Babels of Bedlam - Part 7

“Relax. Your pulse is hammering in your ears and it’s pissing me off.”

“Oh, gee, my apologies,” I muttered like a madman, my sarcasm quick to play the role of my defenses, quick to strike at the heart of my confusion.

“What for?”

I turned, leather-jacket man standing a foot from me. He hadn’t been walking as slow as I had hoped. Damn.

He was only a fraction shorter than I, with curly black hair and brown eyes that seemed too warm to be on his face. He didn’t seem as dangerous as that Erik guy made him out to be but looks were always deceiving. That much I knew. I tapped my middle finger against my thigh.

“Smile.”

And I did.

“Are you new around here?” He asked, casually putting his hands in the pockets of his jacket. No sign of any belligerence yet, but that could change in the blink of an eye, and I had no doubt it would if I happened to make the wrong move.

“That seems to be the ongoing consensus,” I nodded.

“Hush, would you?” The voice cut in. “Tell him you’ve been waiting for him.”

I opened my mouth to speak before pausing. I wasn’t entirely positive why my brain was so quick to follow the orders of…whatever this was. Was it because of the electric shock? How had he even done that? In fact, I was beyond perplexed with the fact that I wasn’t yet having a mental breakdown. Why wasn’t my pulse in overdrive? Where was the adrenaline? Wouldn’t that be the normal reaction? Maybe…Maybe I already had the mental breakdown – could that explain this? Psychosis?

“Oh, stop with the melodrama, would you? Your brain is quick to follow my orders because your gut trusts me. Now do as I say before you make me angry.”

I clenched my jaw. Make you angry?

“Five,”

Oh, what? A countdown?

“Four,”

Do you think I’m a kid?

“Three, two,”

“Actually, rider.” I stole Erik’s word and hoped to God that I was using it correctly. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

I did my best to ignore the smug chuckle in my mind as the black-haired man cocked his head.

“You’ve been waiting for me, have you?” He asked with a smirk. “What for?”

Damn good question.

“Tell him you’re going to help him.”

I turned, leaning myself up against the billiards table - feigning calm - before I offered him a grin. “Well, I’m going to help you.”

“Help me?” He laughed, and genuinely at that. “What could you possibly help me with, etin?”

“Don’t bother asking. I’ll have everything explained in due time. For now, tell him Vin sent you to help complete the sword.”

“My name is Owen,” I remarked, trying to wrap my head around what the voice had just said. “And I hear you’re having trouble… completing the sword.”

“Speak more confidently, heimskur. You didn’t mishear me.”

Heimskur?

“You think I would trust someone like you, of all people?” The man questioned, cocking an amused brow.

“Well, you should,” I countered evenly. “Vin sent me.”

“Now you’ve got it.”

Shut up.

“Focus.”

I did all I could to not to ball my fists. I didn’t know what this was, but along with the uncertainty and, admittedly, slight fear, it was really starting to irk the hell out of me.

“Vin?” The man questioned before narrowing his eyes. “Like hell.”

“Play it off.”

I gave him a shrug. “Hey, whatever you want to believe. You’re the one who needs my help, not the other way around.”

The man glared his dark eyes at me. “Do you know who I am, etin?”

“His name is Al, but that’s not what he means.”

I gave a laugh, understanding the voice’s comment with frightening speed. “Of course, I do, Al. But do you know who I am? Vin must’ve sent me for a reason.”

There was a moment of silence, but I knew the voice was there, like an open phone-line where no one was speaking. And then, “Frightening speed indeed, Owen. How did you know to say that?”

Say what?

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think so, etin.” The man crossed his arms, fixing me with an appraising glare.

I gave another shrug. “Hey, your loss, right?”

Al eyed me for a moment before leaning in close to my right ear.

“I wouldn’t go around causing any trouble if I were you, kid.”

He lingered for a threatening beat before pulling back and heading - at an eased pace - towards the side exit.

“Kid?” I questioned once I was positive he was out of earshot.

“Not bad, heimskur, but he’ll be back.”

"What? Why?" I hissed. "Who the hell is he? Who the hell are you?"

“Oi, mate!” I jumped when Marc clapped me on the shoulder. “Who the ‘ell were those two blokes?”

“Where the hell have you been, Marc?” I bit, my tone sharper than I intended.

“I was over talking to Frankie at the bar.” He frowned defensively. “I saw you talking to those two guys and they seemed like the kind I wouldn’t want to mix with, so I backed off.”

“And they seemed like the type I would mix with, Marc?” I countered, my brow pressed in frustration.

“How am I supposed to know?” He grumbled.

I gave an irritated sigh before starting towards the water closet.

“Where you going?” He called after me. “What about the game?”

“Screw your game, man.” I mumbled, eliciting an echoing laugh within my mind.