Chomp
Chapter 28: Blue

I was surprised to find the door unlocked.

It was unheard of for Darius to be so careless, especially with safety, though I suspected my deplorable behaviour had awoken much more than recklessness in him.

Walking home had been a blur—I was far too distracted by the fact that my marriage had been ruined and over before it had barely begun. How could I have been so stupid—so selfish? It was an action expected from some girl in high school with poor self-esteem or someone who wanted to be popular, but I was neither of those anymore.

“Darius?” I called out weakly, closing the door behind me.

There he was—my heart nearly broke when I saw him.

He was sitting with his legs sprawled out on the couch, reading some novel or another wordlessly. His face was set in its usual emotionless—no, wait. I blinked.

“Agnes,” he said softly, getting to his feet.

His face wasn’t anything what I had expected it to be as he glanced up over the book. His normally sharp blue eyes were soft and comforting, though his lips were drawn in a bit of a frown. Whatever this expression was, it certainly wasn’t the anger that I had been expecting, that I most certainly deserved from him.

“H-Hey… I just…” I began, unsure I even deserved to explain myself. Still, he needed to know I wasn’t going to be begging for forgiveness like some sort of slug. “I just came to clear my stuff out, like you asked…”

He sighed and placed the book on the coffee table before getting to his feet. I looked away—I had to. I might have been able to look him in the eye when he was just suspicious, but not now. “You don’t have to do that.”

The breath caught in my throat. “E-Excuse me?”

Darius walked over until he was a mere foot from me. Grabbing my chin firmly in his hand, he forced me to look into his eyes. “Look, both of us have really neglected this relationship, and it wasn’t fair for me to come down on you so hard like that. I’ve probably been home twice since we’ve tied the knot, so whether or not you’ve cheated—I don’t care. I mean, I do. But I don’t deserve to at this point.”

My face was flushed, and my eyes stung as my breath threatened to cave my chest in. This couldn’t be happening. “Y-You do, though. You have every right to be angry. I—”

“Shh.” He placed a finger on my lips before pecking me gently. “No, I don’t. However, moving forward… Do you think we can both make a conscious effort to change this whole thing?”

I didn’t know what to say.

Whatever I had expected from seeing Darius, it wasn’t this. His tone was completely different from how it had been on the phone, and it was almost like it was a completely different husband I was speaking to.

My sigh of relief twisted into a train-wreck of a sob and laugh, but it was the best I could do under the circumstances. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling myself to him. His arms found their way to the small of my back, gently caressing me as he planted his lips on my head.

“I love you,” I whispered, my voice muffled by his sweater. “I’m so, so, so sorry…”

“I know. And I’m sorry too.” He pulled me away from him slightly so he could get a better look at my face. “And I know how hard it was to stay home all day, so I pulled some strings and got you something working at the Organization again.”

I pulled away from him even more, studying his face. It was back to its serious expression, his eyes intense as usual.

“…Really?”

“Yes. Though that means you’d have to quit the—”

“Of course,” I replied, nodding fervently. “I’ll hand in my resignation right away.” It was a simple request, and certainly well-deserved. And as much as I wanted to tell myself sleeping with Adrian was a one-time thing, I didn’t trust myself around him to keep it that way.

Darius nodded, brushing a wayward curl behind my ear. He then kissed my forehead softly. “I’ll drop it off for you. Write it up tonight, and I’ll go tomorrow morning.”

It sounded reasonable, so I nodded my head in agreement. After all, the less contact I had with Adrian, the better. I couldn’t explain why, but the mere thought of him made me regret leaving. This morning, his faltered smile and torn heart made it almost impossible not to stay; as odd as it sounded, I was actually thankful he got angry at me.

If this marriage—my life, more accurately—was to be successful, I couldn’t go around sleeping with the first guy who was nice to me, after all.

But it was more than that with Adrian. There was something about him; sure, he was sweet, but he was also sexy in his own dorky little—

No.

I shook the thought from my head. No. He needed to be the very last thing on my mind—no matter how good he was last night.

The best thing for my husband and I was to amend, to plan ahead and put things in place to ensure we both upheld what we could to actually make this marriage work.

For Darius, it was making time to be home, to spend time with me, and, of course, making dinner every night he could. He had even picked up a couple of cookbooks beforehand that he suggested we both use as a way to spend time together.

For me, it was taking the job that he offered and not looking back on my mistake.

The job that Darius had worked out for me certainly was in the Organization, but it was definitely the last thing I would have expected.

While I was thankful he got me something to do, I had been expecting something like teaching new soldiers, setting up training, or even basic missions with new recruits. Instead, I was reduced to being some glorified lunch lady.

Glorified might have been the wrong term for it, though. Where I had been comfortable in my tight leather and Kevlar uniform, the uniform I was reduced to wearing left me without much dignity.

Someone should have told the head of the Organization—or whoever the fuck was in charge of uniforms—that belts were not meant to be worn as skirts. Granted, as someone with a larger keister than average, the look might have been fine on other people with fewer dramatic curves. Regardless, I pulled the black pleather bullshit of a skirt down with every opportunity I could manage without tripping over the idiotically high pumps they made me wear. Whoever decided this was the most logical outfit for serving food to soldiers and ministers needed to be castrated, gutted, and then hanged.

Don’t even get me started on the blouse.

“Take a look at that one, Sanchez!” one of the soldiers called to his buddy from across the hall as I walked by with the trolley. I felt a certain sense of comradery with the puddings that bounced around when I drove it over bumps.

Sanchez whipped around, snatching a long and hard stare. “Sheesh—looks like she’s been stealing cantaloupes from the lunch room! Hey Mamasita! Where you headed?”

“Well,” I began with a false sweetness in my voice. I stopped the trolley and whipped around to face him. “First I was thinking of heading over in your direction.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” I continued, walking over to him. “I wanted to inquire about… nuts.”

Bemusement crossed Sanchez’s face. “Nuts?”

“Well yeah, of course. I hope you’re not allergic, ’cause I’m going to kick yours so far up your own fucking ass you choke on them and die.”

He stumbled backward, no doubt a little taken aback. “Okay, okay. Jesus.”

“Have a little respect for others,” I snapped, crossing my arms. It probably didn’t help the situation much. “Cunts.”

With that, I stormed away, not caring that the pudding flopped around precariously on its plate.

I made my way to the conference hall, more than my fair share of miffed. It wasn’t the first time someone had made a comment, and I would be wholly surprised if it was the last. Before I passed through the swinging doors of the hall, I tried to adjust my blouse so there was more left to the imagination.

The crowd’s voices instantly hit me as I walked through the door. I was surprised to see so many people—civilians, no less—lined up to speak to people at a booth. Several armed guards stood by at all the doors, and there were six by the booth.

“What’s going on here, anyway?” I asked one of the guards beside me.

He squinted his eyes at me, then looked at the trolley, and back to me, his confusion cleared up. “Mandated blood testing.”

“I didn’t hear about that,” I replied, mildly shocked.

The guard nodded. “We find there are better results when there isn’t a lot of notice. Catching people by surprise seems to weed them out faster. We’ve gathered people up from what we’ve dubbed Section Q—the section of the island between 42nd Street and 72nd.”

“Any bites?” The pun was a bit embarrassing, though unintentional, but he didn’t seem to pick up on it.

“Twelve today.”

“Impressive.”

“Very. Norouzi’s the best thing that’s happened to this organization, I swear.”

My chest swelled with pride, and I couldn’t help but grin. “He is pretty amazing, isn’t he?”

The grunt in return was not what I had been expecting. Well, fine then.

I pushed my trolley further into the room, making my way through the long line that snaked around and around with impatient people of every shape and size. Though many people swore up and down that vampires were able to be visually detected right off the bat, the opposite couldn’t be more true. Sure, there were clues—like sniffing the air, light sensitivity when they were newly changed, and bad skin when they hadn’t fed—but they really could be anyone, of any race and at almost any age.

I pushed the puddings toward the long table lined with at least fifteen Organization workers. No doubt, our accounts payable and receivable departments were a little emptier than usual as these resources were here.

As I approached the one closest to me, ready to set the food down, my breath caught in my chest. Adrian stood before her, his sleeve rolled up for the woman’s examination. He watched, unflinching as she pressed a needle into the crook of his elbow and drew a full needle-full of dark red blood.

“Name?” the woman asked while another attendant placed the blood in some sort of machine. She had some sort of southern drawl, unexpected for the area.

“Adrian Bordeaux.”

“Middle name?”

“No—just Adrian.”

“Address?”

“4117 East 53rd Street, unit twelve.”

“Place of business?”

“The same address, just above the unit. It’s sort of a combination of a café and a bookshop that—”

The woman’s head snapped up to look at him. “I didn’t ask what it was,” she snarled, her lip curling. “I asked for the address.”

“Sorry.”

Simply a delightful old crone.

“How many in the apartment?”

“Just myself.”

Midway-through reaching for the wiggling pudding on a plate, I stopped. It was definitely Adrian’s voice. But why would he lie about Izzie?

“His blood tested negative,” the crone’s attendant whispered to her. She nodded slowly, her beady eyes narrowed at him. “Move along. Next!”

Adrian stepped away, turning toward the guards. He was ushered through the doors where the humans were allowed to go back out. I dropped the plate of pudding hastily beside the crone, and it clattered loudly.

“Watch what you’re doing,” she snarled disgustedly. I would have said her lips curled again, but I was beginning to think that that might have just been the way her face was. She was probably a hideous baby, too.

“Yeah, fuck you too, sister.”

Leaving the trolley where it was, I chased after him—as best I could, considering the heels. He had managed to get all the way out onto the outdoor steps before I caught up with him.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

He turned to face me, and I instantly regretted coming after him. His soft, gold eyes seemed to strike me where I stood.

“Oh… Hi, Agnes.” His tone wasn’t resentful or angry—of course it wasn’t; Adrian wasn’t that type of person. His expression only changed when his eyes dropped to my uniform. “What are you wear—?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Okay then, I won’t. I was just heading home; I’d offer for you to come with me, but I know your husband would probably have something to say about that. I don’t want you getting in trouble.”

What was I, a seven-year-old? Getting in trouble for walking with someone wasn’t something I needed to worry about. But even as the urge to argue crossed my mind though, I knew he was right.

I shifted awkwardly on the concrete step. “So about that…”

“It’s fine,” he answered, forcing a weak smile. It was like tearing another hole in my chest. “It’s probably for the best anyway; it was bad for the both of us. I don’t think Darius or Izzie need that in their lives.”

About that…

I cleared my throat. “Why did you lie to the lady at the desk back there?”

He studied my face wordlessly, long, and hard, his eyes bounding back and forth between each of mine. “It’s… complicated. Besides, there’s really nothing that would come of it either way if they knew about Izzie or not.”

“If that’s the case,” I pressed, stepping forward, “Why did you lie? You’re not embarrassed to have her out in public… are you?”

His lips pulled tightly. “It’s nothing like that. You just wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“We’re not having this conversation,” he snapped, whipping around hastily. The action caught me off-guard, and I stumbled forward. “If you want it investigated, you’re only a few feet from the door. You can turn right back around and tell them you think I’m some criminal if you want. But until they pull me aside, I’m going home.”

Was this all just about what happened between us?

A thick lump formed in my throat. I hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with apologies, but I was sure he knew how I felt. “A-Adrian…” I called, reaching out to him.

My hand wasn’t even an inch from his shoulder one second, then feet away the next. I stumbled, feeling my eyes glazing over again. A sharp ringing ripped through my ears, and the next thing I knew, I had hit the ground.

I felt the scraping of tearing skin on my one cheek and arm as my body slid down a concrete step or two.

“Agnes!”

Adrian’s voice was muddled through the ringing, like I was hearing it from underwater. I felt his firm hands around my shoulders; he must have flipped me onto my back, because his face swam into view. All I could focus on were his wide, worried eyes.

“S-Sorry,” I choked out, the lump in my throat throbbing. “It’s… Allergies like last time, but I—”

My words were cut short as I felt bile rising in my throat. Before I knew what had happened, I was spewing out some sort of black liquid onto the front of his shirt. Slack-jawed, I wiped what I could from my mouth and his shirt. “Just allergies…”

His eyes narrowed as he looked me over. He wiped a thumb in my dark vomit and rubbed it between his fingers. “I don’t… think so…”

It was the last thing I heard before everything went dark.

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