Persona (23 page)

“Shut up!”

He doesn’t take him eyes of the screen as he yells at them, and the noise ceases from them before he utters the last syllable. He can hear them sit up in their fast movements and knows they are eyeing the screen now with him. So he turns up the volume louder and he can finally hear what they are saying about Moira.

“
I repeat, this young woman is a newly infected individual. She left the hospital where she was receiving treatment in upstate New York.”

The man in a dark suit on the screen that looks like plastic holds up a copy of the image at the right of the screen and the camera zooms in as he continues.

“
She is very mentally unstable and dangerous. She was caught for infecting innocent people, and fled when she was getting treatment. Be on alert for her, she is deadly.”

The camera zooms out again, and the news caster goes on to talking about something else. The image of Moira fades from the right corner of the screen. Liam is just staring at the television in shock, when he senses Moira’s apple scent behind him. It causes him to flinch, and regret that he didn’t notice it sooner. No doubt she saw what was on the television about her, shoulders tense he turns around.

Sure enough, she is standing wide eyed in jeans a sweatshirt, right behind the recliner he is in. Raven and Daisy are flocked on either side of her, and the three of them are still watching the television that is no longer telling anything important.

He knows Moira is upset when he can feel her persona, as if it was his own trying to break free. Apple spice fills his senses as her eyes go from hazel to a deep emerald, and makes his mouth water distracting him for a moment. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he turns and clicks off the television. The room is plunged into silence and still no one makes a move to do or say anything. Daisy and Raven move though, and are both watching Moira, almost expecting her to flip. To be honest, so is Liam.

He is about to get up and go to her, and try make her see this not as a problem to worry about, but he doesn’t get the chance. Marty beats him to it. The other boy quickly gets to his feet and paces over to Moira and blocks her vision of the blank television. Her eyes lift up to his, and Liam can actually taste her confliction on the back of his tongue. She starts to shake slightly and as her eyes water, Marty swiftly pull her to him. She clings to him and closes her eyes. As she does, Liam can feel her persona sliding away softly and her apple scent fades away along with it.

Clenching his hands in his lap, he doesn’t know what bothers him more. The fact that this is happening to her or that she turns to Marty and not him. He mentally bitch claps himself for thinking that. He knows he has no claim to Moira. Hell, the girl doesn’t even like him, he thinks to himself. As the rest of their little rag tag group migrate to her and offer their own form of comfort, Liam finally gets to his feet.

His shoulders are like a bulk of tension that holds him too tightly, and he can now feel his persona again, rather than hers. Walking past the others, and her, he avoids looking at them and figures now, is a good time to have another talk with Dave.

He was planning to just leave the room without saying anything, but as he passes Moira, he can scent her again. This makes his pause mid step and turn to her. Her emerald eyes are open now and watching him through the arms of her friends. His breathing picks up, and apple spice flows around him like a current. Gritting his teeth in an effort to control his persona, he steps up closer to her without meaning to.

“I’ll take care of this, I swear to you.”

As soon as the last word slips through his clenched lips, he turns away out of the room. With every step he takes, he can feel her eyes on him, and it sends chills on his spine. He really hopes he didn’t just lie to her, but Liam has the feeling he did. After all, what can he really do? It’s his parents with all the control and power with the pack and contacts. Not him, but maybe it’s time he steps up.

Once he is at the doorway of Dave’s brightly lit office, he knows the man knows about the news broadcast. This is confirmed when he slams down a phone receiver back to its cradle in frustration. He turns to Liam then, and gives him an apologetic look and waves him to come in.

“It seems that it’s going to take longer for the passports than I first thought. There is a pesky little rumor out there about your friend. Looks like you might have to stay the night, paperwork doesn’t arrive till morning.”

Liam sits down in a rickety old chair that faces Dave’s wooden desk, and all he can do is worry about Moira’s feelings and not about the fact that their plans have come to a screeching halt. At least he can’t feel her anymore now that he is in the office, he’ll take any bonus he can right now, he thinks with a shake of the head.

***

Lying on an uncomfortable cot, Moira is supposed to be asleep, but she can’t. Too many things are wandering into her thoughts, for her to even attempt to relax enough for sleep. She can’t help to feel responsible for the fact that they had to stay at the Steven’s house for the entire day. Most of that time, she couldn’t stop herself from watching that same news channel and seeing her picture over a dozen times.

Each time would bother her just as much as the first time, but she never looked away. The others would tell her every time she looked upset, that nothing is her fault, and shouldn’t let it bother her. Knowing they are right, doesn’t seem to stop the feelings from surfacing though.

Rolling over for the hundredth time, Moira tries to get comfortable again. She is facing the bed now, and it would seem that Raven and Daisy aren’t having a hard time like she is, to sleep. The girls had been snoring as soon as theirs heads touched their pillows, much to Moira’s dismay, of course. Letting out a heaving quiet sigh, she sits up, finally having enough. Not being able to take having to lay down for this long and not able to sleep, she thinks now is a good time for a drink of some kind.

As quiet and stealthy as she can, Moira makes her way to the closed door in the dark room. She holds her breath when she pulls it open, and keeps peaking at the sleep girls, afraid of waking them. Once safely out in the hall with the door closed behind her, she makes her way to the kitchen.

The room she is in is strategically placed in a corner hallway, which is only past a small parlor to the kitchen. She thinks to herself that architecture isn’t really her thing, but if she were to design this house, she wouldn’t put the bedrooms near the kitchen. Not having far to walk though, she quickly changes her mind. From around the corner of the kitchen, a light glows from the entrance and peaks into the parlor that Moira is standing in.

This brings her to a stop, and she remembers the last time she woke up in the middle of the night and crept around a dark unfamiliar house. That’s when she picks up on the scent of cinnamon, and she realizes that Liam must be the one in the kitchen now. Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the way his scent invades her senses, Moira takes the final step into the kitchen before she can change her mind.

He looks up from his post sitting on a stool at the island counter, but he doesn’t seem all that surprised that it’s her that walks in. Moira thinks that he must have picked up her scent like he did her, weird and a little icky.

She comes to a stop behind the stool opposite him, and they just stare at each other, waiting for something. What, Moira doesn’t know. All she does know is that the longer she stands there like this, the more she can smell cinnamon. It travels along her skin like a light breeze, and tickles her persona to life. She can feel her eyes change, and the room becomes brighter and Liam becomes clearer. His eyes go large at seeing hers shift, and she has to work at it to rein her persona back in.

Ever since she was able to use it back at the farm the day before, it has been acting all wonky. Moira wonders if it has something to do with what Fletcher did to her. Unfortunately, he is the only person to ask and she certainly isn’t going to call him with questions.

When neither of them says anything, and don’t bother to stop staring at the other, Moira feels uncomfortable. She hasn’t exactly been the friendliest to Liam, and it doesn’t help that she reacts to him like a moth to a flame. He lowers his eyes then, and clears his throat, before glancing back at her. She notices then, that the cinnamon scent of him is fading slightly. This makes her curious if the smell is related to their persona. She could ask him, but again, she feels so hesitant to make the first move. She is after all, the one who is mad at him and feels like he should apologize or something. It doesn’t make sense she knows, anger usually doesn’t.

His eyes flash violet suddenly and her breath catches in her throat. Turning away he makes a move to stand up, and Moira finally pulls the stool out so she can sit.

“Don’t leave on my account. Please.”

She sits down by the time she finishes, and he freezes in mid move. He is the one to look hesitant now, but then he sits back down and faces her again. His eyes are back to their normal grey color, and he fiddles with a cup of water, that she didn’t notice before. The she realizes that isn’t the only thing she hadn’t notice earlier either. Liam isn’t wearing a shirt.

She can feel her cheek heat up in a blush, and she ducks her head down behind a curtain of her long strawberry blonde hair. It doesn’t offer any shielding for her though, and when he smirks, she avoids looking at him completely. She is just relieved that she is wearing the same thing as earlier. She thinks about how embarrassing it would be for him to see her in her sleep attire. Which isn’t much these days, she knows.

Clearing her throat softly, she brings her eyes back to him. He looks like he is about to say something, but she interrupts him. Otherwise, she’ll never gain the courage to ask.

“So, what is this pack business about? It has a mob feel to it, which honestly seems weird.”

Liam chuckles softly, and leans forward across the counter to her.

“You kind of right in your assumption Mo, we are somewhat like the mob. Less violent though and not as much money.”

Nodding, she kind of figured he wouldn’t really elaborate looks like she’ll have to push the issue.

“Is everyone like us apart of it? Or is it like a secret society?”

The corner of his lips lifts up into a smirk and his eyes shine with laughter. Moira swears if he was wearing a shirt, she would totally wipe that smirk off his face. But he is shirtless, and it makes her blush knowing that it makes him look good.

“More like a school phone tree calling list, in case of an emergency. We are all aware of one another, well the ones that keep in touch, and are there for one another.”

“Oh.”

Moira leans across the table to him now, and she can almost pick up on his cinnamon scent. It sends chills over her exposed skin, which thankfully there isn’t a lot of. Lowering her eyes from his she knows that now is as good a time as any, to ask what has been bothering her for some time.

Looking back at him, she wonders if he’ll still be smiling at her, when she is finished, or if she will be for that matter.

“Why did you go to my father after I got taken?”

At an intake of breath, his eyes go wide and flash violet before going back to his original color.

“Mo, you know I was there for pack business about the bill.”
“Yes, but why did you go to my father for help, if you have been spying on him?”

Sighing, Liam leans back from her and when he crosses his arm, she has to ignore the way his muscles bulge together from the new position.

“I was only in town and at your school, for Intel on the bill from your father. It was all a ruse, so that I wouldn’t seem suspicious. I told you I didn’t know about you at the beginning.”

Moira shakes her head and glares at him. This isn’t what she asked him. Why is he dodging the answer, she wonders, is he keeping something from her?

She gets to her feet then, and leans on the back of her stool and narrows her eyes at him.

“Dammit Liam, just be honest here. Why did you go to my dad for help?”

Looking defeated, Liam gives her an impression of a wounded puppy, as he watches her.

“Because, after I suspected who you were; I got some information on you. Not being filed under MBS, I realized your dad was keeping you safe. Who else would be better for getting you back, than the man protecting you, your entire life?”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t have left him behind then huh?” She retorts as soon as he finishes.

He is breathing heavily now, but then so is Moira. She can sense his persona like a shadow around him and the cinnamon scent flows around him in waves. She can feel her own answering his, and doesn’t bother stopping it from coming forward. Her eyes go first, making her vision clearer, and then she sees her strawberry blonde hair rise up and change to auburn curls.

She feels her skin stretch and pull against itself, and then her nails are elongating into sharpened points. Her teeth are last, and she can feel then rise to a sharp point and just graze the surface of her tongue.

Finally in full persona, Moira can still feel the hum of her skin vibrating like tuning an instrument. Liam gets to his feet now, with his hands outstretched. His eyes fully change to violet now, and his hair goes from dirty blonde to a deep chestnut. He seems to succeed in not changing the rest of the way, but does look like he is struggling with it.

The cinnamon scent of him flows around her and caresses her senses, making her able to taste warm cinnamon rolls at the back of her throat. Moira is shaking fiercely now, and she doesn’t know whether to go and hit him or something else.

Sighing, Liam lowers his outstretched hands and takes a step away from her.

“I’m sorrier than you’ll ever really know Mo. I really am.”

Feeling tears in her eyes, she back up so that she is at the entrance of the kitchen now. She’ll be damned if she lets his see her cry. Not again, anyways.

Before turning away and running back to the room with the others, she gives him one final glare.