Nymphaea

Chapter 35: Drinking buddies

Two days before Christmas Eve, Stephen, Paul and Will, the friend they’d played golf with in summer, had agreed to meet up in their favourite pub and have the last relaxed evening before the great storm, so to speak. They’d done that for quite a few years, it was sort of ritualised.

Paul and Stephen entered the place at half past eight, later than they had wanted. The twins had caught chickenpox and Paul had taken them to the doctor which had taken longer than expected. Anne had encouraged them to have a nice evening afterwards, otherwise they wouldn’t have left.

When they stepped through the crowd, Stephen couldn’t help but have a strange feeling. But he couldn’t pinpoint it. Will had kept a table free for them and waved them over. They ordered something to drink and started chatting.

They emptied their first round of beer and ordered a second. Well, Will and Paul did, Stephen switched to something non-alcoholic since he’d have to drive them safely home later. The two men soon got high-spirited, joking wildly. Their companion though couldn’t fully join in. He was distracted.

If he hadn’t tried to call Ayve in vain in the afternoon, he would have thought he was close by. Stephen once again had this pressing, suffocating feeling he’d always associated with Ayve, with Ayve being filled with the kind of negative feelings that had led the blond to him this summer. Yet something felt different this time. What he sensed today had a different sort of energy. Whereas Ayve’s ‘aura’ (or whatever Stephen was supposed to call this inexplicable feeling) was filled with passive, immobile longing, the present vibration was… impatient. And less friendly. It wasn’t aggressive, hostile, but there was suppressed resentment.

Stephen’s awareness was constantly drawn to it. And not knowing what he was facing left him with an uneasy feeling, so he tried and concentrated to discern where the source to this was. He’d already managed to find the person such a feeling emanated from even over a distance of several miles after all. If the source was indeed in the pub as he believed it was (why he knew he wouldn’t have been able to tell – but then again: he wouldn’t have been able to explain the general sensation either), finding it shouldn’t be difficult.

The Scotsman shut the voices of his friends out of his mind and concentrated fully on this feeling that seemed to fill the air like the sweet, heavy fragrance of blossoms in the summer that combined with the heat could overwhelm you (only that the air in reality was filled with cigarette smoke – which could be just as overwhelming). He heard his own breath over the noises of the pub. And suddenly it was plain: Stephen only needed to look over his left shoulder if he wanted to see the emitter. Yet, suddenly his urge to do so was limited. He somehow knew he wouldn’t like the answer.

Stephen delved into the gay conversation of Will and Paul again, trying to ignore the impulse of turning around and sating his curiosity.

A few minutes later a woman brushed by him. Slim and yet ‘gifted’ where men liked it, clad in tight jeans and a simple tank top, swaying her hips seductively towards the toilet. When she came back after a few minutes, she grinned at him bluntly with her red painted lips, the lower one carrying a piercing, face surrounded by an (artificially) untidy shock of short black hair, eyes gleaming beneath their dark make up. It struck him quite suddenly: she was not human. Her movements were off, somehow. They were too smooth. She passed him, returning to her table, or so Stephen supposed. He wasn’t looking on.

It was obvious that she was no nymph either. She was too tall for that and her whole appearance was completely untypical. And Stephen was certain that she wasn’t the one he had sensed. Counting all that together this meant there were at least two specimen of Ayve’s genitor’s kind sitting somewhere in the pub behind him.

The two tipsy men at his table started making jokes about Stephen still earning the most looks from women. The waitress crossed the room with a laden tray – two beers, two non-alcoholic drinks – in the direction Stephen presumed the centre of his attention was sitting with that woman. Spontaneously he turned his head and peeped over his shoulder.

There were four people seated at the table: the black-haired woman sat beside a tall, sturdy man with naturally red hair cut short who seemed to enjoy himself. The two of them were served the beer. The rosy-cheeked man faced a woman with dark brown hair who sat with her back to Stephen. Next to her, half hidden from view by the waitress, sat another man. Nearly as tall as the other but much more athletic and noticeably different dressed. Whereas the couple – from the way they interacted Stephen assumed the two short haired people were lovers – had dressed down, this man was wearing more formal clothing. Not a business suit or anything like that but well tailored black garment that fitted his black, shoulder-length hair that was strictly tied back.

Instinctively, Stephen knew that was his man. And the same instincts told him to stay away from him. A cold chill ran down his back and uneasiness settled in his stomach. When the waitress left the table and gave free the view on the man’s profile, Stephen’s foreboding was confirmed: there sat his murderer.

Who would believe a person acting as cultivated as he presently did was lingering in lonesome alleyways at night, attacking people? Legs leisurely crossed, fingers elegantly playing with the non-alcoholic drink in front of him, a prominent ring gleaming on his hand – he didn’t seem like a person to lose control. And Stephen didn’t believe he had. That guy had acted solely out of expedience. Just as he had used Ayve’s inexperience to his advantage in their youth. Stephen was totally convinced of that. This Pheus had fooled Ayve, had made him believe what Ayve wanted to believe, it was as easy as that.

Stephen returned his gaze to his own table in order not to raise any attention. He listened to the nonsense his friends made up and chipped in an own anecdote, to maintain the pretence of taking part in their conversation.

Why was that guy here anyway? Hadn’t Ayve said he detested humans and everything related to them? What would lead him into a smoke-filled and crowded pub? And who were the people he was conversing with?

Stephen glanced over his shoulder once more. That other woman bore a certain resemblance to him in her appearance. Her face looked kinder when she turned to look at Pheus so that Stephen could see parts of it but her general looks were similarly… proud, determined. The couple on the other hand seemed the absolute opposite. They seemed to approach life much more lightly. And yet the four of them sat together companionably and at least three of them seemed to have a good time.

The target of Stephen’s ill-humour on the other hand seemed to be in an equally bad mood. He looked daggers at the other male at the table as if to say ‘why did you drag me here?’ Stephen indulged himself in the amusing thought of this guy spending a very unpleasant evening – until the redhead locked eyes with him, a good-natured grin in his face, and twinkled at him. His ill-tempered companion tried to kill him by glowering at the sturdy man. So they knew he was here. And knew he was aware of them. He knew Stephen was close by. Stephen suddenly wished he’d had a second beer as well. He breathed in deeply to keep his heartbeat in check.

Where they here on purpose? Was that smile of the guy just a mask, a means of giving him a false sense of security? Had Pheus rounded up some of his ‘friends’ to finally get rid of Stephen now that Ayve was away? Would he survive a second assault?

His friends suggested spending the rest of the evening in the snooker club where they often used to practice and had a table at the ready. “Or do you want to stare at her some more? I really should tell a certain someone…,” Paul mockingly threatened, misinterpreting Stephen’s behaviour.

Stephen pondered: was he endangering his friends by leaving the safety of the crowded pub in their company? Or wasn’t it better to leave first so they couldn’t await them outside?

But if his fear was justified, why had they not acted already? Ayve had said he could have sex in public without anybody taking notice so surely it was also possible to kill someone without catching attention, right? Ayve had narrated that his ‘uncle’ (former lover was more suiting) had been appointed his father’s (Ayve’s grandfather’s) successor because he was the most talented of his descendants. Surely he was able to influence minds?

The whole thing didn’t make sense! Was he only here to intimidate Stephen? But why bring the others, then? And why didn’t this Pheus turn and glare at him then instead of glaring at his companion? Was his smile genuine? Had they truly met accidentally and the guy wanted to show Stephen that he had nothing to worry about? That thought was comforting.

“Stephen?” Paul asked with raised eyebrows. The blond got up as a sign of agreement.

They left the pub after paying their drinks and Stephen enjoyed the fresh air. Throwing glances back over his shoulder, he followed his friends down the street.

“You’re kinda nervous tonight. Still not over what’s happened this summer?” Will remarked. “Has the police found out anything, by the way?”

Stephen swallowed the cynical smile that tried to invade his face and buried his cold hands in his mantle pockets. “No, they have no idea who it was or why.”

–“That sucks. No wonder you’re still nervous.”

They made their way to the club without being followed and got home safely afterwards.

***

End of Part IV

Comments, critical annotations and suggestions are welcome.