Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I’m about to speak when I spot two women in his massive bed, both covering themselves up and scowling at me. One has tattoos all the way up her arms, and the other, blood red hair.
Prophet’s in the middle and sits up, staring at me like he’s considering which ancient torture technique to utilize on me.
“What?” he snarls. “If you’re here to stare, should have climbed a branch, because I’m not giving anyone a show!”
“I… No. It’s Angel. I need to talk to you.” I hope it’s clear that I mean alone.
Prophet rubs his face, messing up his beard, but then climbs out from under the covers, naked as the day he was born. He turns to the women with a smirk, walking backward toward the balcony doors. “I will be back.”
They end up laughing and shaking their heads, then whisper something to each other, but I couldn’t give less of a damn about Prophet’s love life. I open the balcony door so we’re out faster. If he wants to risk flashing all of Vulture Hollow, that’s not a problem for me.
He grabs a pack of cigarettes off a hand-carved chair and closes the door behind us. There’s a chill in the air, but Prophet doesn’t seem to mind as he lights his cig.
“Nasty black eye there, Creep.” Prophet cocks his head at me, arms crossed over his chest. The occult tattoos are on display like a protective sigil. “It’s not his work, is it?”
“No. Of course not. Angel wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
I stand closer, so we’re not overheard, even though it does make me uncomfortable that he’s dressed in only body hair. At least this means he really doesn’t give a shit whether I’m gay or not.
“What is it then? And it better be good,” he mumbles, pointing at the door to his bedroom.
“Angel’s gone. His car is gone. He’s not answering his phone. It’s not like him. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I wouldn’t come to you if I didn’t think it was serious.” I tap the banister, unable to contain the anxiety swallowing my chest. It’s like a black hole I’m falling into, a new crevice opening in the caves, and I’m tumbling ever deeper, scraping my nails on the wall in helpless terror.
Prophet narrows his eyes. “You think he ghosted you?”
“No,” I say instantly. The very idea is absurd. “He wouldn’t. We said—” My throat tightens around the words. “He’s not that kind of person. He accepted my patches.”
Prophet’s expression changes, and something flickers behind his eyes. As if he’s waking up to what I’m saying with every inhale of smoke. “Creep, he’s… I’ve only known him a while, but he’s a gentle soul. You have to take into account that yesterday’s fight might have spooked him. The biker life isn’t for everyone—”
I slap the cig out of his hand and push him at the railing in fury. The wood creaks when he hits it. “You’re not listening! I know Angel better than I know my own soul. Call it fucking psychic if you want. It’s like he disappeared into thin air, slipped into darkness and I’m on the edge of it, clawing at the shadows, because I know he needs me. I can’t reach him, Prophet.” My voice cracks, and I can’t even be embarrassed because I’d crawl naked over broken glass if it got me closer to Angel.
Prophet looks straight into my eyes, holding onto the balustrade as if he expects me to hurl him over it. “Okay. I hear you, brother.” He puts his hand on my shoulder, and I’m surprised how calming that feels. “What are you saying happened? Where do we start looking?”
The “we” in that last question makes me feel less alone. I won’t have to dig through the dark with bleeding fingers all by myself. As I wrack my brain for clues, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the glass doors of the balcony.
“Domino,” I whisper, his name like bile spilling over my tongue. “I shouldn’t be telling you this but I have to. Domino’s his ex, and he’s not taking rejection well. He’s obsessed with Angel, and yesterday, he found out where he is and with who. You must keep this a secret until we’re sure, but he could have taken Angel. He knows this area, and wherever Angel went, Domino could have followed him. Fuck!” I can’t keep my voice down as I kick the innocent wooden chair. “He took him. He must have. I should have been there. I should have—” I cover my head and scoot down, once more falling into endless darkness when I remember Domino’s hand on Angel’s neck.
Prophet crouches beside me, then exhales through his nose, calm as always. “We don’t panic. We act.”
I drop my hands to look at him, slouched and curled up as if I’m no longer human but some creature from the caves. My vision’s still shaking at the edges. “You believe me?” I croak.