Cult

12: Investigation Ω

Sonya narrows her eyes at Harry as though sending him a warning. He merely winks at me. Thankfully, Zayn doesn't notice and he takes me hand, leading me to the stage. My heart climbs up into my throat and throbs, beating faster and faster. I hate public speaking. Just standing by the podium is terrifying.

Zayn whispers something in Sonya's ear. She nods and hands him something in a small box before watching him carefully, as though she doesn't trust him.

What was that about?

A young man with fuzzy dark brown stubble—too short to be a beard—and equally as warm brown eyes smiles at me. He too has a mask on, but he is standing close enough for me to see his face clearly. His plump lips curl into a shy smile.

"Something to drink, miss?" he asks with an English accent. His accent is similar to Harry's, but it's slightly stronger. Harry talks a bit slowly and lets his words drag. This man is sharp.

He is holding a tray with glasses of wine. I suppress the urge to laugh. He doesn't sincerely think I'm old enough to drink, does he?

The wine of Communion is one thing, it is part of the Catholic churches' procedure, but actual wine, to drink for fun...I shake my head. I'd like to stay as far away from alcohol as possible. I want to be in control of my body.

Zayn takes a glass and nods at the man. Then he takes a glass for me. What?

"Just have a sip, Kat. You need to loosen up, baby," he tells me in my ear. I grit my jaw.

"I feel perfectly fine, thank you very much," I say. But Zayn holds the glass to me.

"Tastes like...cherries," he says under his breath. His eyes gaze down at my dress, hovering at my legs. 

Zayn makes a popping noise with his finger in his cheek and I laugh slightly. He laughs a bit harder, seeing as I've failed to understand what he's hinting at.

I look down at the red wine and take a sip.  My eyes meet Zayn's. Suddenly, I know exactly what he was referring to and I flush in embarrassment. 

"Ladies and gentleman, Mr. Robbie Von Dette!" Father McCarthy introduces. Dear God.

My father begins his speech after he shakes Zayn's hand and kisses my cheek.  I glare at him. Has he been milking me these past few days just to take my innocence? Because if that's the case, I'm done with him and I'm done with Harry. He can go find another victim. I won't be another statistic for the police to report.

"I've been the mayor of this town since my little girl was eight, doodling in her science notebooks and shaking her head of wild red curls," he says with a smile at me. I blush in embarrassment. I don't think the crowd needs a mental image of me as a child.

Zayn kisses my cheek and toys with a strand of my hair on my shoulder. He looks down at my necklace and smirks as though he has won something. I ignore him and gaze out at the crowd, spotting Harry standing near the very back. One of the waiters asks him to put put his cigarette, but he takes a longer drag. The rest of the audience has walked up closer to the stage, circling around it. I squint, wishing I had brought my glasses from home. 

Despite my poor eye sight, I am able to make out a young blonde woman in the crowd, seated with my dad's other friends. It's Sienna. She is watching my father, her pale blue eyes glued on him as though he is some kind of hero. I sigh in annoyance.

Zayn doesn't notice and continues listening to my dad's speech while I tune him out. I do catch him nodding at Zayn and I a few times. Zayn's father peaks his head from the crowd. He is seated with Sienna and my dad's coworkers. Doesn't Sienna have somewhere to be? Like a sorority party?