Again, a lonely bed. The prospect of having a warm and loving body to curl around had been lost once more. Not for the first time, and most likely not for the last.

Kieran would have preferred to stay in his empty bed all day and avoid opening up shop, but doing such would only degrade his mood further. He could easily imagine his youngest sister commanding him to stop wallowing over whatever pretty face had turned him down.

Too eager, too giving, too persistent, too much.

Too vampiric could now be added to the list.

At least his light teasing has been well received. Discovering Jack squirmed when he loosened up his hold on his accent was a delight, and he would gladly spout off more obnoxious phrases just to see how else Jack would react. If they saw each other again.

He dragged himself out of bed and set about joining the land of the living for at least a few hours. His breath came as puffs of fog as he left his room and was greeted with his very own arctic blast. He thanked whatever hellish deity that had given him the foresight to ward his bedroom against opinionated spectors.

Lindsey was being as much of a poltergeist as she could manage, wearing herself out just to be a vindictive menace. His cupboards were open with every last dish and spice strewn across his kitchen and living room. He paused to admire a pyramid of glasses before dismantling it. As much as the vandalism was a reminder of how he'd failed, it was a welcome distraction.

The barest hint of a shadow lurked beside the television, radiating displeasure.

Kieran finished cleaning up after Lindsey and got ready for a day filled with restless unknowing. He kept telling himself he made the right decision in coming clean with Jack. Earning back Jack's trust would be a difficult task, and he wasn't sure if he was up to it.

Packing up and leaving behind any reminders of what could have been was always easier. But Jack's tempting scent of coppery sweetness had him holding onto the hope that he still had a chance. Maybe not a chance at getting a taste of Jack's blood, not anymore, but a chance at providing comfort and affection and receiving it in return.

Perhaps Jack would prove clumsy and slip up with a knife, and Kieran would be right there to kiss it better. Just a nice little excuse for a taste followed up with sweet caresses and kisses.

Lindsey made her presence unavoidable as Kieran made his way downstairs. Her form was sprawled out at the bottom of the steps, striking a morbid and impossible pose of broken and bloody limbs. She gurgled on her own blood, rolling her eyes and twitching as blood slowly seeped from her head wound.

"I've seen worse," Kieran said as he stepped through her stomach. He breathed through the tingling numbness of his foot as he headed past her.

"Of course you have. You own a mirror," Lindsey said with a petulant sneer, sitting up and frowning at her spilling intestines. She poked at them before fading into a shadow and following him.

Kieran went about his routine of turning on lights and unlocking the door, ignoring the freezing shadow nipping at his heels. He settled behind the counter, prepared for what would most likely be a day full of inquisitive customers. He would much prefer to spend the day alone, running over his mistakes.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

The bells on the door chimed, and Kieran seethed internally. Either he needed to replace the damned things or rip them out entirely. They were much too welcoming and cheerful for his current mood. He put on a well-practiced smile and faced his latest customer.

He straightened his back and tilted his chin slightly up as Detective Fairchild swiftly approached him. It would seem Jack had reached his decision and deemed it necessary to send a mediary. His smile turned frosty, despite wanting to remain in Fairchild's good graces.

"Detective Fairchild," he greeted with a nod.

"O'Byrne," Fairchild coldly returned.

By some miracle, the detective got his name right.

"I'll cut right to the chase. When was the last time you saw Jack?"

Dread gripped Kieran's heart. He thought he had more time to hunt down Jack's past tormentors. Apparently, he'd been sorely mistaken. "Sunday. I last spoke with him on Tuesday night," he hesitantly replied. "Detective… Might I ask what this is in reference to?"

"Would you mind if I searched the premises?" Fairchild asked, his calm demeanor barely masking seething rage.

Kieran forced back the knee jerk reaction that he was being targeted for being Irish. Wrong place. Wrong time. Here and now, he was mostly seen as a charming oddity.

"I would mind, but if it will set your mind at ease, then please," he said, gesturing to the back of the store. A soft chill brushed against his shoulders, and he resisted shrugging off Lindsey's curiosity.

"Anything I should be made aware of?" Fairchild looked from the storage room door to Kieran.

Besides the bloody ghost?

Kieran tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "If Jack has fallen victim to foul play, then I may be tempted to do something that will end in my arrest."

"Right," Fairchild scoffed.

"I am at fault for an error in communication, Detective Fairchild, not whatever you're resistin' accusin' me of," Kieran ground out. He swallowed and looked away, breathing deeply.

He needed to remain calm. This wasn't the start of a pub brawl. He couldn't help Jack from inside a police station.

"Why should I believe anything you say?" Fairchild snapped, leaning over the counter, jabbing a finger at Kieran's chest. "He's been through enough without some lying asshole fucking with him."

In that moment, Kieran saw himself in the detective, defending his sister's honor and chasing off an undeserving suitor. And how he'd taken her words the wrong way on more than one occasion. To fight it would only paint him further in guilt.

He could always send Detective Fairchild on his way with a dull memory of finding nothing. Which would be the same as letting him search the property. It would be a waste of time and energy, and another story to keep track of.

"As I said: help yourself," he said in quiet acceptance.

Kieran waited until he heard Fairchild head up the stairs in the back before dropping onto his chair and burying his head in his hands.

Jack was missing. He could enthrall Fairchild and get as much information as he could, but it would be at the risk of pushing Jack further away if he were to find out. And Jack would find out, the clever siren.

"Did something happen to you, or did you leave 'cause o' me?" he murmured.

Kieran startled at the soft sound of a business card dropping onto the counter. He warily met Fairchild's eyes.

"If you hear from him, or remember anything he might've said about going somewhere, call me."

Kieran nodded as he collected himself. "O' course," he replied. He clenched his jaw and looked away. "Of course," he repeated.

image [https://i.imgur.com/eZY0YUq.png]