Eternal [HS]

Chapter Thirty-Three

THEY REMAINED LOCKED UP IN THEIR bedroom until the sun fell and rose again.

The minutes they spent together melted into hours, which melted into a total of two days before reality came knocking and forced them to shed the idyllic daydream-like way they spent living in the aftermath of their confessions of love. More specifically, it was Mitch who came knocking at the front door at precisely seven o'clock in the morning, unable to prolong the importance of their unmade plans with Sacrosanct.

They talked about it over a cup of coffee. Well, she had coffee and they had nothing. She tried to conceal her quiet laughter when Mitch teased Harry while they thought she wasn't watching, giving him a smirk as he tugged his wrist up to expose the scar, to which Harry responded by playfully shoving him. They were still wrestling with one another on the couch, laughing and throwing sly verbal jabs, by the time she walked back downstairs with the sweater she left to get in hand.

After he left, they went back to doing mostly what they were doing before he showed up to discuss the contents of the backpack Harry came home from Elias Winston's house with after murdering him.

She unconsciously leaned closer as they talked about it and passed letters, photographs, and any personal items of significance that he could shove into the bag before escaping the house unseen.

To their frustration, there wasn't much to be found other than more of the letters between him, Issac, and "Benjamin" detailing their plans in a code none of them are any closer to cracking than they were before.

So, while they've taken out two high-ranking members, they aren't any closer to finding a third target to plan their next mission around. If they could only discover who Benjamin is now and disrupt this cult-ish organization from the very top, things would be much easier, yet...they are left with unclear messages hidden in code from Issac and Elias' personal belongings.

The breeze blows her hair back from where she sits with page after page of stolen letters stapled together in a neat packet on her lap to prevent the individual pages from fluttering away in the midday wind.

Niall and Mitch came once more, early in the morning before she woke, this time not for business or anything related to the cult of murderous vampires that will likely see them as a direct threat after they discover Elias' body, but for reasons for more lighthearted. After two months of only focusing on her and the investigation irrevocably interwoven with her, he finally made good on her suggestion to have his friends over for dinner.

Lunch, actually, if the time of day matters, but it's the same general idea. She'll never get over the fact that they sip blood from glasses like she does water or wine, either. It makes her giggle every time she looks up to find one of them talking to the other in between turns of friendly sparring matches that she couldn't be any less interested in.

It's incredibly interesting whenever Harry comes over, as exhausted as an immortal man with boundless energy and super strength can be, to plop down next to her and plant a sweet kiss on her cheek while his friends have at each other in the backyard. However, whenever he's back out there, she doesn't spare the match more than a few seconds of glancing before losing herself in these impossible letters again.

The only inkling of a clue lies in the names signed at the top and bottom of the pages, and even they aren't always truthful. Issac signed his own, as did Elias, yet this elusive Benjamin, always in quotations when signed as if to mock the intrusive listener he never intended on finding these, never gives himself up.

She's so wrapped up in them, she doesn't notice a figure sitting down in the chair next to her.

A fire blazes in the pit at the far-off corner of the yard with a set of chairs with years-old cushions tied to them for comfort. As soon as they all came outside, she made a beeline for the pit and started a fire for warmth amid the cruel, but manageable climate of this realm while they peeled off their shirts and got to fighting. It was hard for her to understand why anyone could enjoy fighting, even in a sportsman-like manner, with someone they're friends with. All she could do was shrug to herself and look back down at the packet of handwritten letters.