Menagerie

Chapter 12 - Penny

I walked out of the room and headed for the nearest stairwell. If he had only taken elevators, it would be impossible to track him to his floor and I would have to check them one by one. Still, as I determined that he wasn't in one stairwell after the next, my steps growing faster and more agitated all the while, I wondered whether it would have been more efficient to just pick a floor at random and start there.

The sixth stairwell I checked had his scent in it, though, and any doubts – or any sense of rationality at all – flew from my mind. Since I had started out on the second floor, up was a safe bet. I jogged up the staircase until I reached the fourth floor and the scent trail led to the door instead of up another set of stairs. My heart was pounding hard enough that I could hear its beat and feel my pulse throbbing in my fingertips. Whether that was from the exercise or from tracking Owen, I couldn't have said. All I knew was that I needed to turn left.

My steps didn't falter all down the hallway and my feet ground me to a halt outside of a door on the right side. I would have preferred to take a moment to collect myself and to catch my breath, but instead I watched with a detached curiosity as my own hand reached up and knocked on the door. Footsteps approached from the other side and I realized for the first time that Owen might not be alone. He had come to town with friends, after all. Someone had driven him away from that arcade tonight.

And even if Owen was alone, would he want to see me? I was sure he knew even now that I was the one on the other side of the door. Why wasn't it open yet?

The door flung open and a brunet man stood on the other side – someone other than Owen. I looked behind him and saw that Owen was on one of the beds, pinned down by a third man whose face was blotchy red with the effort it took to hold Owen down.

My feet were rooted in place. I didn't know what to make of the scene before me, so I was hesitant to move forward, but no way could I turn back now, either. I looked up at the man who had opened the door, who looked like he was braced for a physical confrontation too. I realized he was waiting for me to lose control of myself. He had no way of knowing how easy it was to be here with Owen now that I wasn't fighting the pull. Oh, it wasn't easy to stand here in the same room as him, motionless, but neutrality was worlds away from what it had been like to fight against his draw.

"I'm okay," I assured the brunet.

He looked doubtful, and when I took a cautious step into the room, he stuck out an arm to stop me. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

My stomach sank and I realized it was possible I had messed this up before it could begin. Maybe Owen had been put off by my indecisiveness. I couldn't blame him if that was the case, but even thinking of it made my stomach cramp with unease. "I'm here to see Owen." What else could I be there for?

"He told us about you," the man replied. "You had people forcibly remove you from him. Why show up now, when Owen isn't prepared to control himself? Have you thought of him at all in this?"

I wanted to sink into the floor and never be seen again. How could a stranger make me feel so small? And shouldn't I be having this conversation with Owen, rather than this stranger? I darted another glance at Owen, where he still struggled on the bed. The fact that he was being held down only seemed to agitate him further. "Should I go?"

The man glanced at Owen and seemed completely baffled by the situation he found himself in. "That might be best."

"No!" Owen said, and he fought the man holding him down even harder, bucking and grappling until with a great upward twist, he tore away from his opponent and darted off the bed. He almost made it to me before his friend recovered and tackled him from behind. His two friends were able to wrangle him so that he stood shackled by one and held back by the other, staring at me and breathing hard. His eyes were flashing amber and I knew he was all but lost to his instincts.