9.Brothers!

WILDA

I stare at Damian at the door. His massive build blocks the evening light from outside, casting shadows over his features and making his face hard to decipher. The unlit room seems to grow darker the minute he steps into the house. Conan shuffles uncomfortably on the floor.

“I’ve been looking for you, dear sister. You ran off on us.” He settles on the sofa opposite me. “I was so worried.” His voice drips with sarcasm.

He does not wait for a response from me as he turns to Conan, who is still on the floor at my feet, looking like a child caught with his fingers in the box of chocolate hidden in his parent’s room.

“Make me some coffee young wolf, will you? It's rude to keep your visitors thirsty, don’t they teach you that in the woods?” he chuckles as if he said the funniest thing on the planet.

Conan stares at my brother for a while. I can tell from his face that my brother’s words have offended him somehow.  The debate going on in his head is obvious. Damian watches him closely, waiting for a reaction. For a while, Conan holds my brother's hawk-like gaze, but after a few seconds, like everyone else, his will falters and his gaze drops to the floor, ashamed.

 He stands and leaves the room with an indignant huff, and my brother smiles at the victory.

“You people!” Damian breathes, smiling to himself, obviously pleased with the power he holds. “Basic courtesy… Visitors 101: Get the visitor a drink. Do you know nothing?” he adds, rolling his eyes, settling into the sofa, and kicking his feet onto the coffee table.

“So, where did you run off to?” he asks casually, his tone telling me he doesn't really care.

I remain mute.

“Nice place.” Damian says to Conan as he comes back with two coffee mugs in his hands.

He hands the first up to Damian, who takes it with a quick ‘thanks’, and the other he brings to me, our fingers brushing as he hands me the cup, sending a cold shiver down my spine.

“Thanks,” I mutter, my voice cracking.

Blood rushes to my face, and attempting to cover up my embarrassment, I take a sip of the coffee which turns out to be scalding hot. The temperature in the room triples as my tongue catches fire. There are only two options here, spit the coffee, which is disgusting, or let the liquid burn its way to my stomach.

Naturally, I choose the latter, an option I am used to. Its consequences, however, I realize I’m not used to as the hot liquid goes down the wrong tube and sends me into a coughing fit.

“Sorry,” I croak.

I look up expecting to find my brother sending daggers at me, but instead, I find him watching me closely, a curious look on his face, and a smile on his face that makes me feel as if he knows something I do not. I hate the insinuation on his face.

The uncomfortable silence in the room threatens to clog my throat and send me into another coughing fit. Conan clears his throat uncomfortably beside me, shuffling on his feet. It is then that I notice that he has nowhere else to sit as the room only has two sofas.

I gather the blanket around me and move to the other end of the two-seater, aware of my brother’s watchful eyes. His proximity to me on the sofa makes my heart go crazy, pumping blood faster for some reason.

By the look on my brother’s face, my embarrassment must be written all over my face.  The discomfort in the room grows by the second, as we both look at everything in the room but each other, and as Damian’s gaze pierces into my soul.

 I sip my coffee loudly, hoping to end the vicious silence.

“So… You two huh?” Damian asks.

Again, the coffee in my mouth goes down the wrong tube. Damian bursts into uncontrollable laughter. At the same time, Conan sits upright, his arms spread before him.

“NO!” He says, a little too loud and defensive.

He sends me an apologetic look as I continue to cough.

“No.” he repeats, a little softer.

Damian is still laughing when I gain enough control of myself.

“Hilarious! Of course not. You only met today morning, didn’t you?” He sends a pointed glare at Conan.

“Yes. I only met her today… at the table. Not before.” He stammers, swallowing hard.

Well, that’s one way to get caught.

Damian laughs again. “This is fun!” he says, rubbing his hands together.

‘Only for you, and that’s because you are a sadist.’ I want to say. Instead, I smile painfully.

Conan chuckles uncomfortably.

Damians, expression suddenly changes.

“Although I do wonder, why didn’t you come home Wilda?” I look away immediately, unable to answer his question. I myself do not know how I came to be in this room, and have to trust the word of a man I met today.

Conan comes to my rescue.

“She was passed out at my gate, I guess she was coming home, I took her into the house.” He says.

Again, Damian bursts out laughing, stopping suddenly, staring directly at Conan, and saying, “Don’t lie to me.”

Conan shuffles uncomfortably. Looking away.

Damian smiles again after a while of discomfort.

“Of course I knew where you were dear sister, we followed you to make sure you were safe.”

Conan stiffens beside me.

“How else would I know where to find you?”

I stare at him unsure how to reply, or react, but he is not looking at me. He is watching Conan, who is frozen in place, staring at a spot on the floor.

“Anyway, bygones be bygones. We are all family after all right?” he says to Conan, who offers a tight smile and nods.

Damian places his coffee onto the table, untouched. He proceeds to remove his feet from the table and sits up, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands.

“Anyway, this was fun. But we need to get moving dear sister.” He says to me, his voice now serious, and his mood completely changed. “Night is almost here; we need to be back for dinner with the rest of the family.”

He stands and stares down at me, his eyes warning me not to test his patience. Knowing his moods, I pull Conan’s blanket off me and touch my feet to the floor. Conan stands up beside me.

“Bye,” I say, unable to hold his gaze. “And thanks for the coffee,” I add, though I couldn’t tell you what it tasted like as the only sips I took either burnt my tongue or went down the wrong tube.

He nods, also avoiding my eyes.

“You two lovebirds done?” Damian asks, his voice impatient.

Blood rushes to my ears as I follow him towards the exit. He stops suddenly at the door, letting me pass before him.

He pauses as I pass by him, a smile covering his features.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” He reaches into his pockets and turns to Conan, who is following us out. “A present, to welcome you into the neighborhood.”

He holds something out to Conan, his hand folded. Conan holds out an open palm, his eyes suspicious and a little afraid.

The minute the object touches Conan’s skin, he recoils as if from a fire.

“Don’t you drop it!” Damian growls, his voice carrying that weight that warns you not to disobey.

I try to go past my brother but his body blocks the way.

“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice small and cautious.

I look past my brother’s shoulder to find Conan holding his right arm with his left, whatever is causing him pain held in his palm past my view.

His face, contorted in pain, is red. He finds my gaze and looks away and for some reason, I’m filled with guilt, sure that somehow, this is my fault.

“What’s going on?” I repeat, my voice cracking.

Both ignore me, as my brother leans over to Conan and whispers something. Conan’s face is white as a ghost when he stands upright again, his eyes confirming what the rest of his body is saying. He is absolutely afraid.

Damian turns to me, and with a forceful grip on my arm, says, “Let’s get out of here.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast… don’t lose my present.” He throws carelessly to his back.