ROOK'S GIRL.

CHAPTER TWO.

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CHAPTER TWO

11/70

ROOK.

I let out a quick breath. Slow and heavy, flickering the cigarettes into the wind. Fesbury. A town split between the shameless and the prideful. Too small to be important, too arrogant to know it. I hate this place. I hate the fake quiet, it's secrets dressed as traditions. And as the car rolls past the crooked welcome sign. I lean my head against the window, watching fog slither along a tree line like it has something to hide. Figured. Since this town hides secrets and skeletons in plain sight.

The air smells like damp wood, dried up dreams and bad decisions. Nostalgic if you're sentimental. I'm not. I step out of the car once we reach the hotel. Kyle did make sure I was booked in a hotel that suited my taste. Or at least tried, my eyes trails down on the architecture. " Take my bag. I have some unfinished business," I tell the driver bringing my hand forward and he hands me the key. I boarded the fastest plane here and came with nothing but a duffel bag, my usual knife and the kind of headache that only people bring. Let the town pray I leave the same man I arrived as.

This town's name alone felt like a stain on my tongue. It hasn't changed. I think making my way down the rail, and as I make my way my extremely expensive boots hit the gravel with the same sharp sound I remembered. A sharp pain passes through me. But I don't wince. I hate this poor excuse of a town.

I find the nearest wall and lean on it. I lit a cigarette dragging it like it was the only thing tethering me to earth, it's my fourth of the day. I smoke more when I have to go to places I don't like. Especially if those places are enclosed. I can't help but think that something is wrong. Call it the renown Motimer hunch. It feels like I am walking into a trap. It is too easy. I could feel a stare and I give them my death stare. And they flinch switching direction. Good let them remember, I'm not here to play games. I hate this feeling. The feeling of something I'm uncertain of. The mission was clear. Jonathan Wales. Dead or alive. Everything in me screamed at me to run for the hills. The old man sure did know what he was doing when he sent me here.

I didn't mean to look. But something catches my eye. A girl. My cold eyes land on her. On how she looks around like she's hiding something. Weird because she didn't look like she could hurt a fly. But then there's always a different side to a coin and I'm curious what's hers.

And then as she walks but then trips, and falls flat on her face. Well isn't this pleasant to watch. Then a scream follows. Anger. Genuine. Unpracticed. Like she's frustrated with the entire world. And as she gets up, something about how she masks her wince and embarrassment impresses me. She's dressed in a denim jeans ,blue top and red unbuttoned shirt.

Our eyes meet. Something stops inside me. Was it my breath or me smoking? I can't decide. She's magnificent. Too beautiful to belong here. They don't make this kind of beauty anymore. The kind that bewitches you and grabs your attention without asking. Because that's the only way she could have it. Those eyes, a stunning shade of green. Face flushed with a few freckles. The sun makes her skin glow, a gorgeous brown, she's ethereal. Her hair is long, curly. Her lips, unpainted and it screams defiance, are slightly parted,as if she's about to speak but says nothing. Apparently I'm not the only one stuck in this spell that the siren before me cast. There vulnerabilitly there, a flicker of uncertainty I find myself wanting to explore.

It's a dangerous game. One I'm all too familiar with. And she looks like trouble. " You know..." I start, " That was a really dramatic entrance. A little extra for someone trying to sneak in." Nothing surpasses my eyes.

She blinks. " Excuse me?"

Playing dumb are we.

" You screamed like a banshee. And you're in my way," I'm lying. She's worth the sight. Who knew Fesbury hid a gem. In a mine nonetheless . She moves closer to me and- d*mn, this siren. I didn't sign up for this. But it's good distraction than cigarettes that much I'll admit.

" And you're smoking in an active mine shaft. Not reckless at all. Mr president," this makes me smirk. I don't remember the last time someone talked back to me. Apart from my annoying cousins Kyle and Mario. They wouldn't dare, because of who I was and my reputation of sometimes having a short temper. People never know which comes first. So they play it safe and stir clear. And surprisingly I can't decide where both of those are. " One Spark-" " And we all get free cremation. Efficient if you ask me," I state ignoring those bewitching eyes and that scowl. It's almost cute. Almost. So I get another drag, to just see simply what she could do. And I'm disappointed when she just stares down at me.

" We are all going to die someday flowers," I quip, staring the flowers disoriented in between her curls. " That doesn't mean you should go around smoking in mines..." She cuts her self off looking at me, probably trying to give me a name. Impress me flowers. " Dark soul," she concludes. I chuckle. Not bad. " D*mn, what I'd do to look at myself in your eyes," I blurt, I'm curious of what gave her that impression. " But enough about me. I'm curious little thief, what are you doing here? Lost your way to the gift shop?" She swallows avoiding me eyes, " I'm not a thief," she declares hands pressing on the badge that didn't belong to her. Hands digging into it tightly, the classic tell- tell, yet she looks innocent while doing it. And that's dangerous because she can manipulate anyone if she as much as smiled at them. " The badge states otherwise." " It doesn't prove anything," she presses on." Then worse. You're lost. " " This is my town you're about to blow up. I have every right to-" I cut her off. Again. " Babysit me? Run home flowers," I suggest flickering ash from my cigarettes close to her boots. Her lips part in shock, and for a second my mind goes to a really dangerous place.

Didn't anyone teach her not to talk to strangers? But she had that prideful Fesbury thing where she probably thinks she's better and braver. I could snicker. But I can't have my source of entertainment run off just yet. Apparently the universe isn't as cruel.

“ It's not a habit, just something I do when I have dark thoughts, flowers," I explain honestly for some reason, though she doesn't look convinced, and for the first time I'm impressed by someone in a long time. And maybe just maybe she's smarter than she looks. Good. Because this world isn't for fragile flowers, siren. . I'd know first hand, although I'm not into the whole giving advice thing. The things I advocate for are socially unacceptable. I have a predilection. For people to go through life as it is. Not everyone makes it the same. And can I really be blamed for craving chaos?

I lean, those bright and sharp green eyes are something have never seen. " After all I am dark soul," I whisper. She narrows her eyes at me, “ I'm sure." I bite down a smile. “ Must be your entire personality then," she exclaims and shoulders past me, a smile curves it's way in. This siren...

“ That's quite a mouth you've got on you flowers," I shout after her, she doesn't stop until the furthest end, the corner to the east part of the mine. " Yeah? Wait till you hear what else I have got. Wait you won't," and as she turns a middle finger is up in the air. And a dark chuckle escapes me. She walks away like she owned the ground she stomped on. Elbow scratched. Fury in her bones. She shouldn't catch my eye. Matter enough to look or register. But something about the fire in her eyes made me forget what I was doing here in the first place. And watching her, I can't help but think she belongs to the latter. Fesbury had two kinds of people; those who sold their souls cheap. And the ones who cling to their pride like a god-d*mn armor. She was the latter. Wore it jagged. She reminds me of a match lit at both ends.

And for a tiny second, I forgot how cold I could become. The cigarettes now burns close to my fingers, I let it die." I'd run if I were you flowers. Some people are best to just pass by. Let me not catch you... Siren," I whisper to the wind, a plea to the universe, for her own sake. I'm that kind. But something tells me it won't be the last time I'll be seeing her. And God help her– I don't.

Now... Jonathan Wales. Your time is up. I throw a last glance back before heading an opposite direction. This might just be the only time I'm glad I came to Fesbury.