He Who Weaves Nightmares | PUBLISHED (Available in Print and eBook Format)

Chapter 3 - A Time for Firsts

Chapter 3 – A Time for Firsts

Weaver

"I thought smiling with just your eyes was supposed to make you look friendlier," Markus said.

"No," I snapped at my brother. "You scared her away. Not everyone's attracted to you. She's just a child and she probably thought you were a pedophile."

Markus scowled at me. "Stop pretending you weren't gawking at her behind your ridiculous glasses. Who wears shades indoors by the way?"

I wasn't gawking. I was merely looking. Not that I'd have to explain myself.

"My eyes are red. I didn't get much sleep last night," I answered. It was the truth.

"Well, she left in a hurry," Francis remarked. "I hope it's not one of those terrible emergency calls caused by The Fates."

I inwardly cringed. Even as a god, I hated those miserable calls. I assured my brother, "She didn't get an actual call. She just needed an excuse to leave. Unlike me."

I stood up and stepped out of the café. It wasn't a surprise. My brothers knew I couldn't stand the taste and scent of caffeine. The mere trace of it kept me awake throughout the day. I simply joined my siblings for breakfast to humor Francis who was playing his role as a needy human child too well. I also didn't want to provoke the folks. If they wanted us acting—and learning something valuable from this sentence—like humans, then I would be wise to do so.

Markus' Ford Mustang was in front of the café and there were a couple of groupies drooling around the sports car. Since Markus wouldn't let me drive the pony, I got myself my own ride. I strode to my Ducati Monster which I'd parked at the side of the diner.

And no, I was not playing the part of bad boy with the big bike. Zeus, I'd hate to be pigeonholed, but the power and freedom I felt whenever I was astride the bike, riding at breakneck speed, was a close reminder of the piercing wind against my face as my wings carried me expeditiously across realms.

I wasn't headed out any tunnels though. I was off to get breakfast.

**

I found the girl trying to get settled in the tea room I frequented. I never stayed in the shop, but I always had my peppermint tea to go.

The place was smaller than Dawn's Diner and it was quaint and unremarkable from the outside. The chairs and tables were made out of wood. There were no outlets to plug in any device and no free internet. The girl would leave the moment her netbook ran out of juice. Considering how uncomfortable she looked in the cramped teahouse with its mismatched furniture and missing cushions, the girl might leave sooner.

She looked up when she heard the bell ring and she blanched when she saw me at the door. I was pretty sure she wanted to bolt (again), but it would've been awkward.

I noticed that she was trying to check if there was someone else behind me. It wasn't just a look of anxiety which she showed the second she saw me. She was searching. There was a glint of eagerness in her eyes.

It seemed my brother had reeled in another victim.

I growled at the thought.

And caught the girl flinch.

"It's just me. And I'm not staying. I'm just getting my fix before I head home," I told her, partly to let her know I came in peace and partly to start a conversation. If I thought about it, I couldn't recall ever initiating a verbal exchange since I learned to speak the mortals' language.

The girl was frowning at me then she looked around her only to find out there was no one else in the room except for us and the old man behind the counter. Had she thought I was talking to someone else?

I wanted to kick myself. I probably sounded like a defensive idiot. She was yet to respond and I was uncertain how to proceed. I was never flustered around a mortal before. In fact, I never cared much about them except that they were the recipients of my creations before my brothers and I had been banished.

I went to the counter and ordered my drink then before I could change my mind, I ambled toward the girl. Her eyes grew rounder and she clutched her bag. I bet she thought it was just not her day that day. There was a hulking psycho in front of her and she doubted the old man at the counter could protect her if I tried to snatch her.

It was interesting how I could read her mind through her incredibly expressive eyes. Or maybe it was just my imagination. It had been years since I found anything stimulating enough to move me to weave stories spontaneously.

Then she laughed. Nervously.

"I've been watching too many crime shows lately," she whispered to herself. "It's ten in the morning. Who kidnaps teenagers at this time of the day?"

I was confused. The girl was laughing yet she looked like she was about to pass out. I removed my shades and she immediately stopped laughing. She was frowning at me again.

I cleared my throat and said, "Hey, you don't have to go next time. The chairs in the other place are better padded."

I inclined my head toward her meaning to point at the wooden stool she was sitting on, but her frown turned into a dark scowl and I realized she thought I was referring to her chest. Her brows knit together as she crossed her arms over her ribcage and I wanted to hit my head with my palm.

I didn't. It was bad enough that she was looking at me as if I were a thug. She didn't need to picture me an unstable lunatic.

"Look, just write in the café. We don't bite."

I tried to smile at the girl but it came out wrong. Just like starting conversations, I couldn't remember ever smiling in my human form, not even when I was a child. I saw my reflection on the mirror behind the girl. I looked like one of the beasts I shaped in the dream world. It was just a split-second, but I hope the girl didn't catch rows of tiny sharp teeth.

She cringed and shook her head. I guessed she did.

Then I remembered how that fatuous coffee server was giving her the evil eye earlier. "And don't mind the server. She's just... envious and probably hungry, too. I don't think she eats much to maintain an illusion of sensuality."

The girl just continued frowning at me. I took that as my cue to leave. It seemed I needed to work on my conversational skills.

**

A/N: The song is Pulp's Do You Remember the First Time? And yes, they had to bleep the word.