Babels of Bedlam - Part 6

“Hush now. Do as exactly as I advise, or I swear you will wish you had.”

I swiveled my head to the right, searching for the…

My brow contorted with confusion. “What…”

“You alright, mate?” Erik inquired, with what seemed to be genuine concern. “Looks as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

I turned back to him.

“Didn’t you hear-”

“I said hush.”

My muscles tensed. Nothing even close to acknowledgement of the voice passed across the wolfish man’s face. Had he not heard it? How couldn’t he have? It was crisp and clear, louder than the white noise around us, so vivid it might as well have been spoken directly into my ear.

“Smile. Tell him you're fine.”

“What?” I demanded.

Startled, Erik cocked his head before a jolt of electrifying pain vaulted through my body.

I heaved a muffled groan, wrapping my arms over my stomach involuntarily as if that would somehow help, before I heard it again.

“Do not question me. Do as I say. Try me again and I will not hold back.”

Hold back?

It didn’t take me but a second to straighten and plaster a grin on my face.

“I’m fine, thanks, Erik. I’ve got so many things going on in my head sometimes it’s hard to think straight.”

“Very humorous.”

Erik’s laugh was almost theatrical, the way he threw back his head, but he wasn’t my concern.

The voice I was hearing on the other hand...

I racked my brain, trying to muster a logical explanation for this. What could cause hallucinations? I hadn’t had anything to drink, so it’s not as if-

“That pain was far from a hallucination, I’d wager.”

I took a slow breath. Calm down, Owen, I thought to myself. Whatever it was-

“Cleary,” Erik agreed lightheartedly. “So, you just passing through, then?”

“Salisbury?” I questioned, furrowing my brow at his question. “No, I live here.”

“Really?” The man narrowed his eyes curiously. “Then you know Gramps.”

“Who?”

“Gramps,” he repeated, cocking a brow. “He watches over these parts. It’s a bit odd that you don’t know him. He keeps a pretty tight leash on us here in England, you know.”

“Us?”

“Hush. Tell him you travel a lot.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, replying almost in sync with the... well, whatever it was I was hearing. “There’s more than just you and me here, you know.”

“Ah, well,” I obliged readily to the voice’s demand. Electric shocks seemed to be an effective motivator. “I’m on the road a lot, so I don’t get a chance to mingle often.”

“I hear ya,” Erik nodded, buying the lie without hesitation. I suppose it wasn't like I ever gave him reason to assume otherwise. Or maybe he was just a trusting guy. “Well, if you ever get a chance, you should stop by the corner café on Main - Café Eleven. We got some people there you might like. One that may even be able to keep up with you at billiards. And anyway, if Gramps catches you here without his permission, he’ll skin ya.”

Skin me?

“Agree.”

“Yeah, sure,” I mumbled, feeling entirely whipped.

“So, you need help with the rider?” He unfolded his arms from across his chest and slid his hands into his jean pockets. His gaze shifted from me, honing in on a man across the room, sitting at the bar. “Or have you got it covered?”

I followed his gaze. The man himself wasn’t much. No more than average height or weight for someone his age – which must’ve been early thirties. Still, what the hell was a rider? I mean, he did have jeans and a leather jacket on. A biker, maybe?

“Don’t embarrass yourself,” the voice scorned. “Tell him you can handle it alone.”

“I’ve got it under control. Cheers, though, mate.”

Erik turned back to me, giving a nod. “Alright then. Take care of yourself around him.”

“You got it.”

Pushing off of the billiards table, he lifted a parting hand.

“See you around, I’m sure.”

I gave a smile. “Café Eleven, right?”

“You got it,” Erik called back amusedly, pointing at me in a playful manner before mixing in with the crowd of drunken patrons.

I exhaled, my eyes automatically drifting back towards the man at the bar. He pulse skipped with my gaze was met with his.

"Fuck."