He took a deep breath then gave her a hard, penetrating stare. “You get five minutes, then I'm coming in to see what's going on.”
She nodded fast. “No problem.”
He crossed in front of her so she couldn't see the digits he entered, but they each made a sound to correspond to the number and she mentally memorized it. Four, two, five, seven, one. She just hoped her short-term memory remembered it. He pulled down the door handle then turned back to her.
“Be warned.”
She took a step back. “He's that bad?”
He didn't nod or disagree but opened the door for her. Lily took a deep breath and stepped inside. A large recreational room greeted her. The ceiling towered high in a dome shape and the walls were bright and white. The room had a decent-sized kitchen, a large bar, TV, radio system and pool table. A man's lounge.
A movie played on the TV, some gaudy looking flick with unattractive boys and really sexy women. Not the kind of movie she'd think he'd be interested in. Slowly, she made her way through the room finding the main area empty. A leather chair faced the TV but it was empty too.
She stepped next to it and could still see the dimpled impression from where he'd sat in it. Bottles were scattered on the ground around the chair. Beer cans, bottles of hard liquor and a wine bottle—all empty.
“Telal?” she called out.
Hell, the TV was so loud she probably wouldn't hear him if he called back anyway. She grabbed the remote and turned the volume down. Two more rooms lead off the main room. She went to the one on the right and found a surprisingly large workout room with padded mats on the floor, weights and other workout equipment.
She flicked on the light but he wasn't there. “Telal?” she tried again.
As she made her way across the polished white floors, her gut tightened, coiled with worry. She never did get the unique feelings quite like her sister Chloe did, but she'd described them before, and yup, it sucked. It felt like a mixture between severe anxiety and nausea.
The worry pushed her and she forced herself to walk fast to the other door. The door stood ajar and a faint glow came from inside.
Flashes crossed her mind as to what she'd find. A dead body? Though she couldn't see the strong demon taking his own life, she didn't know him well enough yet to be sure. Just how fucked up was he from his trip to the rift?
She realized she'd soon find out as she pushed the door open and found the room empty. It looked like a spare bedroom complete with a closet, dresser, bed, and mirror on the wall. Another door connected to the room sat to the right, the glowing light coming from there. Her stomach twisted even more and she bit her lip as she made her way towards it. Somehow she was too scared now to call out to him, afraid he wouldn't answer her.
Reaching the door, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, held it, and pushed the door open.
Telal's mouth felt like he'd been sucking on cotton balls the whole day. His tongue was dried and damn near crispy and his head throbbed like a hammer had been taken to it a dozen times. The worse was trying to walk. Nothing stayed still long enough for him to figure out which direction was which.
Slowly, he hunched forward in his seat, but in the process his legs kicked out and the bottles around him were knocked to the ground. Even the sound of the bottles hitting the floor sounded too loud to his ears, which had somehow gained hypersensitivity from the alcohol.
Bracing his hands on the arms wrests, he lurched forward, stumbling to keep his feet on the ground. It didn't work and his foot caught on one of the bottles. He shouted as the floor went out from under him. His ass landed hard on the floor, making his teeth clang together and his spine feel like it just got jacked up into his face.
“Ahh, fuck,” he groaned, his hand wiping over his pounding face.
He never drank. Didn't like the feeling of being out of control, but now he rejoiced in it. It dulled out all the shit that had happened last night. Shit he didn't want to think about for at least a hundred years.
With groans, grunts, and a fair amount of sweat spilling he finally managed to pull himself back up to stand. His whole body felt heavy like he'd gained two hundred pounds overnight. His arms hung at his side like boulders; each time he took a step, or tried to, it felt like he was dragging a planet behind him.
Bottles and cans slid across the floor as he shuffled by them. The room didn't just spin around it, it raced up and down, side to side, and freaking sideways. Squinting, he kept his eye on the bedroom door and made his way to it. By time he reached it, it felt like an hour later with the little baby steps he took and he’d managed to bump into every table and wall along the way.
The noise blaring from the TV, some obnoxious show he didn't even know he'd owned, helped him more than he could believe. The sounds seemed to keep him occupied, keep his mind from drifting where it wanted to go—even to his own detriment.
Pitch black surrounded him as he entered the bedroom. He'd turn on the light but right now the darkness felt welcoming. Like a cool hand on a feverish forehead. He made his way to the bathroom but must have been walking sideways because his shoulder slammed into the bedpost.
“Frika!” he cursed. His shoulder burned with the beginnings of a good bruise.
He stumbled into the bathroom and flicked on the light. With jerky movements he tore his shirt off, toed off his shoes, but lost his balance which sent him slamming face first into the ground. His cheek glanced off the hard tile and he felt the beginnings of another bruise start to form.
Fucking perfect.
Using his elbows and hands he crawled into the shower space and leaned against the wall. The frigid cold tiles sent a violent shiver over his heated body. He forced his eyes closed and made himself press all the way back until his entire body shivered like little electrical impulses shot through his body.
Swinging his arm up, he slammed his fist into the “on” button on the panel. Water poured down from a metal grate in the ceiling. The temperature was programmed in just how he liked it—a perfect lukewarm.
His eyes drifted shut and flashing images of his brother and mother projected behind his eyelids like scenes from an old movie reel.
Groaning, he shoved the heel of his hands into his eye sockets until pain flared and his eyeballs felt like they were going to explode.
As the water poured over him, matting his hair to his face, making his pants cling to his legs, he had a brief thought as to how ridiculous he looked. The laughter started and wouldn't stop. He slid down to the floor and felt the water beating over his face and neck. If he opened his mouth far enough he almost felt like he was drowning from the small downpour.
The images never went away. He saw his brother looking like he'd rolled around in coal dust, glaring at him with eyes so dark with hatred... Telal bit his lip until he felt blood.
He'd thought he could do this. Hell, he even thought it might be easy. How fucking wrong he was. With the water pouring over him, he closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.
“Oh, no,” she said.
In a rush, she ran across the bathroom, sliding on her knees to his prone body. She grabbed his shoulders, shaking him, saying his name, but his eyelids never even fluttered.
“Telal!”
Water poured over him from the shower head and she frantically pushed a metal button that shut it off. Her fingers pressed against his neck as her heart pounded. A solid bum bum bum beat against her fingertips.
Tears appeared in her eyes and she blinked them back. She let out an unsteady laugh as her heart slowly beat back at a normal rhythm.
“God you scared me.”
She called his name, getting louder each time but he didn't move. Was he in some kind of a coma or just that drunk? She hoped for the latter.