Alliance of Shadows: NEIL

Stepping Up

Three days later, my father still hadn’t spoken to me about the situation with Izzy. Anything would have been better than nothing at that point, but he was one steadfast man that enjoyed making me sweat bullets for fun. I’d caught Phillip’s scent, knowing that he had no other reason to come by except to check in on me for dad. I was silently going crazy trying to figure out if I would have a place or even a life to live when they returned from the business trip Clara had to take. In the meantime, I continued to spend my time with Izzy.

On the third evening, I heard the familiar roar of my father's truck as he pulled into the driveway. The slam of the doors, the crunch of gravel, and their playful, teasing argument about who ate what on whom made me smile. A few minutes later, the front door opened.

I listened as they hung their coats in the hall closet before making their way up to their reserved floor of the mansion. No one, save for two Omega’s, was allowed to live on that level except the highest-ranking Werewolves or visiting dignitaries from the other factions in the Alliance. The Alliance of Shadows – a fitting name considering how the supernatural world worked.

“We’re in the living room, Dad,” I called out when I heard him come back down. I turned my attention back to the TV in time to see Pennywise pop out of nowhere.

Izaria yelped in surprise. She hid her face behind the curtain of her curls as she cursed the clown down. “Geesh, that clown sure knows how to give a good jump scare.”

I chuckled, “Yeah, no kidding.”

Dad came in with two beers in one hand and a bowl of salted nuts in the other. He offered me one of the bottles and seemed a little shocked when I declined. I motioned to the girl curled into my side, and he smiled tightly. One brow was raised over his brown eyes, but the understanding was clear. I was changing again.

This time, it would be for the better.

“Take it, Neil,” Izaria’s voice caught me off-guard, her words making me do a double take. I looked down into her bright eyes and ran my hand through her hair.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” I asked.

“It’s a beer with your dad, Neil. It’s not like you’re a raging alcoholic,” she said in an irritated voice. She sat up, took the beer from my father's hand, and popped the top before giving it to me.

I grasped her wrist gently in my hand as she tried to walk away and gave her my best puppy-eyed look. I stared up at her as she searched my face. “Don’t go.”

Her eyes dancing with amusement, she ran her fingertips over my jaw. I grabbed the hand she was touching me with and kissed the inside of her wrist. I watched her long lashes flutter as her breathing hitched. “I promised to make your favourite pasta, remember?”

Letting her go with a groan, I turned off the movie and started flicking through the channels. Finally, I settled on a previously aired basketball game. I swallowed the lump in my throat, knowing that he was holding back from telling me off without Clara running interference. We sat in silence for a few more minutes, neither of us knowing what to say to the other.

The first to break my silence, I said, “Go ahead and say what's on your mind, Dad. You think I’m a failure. A disappointment. You think I’m going to end up ruining her life.”

“I am disappointed in ye. Ya could have made better decisions regarding Izzy, but ye didn't,” he replied, pressing his fingertips together. “However, I know ya wouldn't do anything to hurt her. Yer not that kind of person, Neil.”

Blinking as our Irish roots bled into his speech, I paused. I didn’t share in his mannerisms, opting instead to learn how to talk like the kids I went to school with. Shaking my head, I said, “I don’t understand.”

“I’m giving ya my blessing,” His voice was even, steady.

I licked my lips, knowing that there was more to it than that. "But?"

Sliding his gaze from the television to me, he muttered, “If I ever find out yer mistreating her in any way, I'll kill ya meself.”

Something fell behind me, smashing to the floor. I jumped to my feet, looking for a possible threat. Confused when I saw nothing, I let my gaze travel only to land on Izaria as she started to cry. I looked down at the broken glass. While it was a waste, the beer was replaceable.

She wasn't.

Bending to clean it, she said. “I was bringing you in another round, but it slipped from my hand.”

“No!” Fear, stark and raw, rushed me when I saw her fingertips inch closer to the sharp brown shards.

Izzy stopped, pulling her hand back only to cradle it protectively to her chest. I moved to her side quickly, my face a mix of concern and dark humour. The dark humour part of that came from the fact that I was afraid of her getting hurt because the only person I actually feared was my father. I didn’t need him making good on the threat to end me. Cupping the side of her face, I said, “Izaria, look at me. It's fine, Izzy. You go on in the kitchen to finish what you were doing, and I’ll clean this up, okay?”

Though I had my back turned while I domesticated myself long enough to sweep and wipe the floor clean, I knew my father's eyes were following every move I made as I wordlessly cleaned the mess. “What? Say it, Dad. Don’t just bore holes in my back.” I stated as he continued to stare at me.

Having put away the cleaning supplies, I glared at him. He was sot back in his chair, a smug grin plastered on his face. His elbows were perched on the arms of the chair while his hands were folded neatly over his stomach. “It's admirin' ya were, the way ya handled that.”

I rolled my eyes, “How did you expect me to handle it?”

“Yer recent behaviour didn’t give me much to go on, Neil. Ya were actin’ like a child, like you were off with the fairies for the longest time,” he snickered. He rubbed the tip of his nose with the knuckles of his hand. “Thought Phil was yankin’ me chain, but that’s somethin’ else, right there.”

“Whatever,” Leaving him to his own devices, I went to see how Izzy was doing. As I walked into the kitchen, I knew something was wrong when she refused to look at me. “Are you okay?”

"Please don't," she pleaded. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she struggled with her mental state. At that point, I knew she was expecting me to do something bad to her.

“Izaria, seriously: it was just a beer and there's plenty more at the stores. Are you hurt?” I asked, waiting for her to answer.

“No, I was careful. Besides, you kind of kicked me out of it. Why do you talk differently from your father?” She asked, her voice echoing something that sounded close to uncertainty.

Shaking my head, I said, “He was raised by his Irish father after his English mother died. Dad was, I think, twelve at that time. I’m not entirely sure. So, because of that influence, he speaks with a mix of Canadian English with Irish intonations.”

“Interesting. I guess you and your friends speak the same, then?” She pressed as she moved. It almost seemed like she was using our chat to center herself. It was a good thing, though. She was unlearning toxic behavior in favour of more practical coping mechanisms.

“Yup, but not Leif. He’s from south-east Wales, and only moved here a few years ago,” I said. Stepping up behind her, I took the heavy pot from her hands. Straining the noodles, I dumped them into a bowl before handing them back to her. Her slender arms encircled my waist, and I smiled. I put down the utensils and turned to hug her back before she pulled away to mix the sauce with the noodles.

“Did you…” I glanced at the cooking materials she used. “Wow, from scratch?”

Her cheeks burned bright red, “Yeah. That… that’s not a problem, is it?”

“Not at all. Now I really can’t wait to try your cooking for myself,” I said. Carrying the pasta and breadsticks, I followed her as she set the table. I caught her eye as she tidied up the mess on the counter, and she giggled. Groaning, I drew her in for a kiss. Her brown hair was silky soft, and I couldn't resist the urge to run my fingers through it. I pressed my forehead to hers. “You need to laugh more. It’s a beautiful sound.”

My hands slid down her arms. Was I saving her or was it the other way around? I wasn’t sure anymore, and I no longer cared.

"Don't tease, Neil," she murmured. "It's not nice."

Chuckling, I hooked my finger under her chin and kissed the tip of her nose. "Who's teasing? I was being serious, Izzy."

She lowered her eyes, avoiding my gaze. "I'm not so sure about that. You like me, so you could be lying to spare my feelings."

'Ouch, that's a low blow,' I thought. "Izzy, I wouldn't be in here if my only concern was sparing you emotional pain."

At that moment, I knew that the damage done to her would be hard to undo. Then again, I wasn't ready to give up on her.

Not now, not ever.