She kept staring at him without moving a muscle while her mind processed the information at high speed.
"Richard Harris is in my house."
Her lips froze. The absolute terror of having that man in front of her again, in the flesh, left her paralyzed. She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. And the call with Alice had dropped.
—How are you, Eleanor?
Still disoriented, Nell couldn't manage an answer. Instead, her gaze drifted down from those chapped lips forming a smile to the large, calloused hands he had-big enough to wrap around a neck and squeeze until it spasmed.
—What are you doing?—Steve surprised her from behind, and she looked at him for only a second before locking eyes back on Harris. He's waiting to be invited in. But her mind was still fighting off the stupor. She knew she had to stay calm because he was watching her.
" Breathe, Nell. Can you breathe for me?" She remembered Alice's words and closed her lips, inhaling deeply through her nose then exhaling slowly, without anyone noticing what she was doing.
—Sorry.— she replied. Hands clenched so they wouldn't tremble, and a forced smile—You surprised me.—Nell stepped aside and gestured for him to enter. She watched his foot cross the threshold of her house, her sanctuary. Her safe refuge and place of escape, carefully designed to distill normality and control. An illusion that shattered the instant this man's presence stepped inside.
There was an atmospheric shift in the air, a humming of particles that made the hair on her arms stand up. Harris looked around: scanning the foyer, the adjoining living room, the kitchen, and the staircase next to the door leading upstairs. He took a few steps and smiled.
—So this is the place, huh?—Richard marveled, still looking around—It's got character.
Nell stayed silent, watching him roam; attentive to his movements.
Steve let out a chuckle and approached to give him a friendly shoulder squeeze.
—If by character you mean damp walls and no air conditioning, then yeah.
Harris flashed a brief smile.
—But it's quiet. And the neighbors are a couple of miles away.
—That's why I bought it. — he jerked his head—Come on, let's go to the dining room.
Silently, Nell followed behind them and settled into the chair across, nervous. Her brother poured wine for himself and Richard, then left the bottle aside and uncovered the dish right in front. She didn't dare move, not even to set her phone on the table.
—I ordered food from the restaurant, hope you don't mind. —Steve made a face.
Harris smiled.
—Not at all.—He took a sip of wine, then continued—Betty's food is spectacular.
The conversation seemed so fucking normal that nobody would have guessed Richard Harris was a possible serial killer. Nell pursed her lips and looked away toward the stairs. Steven kept a gun in the dresser drawer in his bedroom; he'd shown it to her in case someone ever broke in. She racked her brains trying to remember exactly which drawer. She wondered if it was possible to invent an excuse to run upstairs and grab it, just in case...
—What about you, Eleanor?
She turned immediately when she heard him call her name. As if her intentions had been discovered.
—Sorry. I got distracted—she apologized, feigning—What were you saying?
—'What's the worst thing you've done?'— He leaned back in his chair, glass between his fingers—It's a game I usually play at church with the others. They tell me what they think was the worst thing they've done in their lives and, if they wish, we pray for God's forgiveness. But in this case, we'd just be playing.—He pointed at Steven—He confessed to stealing a reporter's press pass to attend his favorite writer's conference.—Not the terrible crime she'd expected, but at least it fit her brother. Harris paused briefly to look at her, then pointed at her—What about you? What was the worst thing you've done?
Nell shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable. It seemed like everyone, including her brother, was waiting for her answer. But maybe she could use this game to her advantage.
—I broke a neighbor's window with a baseball—she started softly—. She used to throw things at me whenever I passed by her house, so one day, I returned the gesture.—Faster than she thought possible, she fired back—What about you?—She dared to look up— What's the worst thing you've done?
He observed her with curiosity. Nell's expression had shifted brutally. Her features had hardened and her eyes seemed to be accusing him of something.
Suddenly, the house phone rang in the other room.
—Be right back. You guys continue.—Steve excused himself, moving away from the dining room until he disappeared.
They stared at each other for a second-a second that stretched too long-and the next second, Richard smiled and shook his head gently. As if he were mocking her.
—When your brother told me about you, I thought you'd be a silly, innocent girl. I see I was wrong.
She swallowed hard.
—What are you talking about?
Harris ignored her question.
—Or maybe you're just a girl. One who knows too much. —He took a sip of wine, never stopping his observation.
The comment froze her for a few seconds.
—Sorry. I don't know what you're talking about.
—Yes, you do—he assured her, still holding the glass—. Now tell me...—Tiny bubbles of saliva multiplied on his tongue and his eyes darkened—What should I do with you?
Nell felt a knot in her throat. She'd underestimated Richard Harris. Inviting him in was a mistake. Trying to play detective and interrogate him... that was a mistake. Not only was he aware that she knew his secret, but he wanted to silence her by any means necessary. And thinking that Shelly had to face this kind of guy... it made her shudder.
—Nell. — her brother caught her off guard. She hadn't heard him approach, but suddenly he was there, standing in the doorway frame—It's for you.
He meant the phone.
She looked back at the person in front of her. He seemed almost normal with that empty mask he wore. But Eleanor knew: he was something bad. Something dangerous. She knew she should run, scream. That she should grab her brother, kick the door open and call for help. But she also knew that would be useless. Neither of them would get out alive if she did. And just like with her father, words ended up manipulating her. She was rooted to the spot.
—Did you hear what I said?—Steve insisted.
She wet her lips.
"Everything will be okay, Nell" she told herself "Nothing's going to happen."
She moved one leg out from under the table, slowly. Then the other.
—Yeah.—She looked up at Steve—I'll be right back— she warned.
The creaking of wood was heard as she walked away. The phone waited off the hook on the small table next to the stairs. And she felt a twist of unease when she picked it up.
—Hello?
—Nell!— It was Alice's voice. With a particular tone; like the one mothers use when you disappear from their sight for just a moment. It was the tone of panic.
—Calm down, Alice. I'm fine— she tried to make the message as unalarming as possible. But of course, Alice didn't believe her.
—You are not fine at all. I know he's there.—There was a commotion on the other side. A conversation between several people she could barely make out—Emmett and I are heading over there.
Hearing his name made an alarm go off inside her.
—No. Please. —she begged, shaking her head—That would only complicate things even more.
—We're not going in. We'll just watch from outside.
—But...—
—You're going to be okay—she assured her with conviction.
Then the call ended.
●●●
Nell didn't get up from the table the rest of the night. Not even when Harris said goodbye with those eyes black as ink, a gaze that kept freezing her skin.
From a distance, she heard him get into his truck and start the engine. As he drove away, the noise became less perceptible, and soon silence surrounded her.
"What should I do with you?"
His words had trapped her from the moment he'd said them. She'd been paralyzed just like when she saw her father crossing the backyard with a shovel in his hand. It was like being surrounded by heavy mud. The harder you struggle to get out, the deeper you sink.
Eleanor waited another minute to make sure he was gone, then started clearing the table. She'd barely been able to eat anything after that.
—Who was that?
She turned around. Her brother's expression reflected curiosity.
—Oh. It was Alice.—She tried not to let the nervousness show. —She wanted to ask me something about school.
Steve studied her.
—Are you okay?
Nell stayed silent. Biting the inside of her cheek hard.
—My head hurts.—she finally answered, looking up—Do you mind if I go to my room?
—No. Of course not. —He shook his head and took the plates from her hands—Go, I'll handle cleaning up here.
She was too surprised that her brother let her go with such a simple excuse. Though relieved anyway. She'd lost the strength necessary to face any human being. The only thing she wanted right then was to go upstairs, lock herself in her room, and recover her composure.
She didn't want anyone to see how scared she'd been. But even though she did breathing exercises, for some reason, her body wouldn't stop trembling.
She slid down the wall and sat on the floor. Then she covered her face with her hands, making an effort not to cry. She was fighting against that same supernatural sensation that ran through her body whenever she experienced the effects of unexpected adrenaline: irregular vision, labored breathing, anxiety.
Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around her gently. Nell jumped before relaxing and sinking into the embrace.
—Easy—he whispered in her ear—I'm here.
Nell felt her eyes growing moist. She needed a moment to gather strength and respond:
—He knows, Emmett—she said in a low voice—He knows I suspect him.
—Don't worry. I'm not going to let anything happen to you.
She didn't move. It was the kind of declaration you hear in movies that sounds romantic in theory. But this wasn't theory, it was fact. Cold, hard, and inescapable. And it didn't feel romantic; it felt terrifying.
—Emmett. —she called, letting out a sigh slow enough to delay her comment—I can't let you get involved. I don't want to be a burden...
He pulled her back, distressed.
—Your life is not a burden, Nell.—he clarified harshly.
—Rosalie would disagree with you—she shot back, still not looking at his face. In the dim light, she saw him frown.
—Is this about Rosalie?
She scoffed.
—It's not just about her.—She finally looked up—What if someone gets hurt? What if Harris finds out you guys are vampires and decides to kill you?
He looked at her, suddenly amused.
—How? With garlic strips and stakes?
—Emmett!—she scolded, frustrated—This is serious. I don't want anything to happen to anyone. Especially not because of me.
He caressed her cheek with his cold fingers.
—Nell, you worry about things you shouldn't. Trust me on this: none of us are in danger. You already have too much in your head without adding all those unnecessary worries. Listen to me—he ordered, because she'd looked away again—My family is strong, and so am I. You don't have to be afraid.
Nell watched him quietly for a moment. It was impossible not to be afraid. Afraid of the future; of the unknown; of what would happen. In other words, everything that was outside her control.
Tears started welling up and Emmett pulled her to him forcefully, as if he were protecting her not only from the outside world but from herself. Several minutes passed before she calmed down and stopped crying. Her eyes were red and swollen.
—Sorry you had to see me like this—she apologized, her voice breaking, as she pulled away.
—Why? You don't always get the chance to see an angel cry. —The corners of his lips curved—Although, to be honest, I prefer it when you smile.
Instead of answering, Nell gave him a subdued smile.
Emmett stood up and offered his hand, inviting her to stand up too. Nell did. She had a lost gaze, seemed tired. But he knew her well enough to know she wouldn't be able to sleep.
—You should try to sleep— Emmett finally said.
—I don't think I can...
—Well, I have an idea—he continued, trying to pull her out of her daze—Let's just stand here and stare at each other for a while.
—I forgot that was your favorite activity— she mocked, genuinely smiling. Suddenly, she remembered something important and looked at him quickly—Where's Alice?
—Outside. I asked her to give us some privacy.
—To do what?—she questioned, raising an eyebrow.
His dimples marked a seductive gesture.
—Whatever you want.
—Then, how about you hug me again?
Quickly, she was trapped between his muscles again. Emmett pressed her against him, absorbing the warmth of her body, and noticing how she fit perfectly against his. Nell rested her head on his chest, leaning into him.
—Thanks for being here—she whispered.
—You're welcome.
—But I still hate the idea of you putting yourself in danger for me.
—And you'll keep hating me for that.—He held her by the shoulders and looked directly at her—I want to protect you, Nell.
—I know. But that's the thing. I want to protect you too.
Weeks ago, Nell would have denied it. Because denying something that happens makes it less real. But she couldn't deny it anymore. Not since she imagined in her mind all the possible ways Emmett could die defending her. So something in her had changed, had rebelled. And while she looked at him fixedly, with clenched fists and her mouth open ready to speak, knocks at the door shattered into a thousand pieces the words she had to tell him.
—Nell?—It was Steve.
Eleanor huffed and Emmett, with a smile, leaned forward to whisper to her: —See you later, my angel.—Then, as fast as unpredictable, he jumped out the bedroom window.
Frustrated, she took an unnecessary breath. She concentrated on her poker face. She was never a good liar, but it was important to appear at least neutral. And she repeated that when she opened the door with a tug.
—Oh, hey. Sorry I woke you.
—It's fine—she answered, trying to act sleepy.
—I just wanted to know how you're feeling. You've been acting weird all through dinner.
She tensed a little.
—I told you. I had a headache.
—Does it still hurt?—he wanted to know.
—A little...—she let out air slowly, trying to formulate a plan—I just need to sleep. Besides, it's been a long day and...—
—You don't like Pastor Harris, do you?
The question caught her so off guard that she couldn't hide her surprise.
—Why do you say that?—she asked, starting to invent some excuse.
—By the way you looked at him all night.
She was left speechless. When had Steve noticed that? He didn't even seem to be paying attention to her reactions; not at dinner, not in the past. So what changed? She hesitated for an instant. Had he actually been paying attention all along and she never noticed?
For a second, she didn't know what to answer. Besides a half-truth.
—He's your friend, Steve, not mine. I don't have to like him.
He smiled at her.
—Yeah, I guess you're right.
Nell waited for him to say something else. But instead, he didn't move. He just stood there, in silence, tapping his feet on the old wood, sending a vibration up her spine.
—Is everything okay?—she asked this time.
Steve remained silent until, finally, he gave her a half smile.
—Yeah, it's nothing. Like you said, it's been a long day—he commented—. I'm going to shower and then sleep. Rest well.
Nell nodded her head and watched him turn around and enter his room. Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, she felt that chill in her body again. The same one she'd felt when she saw the officer without a single scratch.
"I never cut myself with a bottle opener," he assured. "He probably mixed me up with someone else."
Something was circling around. Something she felt beyond her gift. And, for an instant, it seemed to call to her from the dim light that entered the room and moved across the floor.