Roots of Eden

Chapter Thirteen: The Lovers

    I was so absorbed in how I felt about Shea that I hadn't realized who had thrown the party until I got to the main dining room.

    Dr. Blake Rivers sits at the front of the dining room, toward the south wing that leads to the more scientific exhibits. Clarissa and Shea are on either side of him and the three are in a deep conversation. They don't even acknowledge the other party goers chatting about in the room or eating. Not even as I enter from the art corridors and glance around.

    Whatever they're talking about must be very important.

    Is it my place to go over and join? Even if I'm still apprehensive about being around Dr. Rivers, I have no place over there. I'm not a big name in the underground scene. I'm no one.

    And I like to keep it that way.

    Clarissa had more than once made it clear I wasn't welcome. First at the apartment and trust then when she came to get Shea. I try not to stare as I turn toward the other exhibits, winding in and out of the crowd. I briefly hear Shea's warm voice, a sarcastic and sneering tone following after. I'm sure he's annoyed with being interrupted- he always gets a bit snippy after someone does.

I take my time strolling through the corridors of the history section, meticulously reading every plaque I come across. There's nothing that catches my attention but then again, I'm not looking at something for the sake of interest.

    I don't let my guard down, either. I keep vigilant as I amble through, making sure to keep track of those around me. Conversations, if I can catch pieces of them, movement. I don't want to be caught unaware by some wanna be hunters.

If Dr. Rivers is one, he would have sent someone already. Or maybe he's trying to lull me and Shea into a sense of safety before he pounces. Or maybe Shea's right and he has nothing to do with it.

I have to trust Shea. As much as that might seem like a bad idea. He swore on his life that I could. I even bound him to those words with magic. He's not stupid enough to break the binding. So there's no reason to be so paranoid.

"I thought you said you'd be in the art corridor?" Shea's voice calls out as I'm partially through the early history of America. Pilgrims and Native American statues are set in various scenes throughout, depicting the child proof tale of thanksgiving.

"It wasn't the same without a tour guide." I half smile and turn toward him. "This however was boring enough to keep walking through."

"History isn't everyone's favorite subject." he shrugs. "Sorry about that. Business never sleeps, hm?."

"Oh?" I ask mindlessly and continue walking through as he matches my stride.

"Mhm. But I won't bore you with the details. It's even more boring than this section of the museum."

"Are you sure about that? This is pretty boring." I chuckle.

"Would you like to hear it?"

"I'm just saying I don't think anything could be more boring than this tall tale they're passing off as history."

"Allow me to bore you thoroughly then." Shea grins. "They came across some wounded fool who had gotten onto the bad side of some gangs around here. He ended up babbling when they put him under anesthesia about some secret plan they had to overthrow a different power group but I don't think they'll make it very far."

"Oh, why not?"

"Because the other group already requested information from me about this supposed attack they're planning. They're prepared to fight for what they think is theirs."