Chapter 02 | The Devil of Siren City

Skylar

As soon as I set the pen down, Adrian picks it up and pulls the paper back toward himself. A quick glance over it, and he signs the second line beneath mine.

He closes the folder with it and my resume inside. “Let me show you to your room,” he says.

“Yes, please,” I say as I pick up my duffel.

Adrian exits the kitchen, entering a short hallway just off the common room. I follow with wide eyes, my pulse still pounding over the choice I just made, wondering what my life will be like here. Compared to where I came from, though…

It’s worth the risk.

There are three doors in the hallway. One to the left, one to the right, another straight ahead. Adrian opens the door to the left and steps inside, leaving it open for me to follow. I walk in and my mouth sags, its size only a fraction smaller than the common room. There’s a full-sized bed with no sheets — as Adrian said, I’ll need bedding — but the mattress is clean and appears new and comfortable. Small end tables flank it on both sides, and a four-drawer dresser sits beneath the window along the right wall next to an open door leading to a walk-in closet.

“Is this the master?” I ask, surprised.

“Yes,” Adrian answers. “I don’t need much space. And the view is better on this side,” he adds.

I glance through the windows, noting the edge of the harbor, and nod. “It’s pretty. Siren City, I mean.” I look at him, meeting his gaze. “Can’t say I expected it to be.”

“I know what you mean.” Adrian shifts slightly. “You can decorate the room however you like. The common areas as well. I haven’t had the time to do anything with it.”

“How long since you moved in?” I ask.

“Not long,” he says, being vague. But I won’t press. “My only request is that you do not enter my room unless asked first. I’ll show you the same courtesy.”

“That’s fair.”

“The exception being for immediate medical need.”

I nod, more than a little curious what kind of need this man will require. “Uh… medical supplies?” I ask, the question popping into my head. “Do I need to provide those, too?”

Adrian walks out of the room, once again giving no instruction to follow. I do anyway, eager to see what’s behind the door at the end of the hallway.

He opens the door on a windowless bathroom, which I should have expected, I guess. It has white tile flooring with a single wash basin beneath an oval-shaped mirror. There’s a toilet and a rectangular shower surrounded by glass dividers on the left and a porcelain tub on the right side with claw feet and room for two — if you like each other enough.

Adrian strolls to a closet next to the basin and opens it, revealing several shelves stocked with medical supplies. I perk with interest, quickening my stride to get close. Boxes of gauze and bandages line the bottom shelf, along with bottles of rubbing alcohol and other disinfectants. Gloves and surgical masks. Cotton swabs and tongue depressors. The basics.

I scan upward, my jaw dropping. Syringes. Little bottles. Painkillers. Antibiotics. Antivirals. Local anesthetics. Corticosteroids. Not the kind of stuff you’d typically find in a civilian’s drug cabinet, that’s for sure.

“Whoa,” I say, impressed. “You’re well stocked.”

“I like to be prepared.”

“Is that a defibrillator?”

“You tell me.”

I glance at him, hearing amusement in his tone. Maybe there’s humor in him after all. “It is,” I say. “I was just surprised.”

“There’s more in the kitchen. Saline solution. Blood bags. Anything that requires refrigeration. Take a look so you know what’s available and let me know if there’s something important missing.”

I wince. “You keep blood in your refrigerator?”

“I keep blood in a refrigerator,” he says. “The cabinet by the hallway isn’t a pantry.”

“Sneaky. What type?”

“A-negative.”

“Ah. I’m O-positive.”

Adrian turns and exits the bathroom. Once again, I follow, staying a few paces behind him as he enters door number three right across from mine. His room.

I stay back, averting my curious eyes. A drawer opens and closes. He returns without the folder, now clad in a deep black jacket.

“Are you leaving?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m sorry to rush off, but I have an appointment this evening on the north side. I won’t be back until tomorrow.”

“An appointment?” I hold up my hands, instantly regretting the question mark. “Sorry. Oh, an appointment! I meant…”

His expression doesn’t change. “Your key is on your dresser.”

I nod, grateful. “Is there anything you want me to do while you’re gone?”

He closes his door and continues toward the kitchen. “Just be here if I need you,” he says, not looking back.

“I can do that. I mean, I will do that. That’s… why I’m here, boss.”

“Adrian.”

“Adrian. Got it. Uh…” I follow him. “How will I know if you need me? If I’m out and about, I mean…”

“I’ll text you.” 

“Oh. Right. That’s… obvious.”

At the door, Adrian pauses. “Make yourself at home, Skylar,” he says, his eyes meeting mine.

“All right,” I say, swallowing hard, my pulse still pounding. “Uh…”

He notices my hesitation. “Yes?”

“Just… thank you.”

Adrian doesn’t reply. He leaves, closing the door behind him, the lock making an audible click as he turns his key.

I empty my lungs. With my next breath, I nearly fall to my knees, my entire body shaking like a leaf.

What have I gone and gotten myself into now?