Sinister

Chapter Fourteen

Leighton bit her nails as she waited for the elevator. They were a mess again, she had tried painting them but she had spent the better part of the morning picking away at the colour. Sighing, Leighton shoved her hands into her pockets, slipping into the elevator and standing beside an older lady who's spine curved like a fishhook.

The button for floor four lit up when Leighton pressed it. The elderly lady made no attempt to call for a floor and she didn't get off the elevator with Leighton. The hall was dimly lit, one of the overhead lights was flickering.

Leighton sucked in a breath and headed down the hall, making her way to the corner apartment. Number sixteen. Her knock echoed throughout the hall, the only sound on the otherwise silent floor. Nerves pricked when Tate's door swung open from her touch.

Casting a cautionary glance over her shoulder, Leighton moved into the apartment and looked around. Almost everything was exactly the way it had been when she had visited Tate the first time. The furniture was in the exact same place, the box of Chocolate O's he had bought her sat on the table, the Grim Reaper figurine still sat on the window ledge. The only thing missing was Tate.

Leighton walked through the apartment, making sure he wasn't there before settling into the La-Z-Boy recliner and picking at the duct tape on the armrest. She figured she would wait until Tate got back from whatever job he was on. She waited for three hours before she realised he wasn't coming back.

Tears stung but she blinked them away. She didn't have time for crying anymore. If she was really going to take back control of her life, she couldn't do it with her vision obstructed or her throat clogged with emotion.

Leighton exited the apartment, moving swiftly and confidently despite her disappointment. She flagged the attention of the man who was walking down the hall, keys in one hand and a grocery bag in the other.

"Hello sir, I was just wondering if you knew what happened to the tenant who occupied the corner apartment?" Leighton held her breath as she waited for a reply.

The man shrugged, "He died like three months ago."

Leighton's heart dropped. "Okay, thanks."

Shuffling towards the elevator, Leighton made no other attempts to hail down any of Tate's neighbours. He was squatting there illegally so what were the chances he became buddies with the other renters on his floor?

When the elevator doors opened the elderly lady was still huddled in the lift, spotted fingers curled around her purse. Leighton watched her warily as she slipped inside the elevator. The woman looked up, the puff of white hair on her head contrasting wildly with her dark skin.

"Empty, huh?"

Leighton stared. "What?"

"Four sixteen is empty," the woman said, clicking her tongue. "It's a shame."

Leighton's breath stalled. "You knew who lived there?"

"He brought me food sometimes," the lady told her, "he had such sweet eyes."

Leighton scrambled for her only lead. "Do you know where he went?"

The lady shook her head, "I haven't seen him for a week." The doors opened and Leighton shuffled out, stunned and confused. Tate hadn't come back to his apartment after he gave her the piece of her soul back. So where had he gone?

For the next hour Leighton sat in her car with her eyes closed. She was trying to locate Tate the same way she had the day she met him at the funeral. Unlike last time, Tate's address didn't come flying into her brain. Her mind was empty. There was no tug to pull her in his direction, no inkling of where he might be. Leighton had no idea where to find him.

An idea occurred to her and Leighton had to swallow her pride as she pushed the car into drive and crossed town. Leighton pulled up in front of Petra's shop, parking the car and revving herself up before pulling open the glass door.

Wind chimes rang out from above her and Petra looked up from the front counter, tortoise glasses balancing on the bridge of her nose. Petra's mismatched eyes flicked back to the book she was reading.

"Get out."

Leighton sucked in a breath. "I'm just browsing." Leighton watched as Petra fought down a smile. Taking her time, Leighton let her fingers trail the spines of various books and feathers. Eyes wandering back to Petra every few moments.

After a moment Petra sighed, resting her battered novel on the counter pages down. "What is it, kid? What's your question now?"

Leighton came up to the counter, holding a dream catcher. "I just want to buy this." Petra watched her for a long moment before punching in a code on the cash registers and relaying back the price.

"I don't need any change," Leighton said.

Petra put the dream catcher into a paper bag. "I'm sorry for what I said last time, the spirits were out of line." Leighton shrugged, looking past Petra's odd way of apologizing. "Is there something you wanted to ask me?"

Leighton grabbed her purchase. "I want to know if you can summon death."

Petra raised an eyebrow. "That's interesting." Petra walked around the counter, one hand worrying over the long braid that hung over her shoulder. "What do you mean by that?"

Leighton felt her cheeks flush. "Isn't there some sort of... ceremony or something? You know, light a few candles, hold hands, chant something in Latin. I need to find him."

Petra twisted the rings on her fingers and for the first time Leighton noticed she wore a wedding band. "Those kinds of things are for the movies, kid. I'd assume that there is only one way to find the person you seek, trail someone who is dying."

Leighton wasn't sure if what she was about to do was a good idea. Sitting in her car, staring at the police station, she could almost certainly say it wasn't. Leighton bit her nail as she stared at the doors fighting the last inner debate before launching herself out of the car and striding towards the building.

Leighton entered the building and fought an onslaught of memories. Taking a second to herself, she ignored the way the police officers and service staff looked at her. Leighton painted on a smile as she approached the front desk and leaned towards the receptionist, waiting.

"Can I help you?" the woman droned, nails tapping at her keyboard.

"Um, yeah, hi?" Leighton wasn't sure how to go about this. "I wanted to see if Officer―"

"Leighton Connors?" Officer McGuinty was heading towards the front door. He had emerged from the bullpen behind the front desk and was waiting for her response, weapon belt in hand.

Leighton moved away from the receptionist, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Hey, I was wondering if I could go on a ride along with you." Officer McGuinty blinked but didn't respond. Leighton elaborated, "I'm thinking about going into law enforcement and I wanted to see what it was like before I registered for police college."

McGuinty seemed suspicious. "I'm about to go on a call now―"

"Great!" Leighton beamed, smiling until her cheeks ached. "Can I come?"

McGuinty made a small noise in the back of his throat and then reached behind the receptionist's desk, picking up a Kevlar vest and tossing it to her. "If you want to come, you wear this."

Leighton almost laughed. "It's St. Hope."

McGuinty just gave her a flat look. "Sign her out, Lisa." The receptionist didn't look up from her computer as she mock saluted McGuinty and kept on typing. The officer turned to Leighton. "Let's go, kid."

McGuinty lead her towards his squad car, yanking the door open and using one hand to brush off the seat. When Leighton looked, she saw black rocks piled on the floor of his car. McGuinty looked at her sheepishly, "I think some kids are trying to rile me up," he told her, "I've been finding rocks all over the place for the last two weeks." There was something in McGuinty's voice that told her he was a lot more freaked out than he was letting on.

Leighton pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and forced a smile. McGuinty was a cautious driver and a quiet companion. Leighton fiddled with the straps on her vest to occupy her mind and keep her hands busy. The itch to touch the multitude of buttons and switches on McGuinty's dashboard was almost unbearable. Pulling the Velcro off her vest helped curb that notion.

"Should be too long," McGuinty said gruffly, pulling the door open and turning off the engine. "Best you stay here."

Leighton followed the officer with her eyes as he approached to young males who seemed to be in a dispute. McGuinty's hands waved around as he spoke, resolving some sort of petty argument over a bicycle. When everyone was pacified McGuinty returned to the car, dabbing sweat off his forehead.

"How did that go?" Leighton asked.

McGuinty started, almost as if he forgot that she was tagging along with him. "Fine." Leighton studied the side of the officer's face as he reversed, returning to the main road and listening to the police scanner. It was so different being around him now that she could actually remember the months they had spent working on her case against Braden.

The entire day was uneventful. Nothing besides small disruptions arose in the town and by the time the sun set beyond the horizon Leighton was sure that Tate was intentionally avoiding the officer. Relieved but disappointed, Leighton let the officer drive her home.

"What do you think, kid?" McGuinty asked as he typed her address into his GPS. The action wasn't necessary but Leighton didn't bother him.

"Hmm?" she replied, lost in her own thoughts. It was unlikely McGuinty would let her trail after him for a second day which meant she was going to have to find another way to locate Tate.

McGuinty laughed gruffly. "About policing, you interested?" If she were to be honest, Leighton would've told the officer that policing seemed to be a dull job. It wasn't like television, it was more mundane. McGuinty seemed to spend the majority of his day writing speeding tickets and settling inconsequential arguments.

"Really cool," Leighton offered, "I think I might apply."

"You've probably already missed the cut off," McGuinty grunted.

"Next semester," Leighton replied nonchalantly. McGuinty leaned forward when his scanner buzzed. He turned the volume up and listened, mind following the codes that meant nothing to Leighton.

"We've gotta take a detour, kid," McGuinty told her, "five minutes tops."

For some reason, Leighton felt nervous. "No problem." McGuinty turned off the GPS's pre-calculated course and made a quick U-turn before pulling into the plaza Rudd's bookstore used to be in. Leighton's eyes stayed on the store while McGuinty parked. It wasn't until his door slammed that Leighton realised where they were. Four Crooked Clovers.

Leighton got out of the car, feeling ridiculous in her Kevlar vest as she followed McGuinty into the building. He turned when he heard her footsteps, face resembling a raspberry. "Why wouldn't you wait in the car?"
Leighton shrugged. "I'm already here."

McGuinty grumbled something before entering the club, flashing his badge at the guy manning the door and grabbing the top of Leighton's arm reassuringly. All the times Tom had spoken about his favourite poker club had never let Leighton's imagination conjure this atmosphere as where the jolly man spent his Friday evenings.

Four Crooked Clovers was a haze of purple lights and black velvet. The tops of most of the tables were either cork or green material, giving the club a relaxed feel. To one side were three pool tables, lined up evenly with pool cues lining the walls and billiard balls splayed across the tables.

The bartender eyed Leighton as she walked by, flipping a towel over his shoulder as he laughed. Leighton, slightly unnerved, shuffled closer to McGuinty so she could hide behind his broad back. Barflies and gamblers alike stared at McGuinty as he walked by, naturally wary of any person carrying a badge.

"Best to stay close," McGuinty grumbled to her, hiking up his belt. Leighton didn't protest.

The reason the cops had been called to the club in the first place became obvious when they made their way to the back room. Leighton parted the beads hanging in the door way, eyes popping as she entered the most elaborate room in the establishment.

The poker room was covered in gold wallpaper and along the walls were framed pictures of past winners. The table was large and round and from the looks of it, very high quality. A couple of the high backed chairs had been pushed over and flipped while cards and chips were strewn all along the floor.

"What's the problem here?" McGuinty asked. His voice was raised to a yell as he tried to speak over the three men who were fighting on one side of the room. None of them paid McGuinty any sort of attention. The officer looked over his shoulder at Leighton. "I'll just be a second."

Leighton almost jumped out of her skin when a hand clamped down on her upper arm. Tugging away and turning, Leighton's skin flushed when she realised it was Tate who was holding her. When he registered the terror on her face, he released her with a dark look.

"What do you think you're doing here?" Tate growled, flicking her Kevlar vest.

She angled her chin upwards at him. "Looking for you."

Tate's eyebrows lifted but his mouth stayed firm. "I hope you didn't find me just so you can ask me a favour," Tate said pointedly. When he folded his arms Leighton couldn't help but check for her imprint in the crook of his elbow. It was gone.

"What?" Leighton balked, "no."

Tate's eyes drifted to McGuinty who was trying to calm down the three men in the corner. From the sounds of the argument, he wasn't getting any closer to a peaceful resolution.

Heaving a sigh, Tate reached for Leighton's arm again but then hesitated before his skin touched hers. Instead, he gave her a sharp look and started walking, clearly expecting her to follow. She did, moving with him as he entered the main part of the club.

Tate sat down at a table and waved a waitress away. "What do you want then, Leighton? I'm working."

Leighton's anger flared. "What do I want? Did you forget everything I said to you last week? Did you forget how we felt about each other before Killian came and tore everything apart?"
Tate's eyes darkened. "Don't talk about him like that, he's trying to help me."

"Help you?" Leighton demanded, "you're the one who told me that Killian was incapable of helping anyone besides himself."

Tate rolled his eyes. "Did you come here to insult Killian or to ask me for something? I don't have time for this anymore, Leighton, I can't spend my time worrying about insignificant things." Leighton tried to keep her face stoic. She wouldn't let him see how much he had hurt her.

Sitting across from him, Leighton couldn't remember why she had even wanted to find him or why she thought he'd care enough to help her. Tate had been the one to throw her love for him back in her face. Tate had been the one to take his brother's side. Tate had been the one to inflict years of suffering on her in a span of a few days. Hadn't those acts alone shown how much he didn't care?

Killian's words were wriggling their way back into her mind. She wasn't the only one Tate had ever fallen for, helped, fussed over. She wasn't the only one he had caressed and held and kissed. She was one of many, she fit into a type, fulfilled a quota. Tate was eternal and she was replaceable.

Leighton resolved to ask a different question, "Tom. I asked about him but Killian never gave me an answer, I thought maybe you'd know something―"

"He's not marked," Tate told her, "I already checked."

Leighton quashed the hope before it could catch. "You're not living in your old place anymore," she noted, "where did you go?"

The expression in his eyes was hard to read. "Moved in with Killian," he grunted, giving nothing more up. "He thought it was time I stopped squatting."

They sat in silence for a long moment. Leighton watched the bustling club and Tate watched her. Leighton didn't know what else to say. She felt the overwhelming urge to disappear, to sink back into her numbing loneliness and hide under her sheets forever.

Tate cleared his throat. "Leighton I―"

A dull pop silenced the entire club.

And then there was chaos.

Leighton grunted as her shoulder was clipped by the oncoming crowd, knocking her off of her stool and sending her to the ground. She heard Tate call her name but when she looked up, all she saw was a blur of panicked people.

It took a second for Leighton to realise what had happened. A gun had fired.

It took another moment to make the connection. McGuinty.

Leighton tried to get up but a foot caught her across the chest, knocking her down but not winding her. Thanking whatever force there was for the Kevlar vest, Leighton pushed herself up and started elbowing her way through the crowd, moving upstream.

Someone's fist struck out against her brow bone but Leighton didn't stop moving, not even when blood started to gush down her temple. The crowd was fierce, moving manically to avoid danger while Leighton was running towards it.

Leighton craned her neck when she came to a standstill, looking for Tate. He was nowhere, already vanished. Swearing, Leighton ducked and started pushing her way faster, finally finding a break in the seemingly never ending stream of people and running away from the poker room.

The room was a mess. The table had been flipped and pictures had been pulled down from the wall while panicked footsteps had smashed the glass frames. There were only two people left standing in the room. The first person was the man who was holding a gun, a look of pure terror on his face as he struggled for breath. The second was Tate.

One of the men from the dispute earlier was slouched along the base of the wall. One hand was pressed against his abdomen, blood oozing from between his fingers, while the other was curled on his lap. His eyes were glassy. He was dead.

Tate was standing beside the dead man, breathing heavily and flexing his fingers as he met Leighton's eye. His message was clear. Tate had collected the dead man's soul and was ready for McGuinty.

Mind refocused, Leighton ran to the officer, falling beside him and letting her hands hover over the dark spot on his chest. McGuinty's eyes were rolling wildly, his skin pale and sweating. For a brief second, his eyes caught hers and he groaned, coughing up a small amount of blood.

"Why are you still here, kid?" McGuinty growled, "get out of here."

Leighton breath was coming in rapidly but it felt like she was getting no oxygen at all. "I can't leave you," she told him. Leighton's fingers shook over McGuinty's chest for the split second it took her to gather the courage to press her hand to his wound.

"Go," McGuinty gasped, not so sure sounding anymore. "I don't want―"

Leighton's eyes stung but didn't fill. "I'm right here." Desperately, she looked up at Tate who was staring down at her, achingly beautiful and impossibly divided. The look of grief on his face was enough to tell her everything she was wondering. Tate knew what this office r meant to her, he knew what McGuinty had done for her, felt the gratitude she felt.

"Leighton," Tate said, voice low and full of timbre. "I'm sorry."

Leighton suddenly turned ferocious. "You won't be taking his soul."

Tate's face slipped even more. "I have to."

Leighton looked down at McGuinty, watched as his face contorted in pain, felt his heart pumping under her hands. He was still alive and he was still fighting. This officer had fought for her, he had been on her side when it felt like the rest of the world wasn't. Now it was Leighton's turn to fight for him.

"If you want his soul, you'll have to take mine too."

All the colour slipped from Tate's face.

Shakily, Leighton lifted her hands off of McGuinty, praying he would be alright until the ambulance came. Tate watched her warily, not sure what she was trying to do. At that point, Leighton was unsure as well.

McGuinty swore. "Don't leave me, kid. Please―" he made a choking sound. "I don't want to be alone." Leighton forced herself to stand, forced McGuinty's pleas out of her ears, forced herself to keep her eye on Tate.

"Leighton," Tate said her name slowly. "What are you doing?"

Leighton looked down at McGuinty. She would do this for him. "I'm not marked. So I can't die, right?"

Tate recoiled. "Leighton."

The idea was taking off in Leighton's mind. The only way to distract Tate long enough for McGuinty to survive was to refocus his attention onto something he cared about more. Her.

Leighton took a few steps backwards. "I can't die if I haven't been marked, right? It's not my time so I could―I don't know. I guess I could do anything. I could walk into a fire, I could fall of a cliff, run across the freeway." Tate took a step after her, almost passing McGuinty by. This was what Leighton needed.

"Leighton," Tate thundered, "don't play around with this. You don't understand."

Leighton shrugged, the sound of an approaching ambulance lifted her heart and fueled her courage. "Don't understand? It's simple, Tate. If you have a stone, you die. If you don't, you live."

Leighton turned around completely and started walking. Panic squeezed her throat when she didn't hear him follow. But then Tate swore and started running, kicking Leighton into a sprint.

Leighton burst through the club's front door, green glow washing over her from the neon sign above. She looked around, trying to think of the best diversion. The people from the club had all but scattered, only a few stuck around.

Tate burst through the doors behind her, yelling her name. Leighton had no time to think after that, she started running, heading towards the road where cars were rushing back and forth. All she had to do was think of McGuinty in order to push herself across the first two lanes.

By some miracle, Leighton made it across, a truck blaring it's horn and swerving to avoid her. Tate screamed her name but Leighton didn't hear him. She looked around, eyes stinging from the oncoming headlights that were flashing in every direction she looked. They were the only light to break the night's darkness.

Leighton turned to see Tate fuming at the side of the road. Every few seconds a car passed between them, breaking off their view of one another. Behind him, Leighton watched as an ambulance pulled in front of the club. Relief piled on top of her chest. But it wasn't enough. Tate could still collect McGuinty's soul. Leighton had to be sure he couldn't.

Taking a deep breath, Leighton lifted up her hands, hoping her dramatics would be enough to keep Tate focused on her. He yelled her name again, this time sounding more desperate than angry.

She yelled back to him. "I can't do it anymore, Tate, I can't watch the people I care about die." Leighton wasn't sure if he heard her but if he had yelled back, it never reached her.

Stepping backwards, Leighton put herself in the direct path of oncoming traffic. For one crazy second, Leighton watched headlights rush her, blinding her vision and blocking her thoughts out. She prayed her theory was right, prayed she wasn't getting herself foolishly killed, prayed her mother wouldn't have to find her dead on the side of the road.

The oncoming car blared it's horn and Leighton's heart started to beat sporadically. The moment of calm from before was gone and Leighton screamed just as she felt the blow to her chest.

It felt like Leighton was falling backwards for an eternity. The car whizzed past, horn blaring long after it passed her. Leighton's whole body slammed against the concrete and then skidded to the shoulder of the road. Her head cracked against the pavement loudly, jarring her teeth in her mouth and blacking out her vision.

The last thing she heard was the sound of an ambulance pulling away and Tate screaming her name.