Chapter 7 ~ Nathaniel Dean

Nathaniel Dean inconviently wakes up to a break-in, and finds Sergio trying to kidnap Mr. Michigan for a second time

Chapter 7 ~ Nathaniel Dean

I wake up in the morning on the couch, still sitting beside Bailey. He has an elbow rested on the couch’s armrest, head propped up against the palm. Since his eyes are closed, I assume he’s still fast asleep.

I notice that Picasso, however, is no longer beside me. Looking over to the bed, I notice that he’s curled up in the bed with Mr. Michigan, whose leg seems to be wrapped much neater than it was before. I smile, snickering under my breath, realizing what must’ve happened while Bailey and I were sleeping.

Even still, it must be very early in the morning, as I still feel a bit drowsy, and not quite ready to move around just yet. Closing my eyes again, I rest my head against the armrest opposite of Bailey’s, and close my eyes again.

I don’t even fall fully asleep; I’m just resting my eyes. This explains why I can hear mostly everything going on around me, which doesn’t seem to be very much. But all of a sudden, I hear a doorknob twisting, and someone...maybe even something, shuffling against the carpeted floor.

Though I begin to pretend I’m unconscious, I keep my hearing keen so I can attempt to pick up what might be in the room. Amherst and his boys also seem to have the powers to control creatures of the night, for example black dogs, ghosts, and sometimes even demons. If it is one of their animals in the room, then this wouldn’t be the first time this has happened; there have been numerous occasions where they’ve tried to use such beasts against us all.

The first thing I hear is the tap running on the other side of the room. The water splatters against the floor, before something gets in the way of the stream. Listening carefully, I notice that the water is falling upon skin. This means it’s most likely a human who broke into the room. All I can do is hope with all of my heart that it’s either Noah or Jêrome, the only two of our friends who haven’t joined our group just yet.

Just then, the faucet is shut off, and there’s a masculine sigh of relief. Then, the pacing around the room starts again. All of a sudden, I hear heavy breathing, and someone growling, “I’ve got you now, prince.”

Knowing that something has to be wrong, I grab hold of the pistol I put into my belt loops before going to sleep last night, and open my eyes, sitting up. The first thing I lay eyes on is that Sergio Prezlocki man, one of Amherst’s boys, as expected. He has his hands on either of Mr. Michigan’s shoulders, seemingly ready to pry him out of Picasso’s grasp. However, he won’t be able to, not if I can help it any.

I raise the gun, and squeeze the trigger, aiming for Sergio’s chest, though, it won’t kill him, as the boys of Amherst always seem to be respawning after they’re killed as well. Seeing as I’m about to shoot, Sergio ducks out of the way, resulting in the bullet missing, and hitting a wall instead.

Sergio comes out from behind the bed, and seemingly tries to run away. I shoot again, and this time, hit his hip square on. He howls in pain, falling to the ground, clutching his side. Though he’s no more than five feet away from me, I remind myself that the bullet is lodged into his side, and there’s no way he’ll be able to stand up.

“Damn you!,” he seeths. “Damn you, this hurts like hell, you b*****d!”

I give Sergio a smug look, pointing my gun towards the ceiling to prove that I won, and he simply didn’t.

Bailey suddenly jumps awake, looking to me with a horrified look. “Nate? What’s going on?,” he asks worriedly, looking from Sergio to me.

I nod once, reassuringly. “He’s down for the count, don’t worry,” I tell him. “Make sure Mr. Michigan’s okay.”

Bailey nods once, giving me a sailor salute before pouncing off the couch, and heading over to the bed to make sure neither Mr. Michigan nor Picasso stirred in the middle of the fight.

All of a sudden, someone else, another one of Amherst’s boys, runs into the room, face pale as he’s in a shock. Once I get a good look at him, I realize that it’s Milan Sylvestre, Sergio’s boyfriend.

“Tien!,” he cries angrily, kneeling down to aide Sergio. “We surrender for now! Don’t hurt him anymore!”

He helps Sergio stand up, and slowly limp out of the room, the injured man still moaning in pain. Before they leave through the other door that’s on the opposite wall as the one Milan came through, the Frenchman turns around sharply, his eyes flashing with a blood red light. “I’m going to get you back for hurting him. And letting our chances of finally getting the prince slip.”

With that, Milan turns sharply, and slams the door on the way out. I shake my head, his threat the least of my concerns at the moment. Getting off the couch, I join Bailey the bedside.

“Are they okay?,” I ask.

Bailey looks to me, nodding. “Oui, they’re both perfectly okay,” he says, looking over his shoulder at the bullet that’s still lodged into the wall. “How they managed to sleep through all of that is beyond me, though.”

I laugh, looking at Mr. Michigan and Picasso snuggled up tightly together. They look so peaceful, despite all that happened. Just then, Mr. Michigan stirs, whimpering a little before opening his eyes. He looks a little shocked to see Bailey and I standing over him protectively.

“Guys?,” he says, his voice a little cracked from just waking up. “Did something happen? What did I miss?”

I sharply look from Bailey, to the bullet hole in the wall, back to Mr. Michigan. Knowing that it’s probably better Mr. Michigan doesn’t know about almost being kidnapped so that he won’t freak out about where Sergio and Milan went, and if they’re going to come back or not, I think of something to tell him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I smile softly. “Hey, nothing, just relax,” I reassure him, stepping on Bailey’s foot so he’ll know to go with it.

Bailey quickly nods, wincing. “We thought there might’ve been someone outside,” he says, motioning to both opened doors. “Obviously we checked, but there wasn’t anyone. We’re safe.”

Mr. Michigan nods, not saying anything, but resting his head back down on Picasso’s chest. He gave him a nuzzle, before closing his eyes.

Bailey and I look to each other, snickering and punching each other excitedly. We’re nice enough, however, to let the two of them sleep for a bit longer while the two of us think of where we’ll be going for today.