Chapter 65

“Where are we?” I ask with a shaky voice. Justin has betrayed us. I’m confused, and my head hurts. I’ve left my friends behind, even though I didn’t have a choice, and I feel guilty and ashamed for doing so. What was that sword Justin had? If it could install fear into Michael, it must be something deadly. The thought sends another surge of panic through me.
Cole tells me we’re in a hotel in Chapel St Leonard’s on the English coast, and that it closed recently for the end of the holiday season. “This village is built on sacred ground,” he says. “Demons and soulless creatures cannot step foot here. If they do, they will burn from the inside out.” I cringe at the thought and step further into the building, entering the first room. Multiple sofas fill the large area. The room has a large open fireplace. On one side a large bookshelf takes up all the space, and the other side is taken up by a large TV.
I take a seat on one of the sofas. My body still feels drained, and my head feels like it has a marching band parading through it.
Cole paces the floor in front of the mantelpiece. I close my eyes and block out his heavy footsteps. My mind taunts me with gut-wrenching images. My eyes snap open as I jump from the sofa.
I need to stop my mind conjuring up these unneeded and unwanted images. I step into the next room. A bar runs the full length of the far wall. To the right of the room is a stage. In the center, tables and chairs are neatly lined up as if expecting customers at any time. Dusty bottles lined the bar., their brilliant green and blues lost behind the gray-white layer. The place looks like it has been left empty for a long time. I walk across the floor. My trainers make a hollow tapping noise with each step. I open the hatch and step behind the bar running my hands across the bottles of spirits lining the wall.
I eye the vodka, find a glass, and rinse it under the tap. Placing the glass under the optic, I push up on it several times, but no liquid will come out. I slam the glass down, then spot some bottles under the bar. I grab one and pour myself a drink. The liquid burns my throat and instantly warms my chest.
I pour another and drink it straight down. I gag a little. I want to numb the pain and guilt. I want to stop these thoughts from taking over my mind. I swirl my glass, watching the liquid simmer. Without a second thought, I tip the alcohol down my throat. My head feels lighter, and my thoughts turn fuzzy.
A vision of my mother slips into my mind. I see her, drinking straight from a vodka bottle and rattling off a load of nonsense. Or more exactly, what I thought was nonsense.
Loneliness creeps over me, and a deep sadness etches my heart. Mom’s drinking destroyed us. It took our happiness away.
Placing the glass gently on the bar, I bury my head in my hands, Drinking doesn’t solve anything. I’ve got to face my problems and fight for myself, my family and my friends.
Familiar voices float around the room. I try to walk steadily. Chris, James, Misty, and Cole enter the bar. They stop and stare at me. They can see me struggling. I know I’m swaying from side to side. They look at me with mixed expressions.
Fire dances in Cole’s eyes, he’s angry, and I know why. The Michaels probably trusted him to keep me safe. Now here I am—drunk. Misty grins. All those times I refused to drink at parties floods my mind. I never let Misty persuade me. Now look at me.
James’s expression switches from amusement to disbelief. Chris looks at me blankly. He is mad, I can tell that much, but whether he’s angry at me, or Cole, only time will tell.
He fixes his glare on me. “Lucifer has destroyed our home. Justin is on some mad revenge quest, and the council want you dead, now more than ever. So, what do you do? You get yourself drunk!” Well, that answered my question. So, I had a little drink. How am I supposed to deal with everything being thrown my way? For one day, I just wish things would be simple, today is clearly not going to be that day.
James opens and closes his mouth as though he’s going to say something but says nothing. I laugh at his struggle for words. Chris grabs me by the elbow and drags me back to the bar. His fingers bite into my skin. He roughly pushes me towards a bar stool, and I nearly fall over. Slowly and carefully, I sit on the stool. My legs dangle above the ground. The static energy sends my head into a spin. He thrusts a glass of water my way.
I stare at it. My stomach is churning, and my head is spinning out of control. The thought of drinking the water is not appealing.
“Drink this, Kayla,” he demands. I shake my head a little, afraid to make any sudden movements. My mouth waters and my stomach feel like a washing machine on a full spin cycle. Jumping from the chair I run in search of the bathroom. I throw the door open in time to empty my burning stomach.
Staggering back inside, everyone but Chris looks away from me. He gives me an odd look and pushes the glass of water my way again. Taking a slow, deep breath, I pick the water up with shaking hands.
The cool liquid helps with the pressure in my head. I take little sips, but my stomach still feels queasy. He places a bag of crisps beside the water, and I groan as my stomach rumbles.
After successfully eating half the bag I slip down from the stool. Not saying anything, I go in search of a room to rest my pounding head.
The first room I enter is cozy, with a double bed covered in a cream comforter with matching drapes. Two fabric chairs sit in the corner. Again, there’s something strangely familiar about it all. I enter the ensuite bathroom and let the water run. The hot bath helps to relax my body.