leans his weight on it, looming over Percy. The smaller man stares up at him, and instead of looking afraid, he almost looks…pissed.

“Hey, I’m Gabe,” Gabe says, holding his hand out.

Percy stares at Gabe’s proffered hand then back up at him before turning back to me. I slide his coffee, in a to go cup toward him. His hand darts out and instead of snatching up his cup like I expect, he grips my wrist. His eyes change. Not like Kristie’s did that one time. Hers went white. Percy’s have gone empty. Black. Flat. Lifeless. It shocks me to my core and I’m frozen in place.

Move, Bren! Move!

Frank’s voice beats like a drum in my head, her words echoing, only broken up by Gabe’s voice. I can’t understand what he’s saying. He’s too far away.

Do you see them? Do you? Bren, he was there! It was him! It was fucking him!

Images flash behind my eyes and then I’m jolted backward. But instead of falling on my behind I hit something firm, warm, familiar.

“Gabe.”

Gabriel

“Bren! Bren? Shit. Fuck!” My arms are wrapped around my woman, because that’s what she is. Mine. But my mind is elsewhere. It's on that fuckhead who just skedaddled out of here.

“How on earth does he move so fast?” Grammy puffs, reappearing out of nowhere. “I tried to chase him down but he did some weird staring juju stuff that froze me for a moment. What’s that about?” she asks, hands on hips, as she looks at me.

“How the hell should I know?” I ask her, bewildered. I can tell it's written all over my face, because Starla, Bren’s coworker, is looking at me like I’m a few fries short of a happy meal.

“Soooo, that was weird, right?” Starla asks, looking between my angry/bewildered/pissed/probably haunted face, to Brenna, then back to me.

Realising that I’m the only person who can answer because Brenna is still a little shaken and I’m the only other person who can see Grammy, I clear my throat, trying to think up some words that will make some semblance of sense.