Devil's Plaything

Thirty Seconds

            Charlie did not as much as blink as she held the gun steady with both hands. Sam, however, seemed like he was in shock. His gaze darted back and forth between Charlie and Noah, as if he didn't know which person to find more threatening. Mira wasn't sure either. Noah's grip on her had tightened and Mira felt like she had to say something, anything. But she couldn't. She had never been in the little middle a confrontation involving guns and she wasn't sure if saying the wrong thing would set someone off.

"You want to put the gun down," Noah said. If Mira had been less familiar with him, she may have thought his tone was casual. But she could sense the way his intonation had changed and his voice had deepened. She felt the rumbling of his chest as she spoke, his words were laced with force that caused them to reverberate throughout the small, dark room.

Charlie's expression stayed the same, but Mira noticed that the gun in her hands was quivering slightly. "You might want to put my friend down," she countered.

"Why doesn't everyone put everything down?" Sam asked, his voice breaking. Neither Charlie nor Noah looked at him. Sam fished through his pocket for a moment and pulled out a miniature pocket knife before placing it slowly on the floor. He then saw that Charlie or Noah hadn't followed in his footsteps and he picked it back up. "We don't need to make this any worse, let's be smart about this."

"If you shoot me, I will kill you," Noah promised. Mira felt the room's temperature drop as he spoke. "It's not worth being a martyr over something that's not your business. Mira can tell you all about that."

Behind the fear, Mira felt her irritation rise. How dare he threaten her friend and then talk about her like she served as a warning sign to others. "Put me down," she said. She didn't care how dizzy she still felt, she didn't want to depend on him for anything now. He glanced down at her finally, as if remembering she was still there. He seemed to think it over for a bit, then he carefully lowered her so that she could stand. He handled her with a gentleness that countered his tone. "I'm down now," she told Charlie, reaching a hand to her slowly. "Let's just go."

"She wants her soul back, too," Charlie said, staring directly past Mira.

Noah flashed his teeth. He look like a predator now, calculating and challenging. "Or I could kill you now. I don't need more trouble." He took a step forward and Charlie's hand began trembling.

"I don't want to do this," she told him. Noah stepped again and Mira tried to shove him to no avail.

Mira felt her pulse speed. "Noah, stop."

"Go ahead," he said with a smile. He took another step. "See what—." Charlie's gun went off. Mira's heart stopped, her blood turned cold.

It was her imagination, she told herself. Or this was a dream. This all was a dream. The last few weeks had been a dream, too. All she had to do was convince herself and she would wake up.

Noah's knees hit the floor. The sound made her breath quiver. His expression morphed into one of pain and Mira felt as if she could feel his agony herself. As if she too had been shot. She distantly heard Sam shouting, but his words might as well have been gibberish. She moved towards Noah and she tried to lace together a string of words to explain what was going on to herself, but she couldn't.

He was lying on the floor now and she moved his head onto her lap. She stroked his hair back from his face and he looked at her. It felt strangely natural for her to hold him like this, as if they weren't on opposing ends and he wasn't bleeding. Something warm in his gaze mingled with the pain. She didn't know what it was, but his eyes were beautiful. He was beautiful.