Requiem

“Come with me,” Jared said, leaving the room.

Ryan glanced at Claire, and then fol owed Jared into the hal way. Claire’s grip on my hand tightened.

“You can hear them,” I said.

She looked down at our hands, and then closed her eyes. “Don’t ask me to tel you, Nina. Let Jared do this his way.”

“Okay,” I nodded, trusting her judgment.

Ryan returned with a solemn expression. Uncomfortable at best, afraid was a more honest description. He took a few steps toward Claire and I, and then held out his hand.

“Feel like going to the pub?” he asked me.

My eyes veered to Claire, and my head turned slightly unintentional y. “Um…I guess,” I said, looking back to Ryan.

“Good. Give her something shiny, Claire,” he said, pul ing me to stand.

Claire reached behind her and held out her pistol. “Take it,” she shrugged, trying too hard to seem indifferent. “I have seven more at home.”

My first instinct was to ask a dozen questions, but something told me time was an issue. Jared wanted this to be over.

I took a deep breath. “On the bright side, if I die, I don’t have to worry that I didn’t study for the test I have in the morning.”

“You’re not going to die,” Ryan said. “This is just a test run.”

“A test run,” I said, looking at the gun in my hand. “Okay. Let’s see what they’ve got.”

I fol owed Ryan into the hal , passing Jared along the way. He didn’t meet my eyes, so I grabbed the sleeve of his shirt.

“You don’t exactly exude confidence. Can you just pretend?”

He forced a smile. “I’l see you soon.”

“Good job,” Ryan said dryly, pul ing me behind him.

In Ryan’s truck, we took the short trip to the pub. Every bump, every pot hole, every street light seemed especial y big or bright, as if my mind wanted to record every second of my last moments on earth.

The truck slowed to a stop in the parking lot across the street, and I looked out the window to the pub. Col ege co-eds meandered on the sidewalk, congregating in smal groups, laughing and chatting without a care in the world. I had seen a few of them in the hal s of Brown, and I wondered what they would say when they heard the news, and what the news would even be. Would the papers call it an accident? A murder? A suicide? I shuttered when thoughts of myself post-mortem. Would demons al ow me any dignity or mercy at al ?

“Ryan? If it comes down to it, don’t let them take me, okay? I don’t know what things something so evil is capable of…but I don’t want to….” I struggled to say it aloud, “Don’t let me suffer, okay? Take care of it. You know what I mean?”

“What?” he said, his nose wrinkling. “You mean you want me to issue a mercy shot before they drag you off to torture you.”

I didn’t remember Ryan being so blunt before. Perhaps the desert had taken every bit of sensitivity he had left.

“I don’t want to be alone with those things. Even for a minute. If they take me, I’m giving you permission.”

“Stop,” Ryan said. “I won’t let anything happen to you, and I know Jared, Claire and Bex are al watching. You act like you’ve never been bait before.”

I sighed. “Can’t say that I have. Let’s get this over with.”

Ryan stepped out, and then walked around, opening the door. We walked into the pub hand-in-hand, and Ryan scanned the dozen or so faces, picking a spot on the corner of the bar. He ordered a shot and two beers, and then rested his elbows on the dark wood in front of him. The music was blaring, and the loud, variable tones of conversation blurred into one another.

“So what’s the plan?” I asked over the music.

The bartender set our drinks on the bar, and Ryan tossed him a twenty. “I don’t know. I’m just fol owing orders. So far it’s to drink, but not too much where I can’t aim straight., or it affects Claire.”

“Aiming’s not going to help,” I grumbled. “Why do you get a shot and I don’t?” I asked, watching him throw his back.

“Jared said you get one beer.”

“Just one?” I picked at the label on the bottle. “I guess he drinks when I do.”

We didn’t bother to toast to anything. I tried my best to forget that I was terrified, and sipped on the bitter, dark liquid until it was gone. Ryan ordered another round, but when the bartender placed a ful bottle in front of me, Ryan grabbed it with his other hand, drinking from them both. So much time had passed since I’d had any alcohol at al , just the one round helped to drown out the laughter in the background that became increasingly annoying as time dragged on.

When Ryan final y stood, I couldn’t help but breath a sigh of relief.

“That’s it? We’re done?” I asked.

Ryan shook his head. “No, we’re just starting. Zip up your coat, we’re going for a walk. Once we hit that door, I need Oscar-worthy drunk, giggly col ege kid on the sidewalk, okay?”

“Wel , I’ve never felt so giggly in my life, so this should be a breeze,” I deadpanned.

Ryan pushed open the door, and I hooked my arm in his. We walked a block, and then made a turn. After two blocks, we turned in a different direction.

“This is obvious,” I said, noting the dark street.

“Sshh, we’re being fol owed,” Ryan whispered.

“Goody,” I said, trying to keep my steps in line with his.

Before we reached the corner, two men stepped onto the sidewalk from the al ey. Ryan stopped, pushing me behind him.

“Hi there, boys,” Ryan said.

One of the men smiled. “That’s a pretty little girl you got there.”

Ryan was clearly irritated. “Thanks. Tel your boss I’m insulted.”

“And why’s that?” the other man said, amused.

Ryan smiled. “You’re smal er than I expected,” he said, looking up at the ominous man looming over him.

Without warning, Ryan headbutted the first goon. The man stared into Ryan’s eyes, stunned. Blood suddenly streamed from his nose, and then he stumbled back, final y fal ing to the ground.

The second man pul ed his weapon. His smal smirk quickly faded when Ryan and I traded glances, and then pul ed ours. Every nerve in my body was on edge. Instead of fear, I was fighting back a smile. Pointing a gun, and being on the offensive was so empowering that I had to work to keep from giggling with excitement.

“He set us up!” the man said, kicking at his partner, shaking as his kept his gun pointed in our direction.

“Get up, Lenny! We got set up!”

“Put your gun on the ground!” Ryan growled. His voice sounded different than what I was used to. No doubt residuary from his tour in Afghanistan.

The man did as Ryan commanded, and then scampered off, pul ing his friend with him. I clicked the safety on the pistol in my hand, habit from my lessons with Jared, and then stuffed it into the back of my jeans.

“That was the plan?” I asked.

Ryan put his hands low on his hips, spitting on the ground. “No. That was most definitely not the plan. They were supposed to take you.”

“Take me?”

“Wel …not take you, take you…try to take you, I guess. I real y don’t know.”

“That makes me feel a lot better!” I huffed.

Ryan froze when a clicking sound echoed in the al ey behind us. Donovan stood just feet away, pressing the barrel of his gun to Ryan’s head.

“So they’re trusting humans to watch their Taleh’s now, are they? I don’t care if you are some sort of hero, I ain’t buyin’ it,” Donovan said, looking around.