Текст книги "The Haunted Pub"

Автор книги: Melanie Tushmore

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Something flashed in Ginger’s eyes, and he looked directly at Ryan. “Where’s Ash?”

Ryan felt a mixture of dread and fear wash through him, which succeeded in chasing away his hard

on. “I – I don’t know.”

“Fucker,” Ginger cursed. “What the hell has he done to Jamie?”

At the tone, Ryan flinched. He didn’t know what to do. He shivered against Fizz, who felt even

cooler than before.

The boy stirred. “Ash didn’t do anything.”

“What?” Ginger turned his attention to Fizz. “Jamie, what’s going on? What’s the matter with

you?”

“Pills.” Fizz breathed the word. His eyes were half lidded, looking up at Ginger. “It’s the pills.”

“Pills?” Ginger looked furious. “What pills? What have you taken, Jamie? Tell me!”

Fizz chuckled. “Pre-scrip-tion pills,” he annunciated slowly, his tone implying Ginger was stupid

for even asking.

“Prescription pills?” Ryan repeated. “You mean, your own ones?”

Fizz didn’t answer. He chuckled again and turned his face inwards, trying to plant a kiss on Ryan’s

mouth.

“Fizz, stop it.” Ryan moved his face away, conscious of the fact that Ginger was watching.

“Jamie.” Ginger tried to hold him still. “Jamie. What the hell? Have you taken the wrong dose or

something? Tell me what you’ve taken, dammit.”

“Mmm.” Fizz’s hands left Ryan and he sprang up, latching onto Ginger. Ryan watched in mute

shock as Fizz landed a full-lipped kiss on his own cousin. Ginger was momentarily stunned, then

grabbed the boy’s shoulders, shoving him back down on the bed. While they were distracted, Ryan

took the opportunity to escape, and carefully slid himself off the bed.

His head felt woozy as he stood up. He watched Fizz try to pull Ginger down on top of him, much

the same as he’d done to Ryan earlier. Ginger managed to prise himself free. He stood on the other

side of the bed, staring at Fizz with wide eyes, and a stark expression.

Ryan opened his mouth but words failed him. Ginger turned to him, glaring. “Get Ash on the

phone,” he snapped. “I want to talk to him, now.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Come on, come on,” Ryan uttered under his breath. He stood in the back bar, clutching the

telephone to his ear, growing more nervous with each unanswered ring. “Shit.” Ash wasn’t answering.

Ryan replaced the handset.

Now what?

In desperation, he pulled out his mobile phone. The screen was still blank. He pressed and held

down the power button, willing it to come on. Amazingly, it flashed to life. Well, at least that was

something. Ryan quickly scrolled through the call lists stored on his phone. Ash wasn’t answering his

mobile, but he might be at home. Ryan didn’t know Ash’s home number by heart, however he was

fairly sure Ash had called him from there a few times. Ryan prayed it was saved somewhere on the

received calls list.

“Hi, Ryan!” someone trilled at him. Ryan glanced up at the front of the bar. Sheila, one of the

regulars, was there, waving and smiling at him. Her boyfriend, Steve, was by her side, chatting to

Rachel at the bar.

Ryan waved back, trying to muster a smile. “Hi, Sheila.”

“You on shift, hun?” she called.

“Um...” Ryan was technically on shift, although it would be finishing soon. It was fast approaching

six. The bar would get busy, and Rachel would start griping about being on her own. Ryan bit down his

panic as he stared ahead into nothing.

“Ryan?” Sheila startled him by appearing at his side, leaning over the out-of-use back bar. “You all

right, hun?”

Ryan saw the concern in her eyes. He liked Sheila, a lot. She was one of Ginger’s friends, which

was probably why Ryan liked her. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “Just trying to call Ash.”

Sheila looked at the mobile phone in his hand. “Okay. Well, we’re staying for a couple of pints,

then heading out to the beach soon with our lanterns.”

“Oh, right.” Solstice. Oh, no. That meant the bar would be even busier than normal. Ryan forced out

a smile. “I probably won’t make the beach, but I’ll try and catch you before you leave here.”

“Sure. Come find me if you want a chat.” Sheila smiled back warmly, then disappeared.

Ryan breathed a sigh, then walked out back to the relative quiet of the stairwell. He longed to sit

down, but he didn’t dare. If he did, he probably wouldn’t get up again. Ginger’s leather jacket was

hanging on the bannister, on top of a few other coats, including Rachel’s leopard print one. Ryan

resisted running his hand on the leather, as he often did when he was sure no one saw him. He

concentrated on scrolling through his call lists.

At last, a piece of good luck found him. He recognised Ash’s home number, and pressed connect,

holding the phone to his ear. After three rings, it picked up. Ryan’s ear was greeted by several noises

at once; Indian music tinkling away in the background, the crash of pans, and a deep voice speaking in

Hindi right next to the phone, obviously caught mid-sentence. Then the voice said in English,

“Hullo?”

“Um, Mr. Singh?”

“Yes?”

“Hi, it’s Ryan,” he said in a rush. “Is Ash there, please?”

“Ah!” Mr Singh exclaimed. “Hello, Ryan. What happened, hm? You boys have a tiff?”

“Um...what do you mean?”

Mr. Singh’s deep voice chuckled in his ear. “Ash stormed in earlier, slamming around, now he’s

sulking in his room!”

“Oh. Um, no. I mean, it wasn’t with me,” Ryan said, heart hammering. “Can I speak to him,

please?”

“Hold on, hold on,” Mr. Singh said, his accent making the words sound clipped. The music and

kitchen noises grew quieter. Ryan assumed Mr. Singh was walking around with a cordless phone.

“Ash!” Mr. Singh barked, then spoke a quick stream of Hindi. Ryan heard Ash’s voice answer in

Hindi, sounding somewhat sulky. Mr. Singh laughed, then Ash’s voice was on the phone.

“What?”

“Ash, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said shortly.

He was definitely in a mood, Ryan thought. “Er, that’s good. Um...can you tell me what happened

with Fizz?”

Ash paused before saying, “Nothing.”

“Come on, mate,” Ryan urged him. “What happened?”

“Why?” Ash snapped. “What’s he said?”

“He hasn’t said anything.” Ryan tried to keep calm. “He’s asking for you, and he doesn’t seem

right. Was he acting strangely when you were with him?”

Silence.

“Ash?”

“Yeah.” A quiet admission. “Yeah, he was a bit.”

“But you don’t know why?”

“No, I don’t know what happened,” Ash said. “One minute he was fine, and the next....” He trailed

off.

Ryan breathed in and said, “Apparently he’s taken pills.”

“What?” Ash sounded genuinely surprised. “What do you mean, pills?”

“His own medication, apparently,” Ryan said. “But he’s acting so...weird.”

“Like what?”

“Um....like, all huggy. Like he’s drunk, or something, you know?”

Silence. Ryan could hear Ash’s breathing on the line.

“Was he like that with you?” Ryan asked.

Ash sighed. “Yeah, he was. I don’t know what happened, honest. He was all over me, then suddenly

he freaked out, and told me to get lost. So I left.”

“Really? That’s it?”

“I’m not lying!”

“Okay, okay,” Ryan placated. It wasn’t like Ash to snap at him. He felt sure Ash was telling the

truth, but he had to ask. Ginger was only going to interrogate Ash more. “Look, we’re all worried

about him,” Ryan said. “Would you come back here? He’s been asking for you.” And Ginger wants to

wring your neck.

“Really? But Fizz told me to leave him alone.”

“He’s asking for you now,” Ryan said. “He’s...I don’t know, Ash. I think we’ll have to take him to

hospital or something.”

“Shit,” Ash said. “Okay, I’ll come straight over. But don’t wait for me if you have to go, all right? I

can follow you.”

“Okay, thank–” Ash had already hung up. Ryan put his phone back in his pocket and breathed in. He

gripped onto the bannister, then paused. Giving into temptation, mostly for reassurance, he brushed

his fingers on Ginger’s jacket. Please, he thought to himself. Please be all right, Fizz. He took another

deep breath, then slowly ascended the stairs.

Rachel appeared in the stairwell when he was halfway up the stairs. “Ryan!” She looked at him

incredulously. “The bar’s getting busy, and I’m supposed to finish in an hour.”

“Okay, I’ll send Sammy down.”

“Oh, great.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Like that’ll help.”

“I’ll tell him to pull his weight,” Ryan said.

Rachel disappeared again, the irritation radiating off her. Sorry, Rach, he thought. Ryan trudged up

the stairs, trying to think what else he could do. Why did everything always happen at once? He hadn’t

even had a chance to say sorry to Ginger for annoying him earlier. Ryan shook his head, remembering

all too clearly the way Ginger had shrugged his hand off. Never should have done it, he thought. Never

should have touched him.

Ryan walked in a daze, step after step after step. When he reached the already open staff door, he

heard voices. He looked up as he put his foot on the bottom step, pausing. Sammy and Matt were at

the top of the stairs, on the landing. They stood at the entrance to the pigeon loft. Ryan wondered what

was happening now. He walked up the stairs, and it was only when he reached the top he heard

Ginger’s voice, and a thump come from inside the pigeon loft.

“What’s happened?” he asked.

Sammy pulled a face as if to say, isn’t it obvious?

Matt said, “Ginger tried to get Fizz downstairs. Wanted to take him to casualty.”

“Right,” Ryan said, glancing into the pigeon loft as he heard another crash, followed by shouts. “So,

what happened?”

Sammy smirked. “The brat wriggled away from him, and ran back in there.” He indicated to the

pigeon loft with a jerk of his head.

Ryan didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t like the thought of going back in the pigeon loft either,

but he wasn’t about to leave Ginger on his own.

First things first, though. “Sammy,” he said. “Can you please cover the bar? Rachel is getting

swamped, and she’s off in an hour.”

Sammy didn’t look pleased. “And what happens in an hour? I’m not working on my own, Ryan.”

“When you get down there, call Pete and ask him to come back before seven. Explain it’s urgent.

He’s probably at Tony’s, so he won’t be far away.”

“All right, fine,” Sammy muttered.

“And Matt.” Ryan addressed the bigger man. “Are you prepped for the evening run? Solstice is on

tonight, so it’s bound to get busy later.”

“Yeah,” Matt answered guiltily. “I’ll go get ready.” He moved off, with Sammy close behind him.

A loud crash from the pigeon loft demanded Ryan’s attention.

Ginger. Fizz. Right.

He stepped inside, rounding the open doorway to Fizz’s room. Ginger stood in the centre, holding

his hands out like he was trying to instil calm. Ryan could see random objects lying on the floor; a

torn pillow, feathers, the old stereo, now smashed and broken. Fizz was on the far side of the room,

almost against the wall. He brandished a small lamp like a weapon, its broken wire trailing on the

floorboards. He looked like a cornered animal, ready to fight.

Ryan’s heart pounded. He was scared, but he had to help. Ginger was usually so good at calming

people down, an expert at diffusing drunken pub brawls before they happened. Maybe because Fizz

was his cousin he wasn’t thinking clearly. Backing him into a corner obviously wasn’t helping

matters.

Ryan stepped into the room. “Hey,” he said softly. Ginger looked round at him, obvious relief in his

eyes. Ryan knew he’d do anything for that look. “It’s okay,” he said, fingers gently brushing Ginger’s

arm. “I think you’re scaring him. Step back a minute.”

Ginger looked upset at that suggestion. “But he needs a doctor.”

“I know,” Ryan said. “But let’s stay calm, yeah?” He pressed Ginger’s arm, just a gentle push.

Ginger thankfully took the hint, and stepped back. The skin on Ryan’s fingers burned from the contact,

but he had to ignore it. He turned his attention to Fizz. Instead of approaching him, Ryan went to

Fizz’s bed. He sat down on one side, leaving plenty of room. “Fizz?” he said, patting the mattress.

“Come sit with me.”

Ryan wasn’t sure it would work, but Fizz immediately fixed his eyes on Ryan. He dropped the lamp

and it clattered onto the floor, its bulb smashing on impact. Fizz didn’t appear to notice as he hurried

to the bed. He dropped onto it, settling beside Ryan, and wrapped his arms around him. Ryan tried to

stay sitting up, even as Fizz attempted to pull him down. Ryan bit his lip.

Here we go again.

He was relieved he’d managed to placate Fizz, but now they were back to square one. Looking up at

Ginger, Ryan tried to speak calmly. “I’ve sent Sammy down to the bar to help Rachel. Hopefully Pete

will be back soon, so that’s the bar covered. Matt’s in the kitchen.” He squirmed as Fizz rubbed

himself against his body. “And...er, Ash is on his way,” he added, voice cracking slightly.

“Ash?” Fizz breathed. “He’s coming?”

Ryan cleared his throat. “Yes.”

“Good,” Ginger grumbled. “He can tell us what the fuck’s going on.”

“Daniel,” Ryan said firmly. He twisted his face away from Fizz, trying to keep eye contact with

Ginger. “I spoke to Ash, and he knew nothing about the pills.”

“That’s right.” Fizz chuckled, hands ruffling through Ryan’s hair. “He didn’t know.”

“Yeah.” Ryan tried to hold Fizz’s hands still. “So don’t go biting his head off,” he said to Ginger.

“Ash hasn’t done anything.”

Ginger stood there, scowling, his hands on slim hips. “I still don’t like it.”

“Let’s try to sort it out together, okay?” Ryan pleaded. “See if you can find the pill packet. There’s

got to be some information on it.”

Ginger blinked, then glanced down at Fizz’s strewn belongings. “Right,” he said, snapping into

action. At last, Ryan thought. Maybe if they found the pills it would explain something about Fizz’s

strange behaviour. He tried to ignore the niggling worm of doubt in his mind.

* * *

Ryan supposed they were extremely lucky that when Ash arrived, Ginger was on the phone to a

medical helpline. At least Ginger’s mobile phone worked in the room. Ginger hadn’t been able to

determine anything helpful from the pill packet, or the little leaflet of manufacturer’s guidelines, so

he’d called up the information number listed. They hadn’t been much use either, and had transferred

him to a medical helpline instead.

Ryan kicked himself for not thinking of that sooner. He had called up a doctor’s helpline a few

months ago, in the middle of the night. Matt had been suffering from stomach pain, and was

convinced his appendix was about to burst, or something equally dramatic. The helpline had been very

thorough, but after all that fuss, Matt’s pain had turned out to be nothing more than trapped wind.

Ginger was on his phone, pacing the floor, in the middle of explaining Fizz’s symptoms. He

scowled at Ash as he entered the room, but Ash didn’t seem to notice. “Hey,” he said breathlessly,

staring down at them.

“Hey,” Ryan replied. “Did you run here?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Ash gasped. “Well, I started running, then realised how incredibly unfit I

am.”

“Join the club,” Ryan said.

“Um, so...?” Ash stared at Fizz.

That’s the pleasantries over with then, Ryan thought. Fizz had dozed off, now laying on Ryan’s

chest. Ryan had been fighting an onset of drowsiness himself. He felt like he didn’t ever want to get

up again. “Fizz?” he said, shifting gently. He could feel the boy breathing, and luckily the breaths

seemed fairly even. “Fizz?”

“Hmm.” Fizz stirred, clutching onto Ryan.

“Ash is here.”

Fizz’s eyes flew open, searching wildly. When they found Ash, a smile spread over the boy’s face.

“Ash.” He pushed Ryan away, quite forcefully, and held his arms out for Ash.

Ash looked confused. He glanced at Ryan, then at Ginger. Ryan also looked to Ginger, just to check

he wasn’t about to leap forward and batter Ash to a pulp. Ginger scowled in their direction, but

thankfully remained on the phone. “Yes,” he ground out. “No, we don’t think he’s taken anything

else...”

“Ash,” Fizz pleaded. “Come here.”

Ash threw off his jacket, and stepped forward. He crouched as he neared the mattress, leaning

toward Fizz. “Hey. Are you...okay?”

Ryan watched Fizz wrap arms around Ash, a smile over his face. He closed his eyes, and simply

melted into him as Ash hugged him back. “I’m better now.”

Ryan couldn’t help feel a little jealous at the sight. These two were so obviously into each other,

and the breathiness of both their voices was going straight to his cock, making him feel horny again.

Dammit.

Feeling embarrassed, Ryan edged away, trying to give them room. He looked at Ginger, still talking

on the phone. From the clipped words he was using, Ryan could tell he was getting impatient with the

other person’s apparent lack of answers.

Ryan tried to think. What else hadn’t they covered? Fizz had been fine until he’d taken his pills, so

it had to be a medical issue, surely? Was the boy was having a mental breakdown? Ryan glanced at

Fizz, wrapped around Ash. He didn’t look like he was having a breakdown. But then, Ryan wasn’t

quite sure what a breakdown was like. Fizz was a little weird, after all. Maybe this had been brewing

for a while.

Well, when all else failed... “I’m going to put the kettle on,” Ryan said decidedly. He really needed

a cup of tea. Maybe slip some whiskey in, too. Seeing as Matt had never produced that tea Ginger had

asked for, Ryan thought he’d make it himself.

He pulled himself up, perhaps a little too quickly, as he got a head rush, swaying on his feet. Ginger

stepped in, steadying him with a hand to his arm. Ginger’s hand was hot. Ryan’s arms were bare, and

the touch zinged through his body. His cock definitely noticed.

“I’m fine,” Ryan said curtly, shying away from Ginger’s touch.

Ginger looked surprised, but didn’t reply. Still on the phone, his eyes watched Ryan, yet Ryan

couldn’t take it. He walked away, desperate to escape the pigeon loft. How could the place feel stuffy

even when it was cold?

He hated that room.

Ryan hurried into the kitchen. He filled the kettle, then tried to set it back on its stand. The kettle

wouldn’t quite fit, and Ryan wrestled with it a moment before slamming it down hard. Stupid thing.

He flicked the switch on, irritation rolling through him. Breathing in deep, Ryan willed himself not to

lose it.

Get a grip, Ryan. Get a grip.

He leaned against the sink, staring out of the window at white clouds, while he waited for the kettle

to boil. Absently, his hand came up to brush the patch of skin on his arm that Ginger had touched. The

kettle rattled away, coming to boil.

“Ryan?”

At the sound of his voice, Ryan turned. Ginger stood in the doorway, watching him. He still held the

mobile near his ear. Ryan took another breath in. Oh, boy. The water inside the kettle bubbled, almost

whistling as the kettle switched itself off.

“Yeah?”

Ginger opened his mouth, but paused before he said anything. A buzzing, bodiless voice from the

phone asked him a question. “Yes, I’m still here,” Ginger said. “Can you hang on a sec?”

Ryan exhaled. Well, if Ginger wasn’t going to talk to him, he might as well get on with making the

tea. He moved away from the sink, opening the overhead cupboard, and took out four clean mugs.

“Yes, I understand...” Ginger said to the phone.

Ryan picked up the box of PG Tips, and threw a teabag into each mug. He picked up the kettle,

pouring in hot water, then found a tea spoon to poke at the bags. He watched the tea brew, staining the

water dark brown. Keep calm.

“Look, just a sec,” Ginger said, then, “Ry?”

Ryan forced his eyes to remain on the tea. “Mm?”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he answered, perhaps a little too quickly. He opened the fridge, grabbed the milk, and

unscrewed the top. He sniffed it out of habit, checking if it was all right. Having passed the test, the

milk was added to the mugs.

“Yes, I’m still here!” Ginger snapped at the phone.

Ryan picked up the tea spoon, squeezed out the tea bags, and deposited them in a neat pile on a

saucer. He added a spoon of sugar to his tea, stirring it in. The spoon clinked against the mug.

“Look, forget it.” Ginger ended the call. He chucked his phone onto the counter with a loud clatter.

“Fucking waste of time,” he muttered.

Ryan looked up at him. “What did they say?”

Ginger shrugged. “Not a lot. Just kept saying we’d better take Fizz to casualty if we’re worried

about what he’s taken.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Ryan put down the tea spoon. He chose one of the mugs with no sugar, and slid it along the counter.

“Thanks,” Ginger said, though he didn’t pick up the mug. “Um, look, I don’t think I want hot liquid

or anything breakable near Fizz. He was throwing stuff at me before.”

“Oh.” Ryan blinked down at the tea. “Right. Sure.”

“Maybe just give him water, in a plastic cup?”

“Okay. No problem.” Ryan picked up two of the mugs, carried them to the sink, and sloshed the tea

away. That was a waste of two teabags. He left the mugs on the sideboard, still marvelling at how

clean it was since Fizz had taken to washing up all the time. Poor Fizz.

“Ryan?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry...about snapping at you before.”

Ryan shrugged it off, though his heart was pounding. “Don’t worry.”

“I feel like...I dunno.” Ginger huffed out a sigh. “I felt really weird earlier, and I don’t know why. I

haven’t been sleeping well, and I had a really bad headache. I know that’s not an excuse… I didn’t

mean to take it out on you. I’m sorry.”

Ryan felt relief course through him, swiftly followed by a swathe of stronger emotions. He looked

at Ginger, trying to keep himself together. He didn’t trust his voice, so he nodded. It was moments like

these when he worried he was simply going to burst. When those golden brown eyes stared back at

him, seeming to wait for something, Ryan couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Daniel, I –”

“Ryan!” Ash called from down the hall. “Guys? Ryan!”

Ginger dashed away, and the moment was lost. Ryan tamped down his disappointment. Ash had

called them. What was happening now?

He followed Ginger, and they ran back to the pigeon loft. Ash was wrestling with Fizz on the

mattress. He looked up, panicked. “I don’t know what to do! He keeps trying to –”

He didn’t have to finish. It was obvious what Fizz was trying to do from the way he’d wrapped

himself around Ash, still – thankfully – fully clothed, although maybe not for long. His hands were

under Ash’s shirt, pulling, groping. Ash kept shifting around, not actually moving away, but trying to

block Fizz’s hands without hurting him.

Ryan glanced at Ginger, who looked halfway between furious and upset. Ryan made the decision to

step in, before Ginger got too angry. “Okay,” he said, approaching the bed. “Let’s stay calm. I’m

going to sit down too.”

“What will that do?” Ash grumbled. Fizz groaned beneath him, rubbing himself against Ash like an

animal in heat.

“I – I don’t know,” Ryan said truthfully. “Give you a break, maybe? I mean, he didn’t get this bad

with me.” He sat down, grasping one of Fizz’s hands gently. “Fizz? It’s Ryan. Hey, calm down, okay?”

Fizz’s eyes opened. Their dark depths swirled, then focussed on him in a challenging look. Ryan

wasn’t sure he liked that look much. It didn’t seem like the Fizz he knew. “Fizz?” he said, holding the

boy’s hand. “Everything’s okay.”

Fizz’s other hand abandoned Ash. In a movement too fast to follow, Fizz smacked his hand across

Ryan’s face, pulling himself free from Ryan in the process. Ryan’s eyes closed on impact, completely

caught off guard. A high pitched ringing sounded in his ears, then died away. Stunned, Ryan found

himself slumped against the wall. His eyes blinked open.

I can’t believe he hit me.

Ash scrambled from the bed to get away. Fizz crouched in the covers, growling, like he was ready

to spring on Ryan any second. Shit, Ryan thought. Was he really about to get beat up by Fizz, of all

people?

“Jamie, fuck! What did you do that for?” Strong, warm arms wrapped around Ryan from behind,

and he was yanked back. Ginger pulled him away, out of danger, and helped him to stand. Ryan was

still in shock, first from the brutal slap, and now from being held by Ginger. His cheek throbbed.

Ginger’s hands were on his shoulders holding him steady. “Ryan, you’re bleeding.”

“Huh?” Ryan touched his face, feeling it was wet. When he looked at his fingers, glistening red

blood covered them. “Oh.”

“Shit,” Ginger muttered breathlessly. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“I’m okay,” Ryan said. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was, but he wanted to keep Ginger calm. Why

was he bleeding? Fizz must have scratched him. How on earth did he have nails long enough? Ginger

pressed something to his cheek. Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan could see it was Ginger’s

bandanna, the one usually tied around his leg, or hung from his belt loop.

“Sorry,” Ginger apologised, seeing Ryan had noticed. “It’s mostly clean. You’re bleeding loads.”

Ryan held onto the bandanna, applying pressure. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“What the fuck?” Ash was by his side. He watched the bed warily, where Fizz was still crouched,

glaring at them. “What’s up with his eyes?”

“Huh?” Ryan didn’t understand.

“His eyes,” Ash hissed. “His eyes are brown.”

Ginger frowned. “What?”

“Fizz’s eyes are blue,” Ash said.

“You just said they were brown?” Ginger countered.

“His eyes should be blue,” Ash said quietly, glancing over at Fizz. “Now they’re brown. They’re

actually brown. Tell me what drugs there are, prescription or otherwise, that change a person’s eye

colour from blue to brown?”

“What?” Ginger glanced back at Fizz, and hissed, “Are you sure?”

“He’s right,” Ryan said, realisation dawning. “Fizz should have blue eyes, but his eyes were brown

just now.”

“I am right,” Ash said. “I know I’m right, but what does it fucking mean?”

Ryan dared to look over at Fizz. The boy stayed crouched on the bed, keeping his eyes on them all

the while. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Ryan,” Fizz called to him. “Ryan, I’m sorry.”

Ryan tensed against Ginger. Fizz didn’t sound all that sorry. In fact, he didn’t sound much like Fizz

at all. Fizz was normally shy, quiet, and sincere to a fault. This voice sly, mocking. Had those pills

really done that to Fizz? Ryan’s thoughts whirled in panic. His cheek throbbed in time with his heart;

he could feel the scratch marks sting.

Ginger prised Ryan’s hand away from his face, peeking under the bandanna. “Shit.” He quickly

pressed it back. “You’re still bleeding.”

“It’s okay,” Ryan said absently. He tried to think, but he felt tired, like he had a headache coming

on. “I – I need to get out of this room.”

“Yeah, me too,” Ash murmured.

“Okay, right.” Ginger guided him out of Fizz’s room. Ryan hadn’t expected that, but he wasn’t

about to complain. He thought he could get used to the feel of Ginger’s body against his, under

different circumstances, perhaps. Ash was right behind them. Almost as soon as they left the pigeon

loft, Ryan’s head cleared of its fog. However, being in such close proximity to Ginger clouded his

senses in an entirely different way. Ryan’s heart thudded deeply, and he had to remind himself to

breathe.

Ginger took him into the bathroom, and stood over him. “Ash,” Ginger said, not taking his eyes off

Ryan. “In the kitchen is a green first aid box, on top of the fridge.”

“Right.” Ash darted off.

Ryan stared at Ginger, his hands itching to touch the man in front of him. He couldn’t even feel bad

about the scratch now, if this was what it had given him. Ginger frowned slightly, eyes focussed on

Ryan’s cheek. “Let’s have another look. If this doesn’t stop bleeding we’ll have to get you up to A&E,

too.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Ryan breathed. Being this close but not touching was killing him. Ryan wanted

to press his body against Ginger’s the way Fizz had been pressing against him earlier. That brief

physical contact had flipped a switch inside him, and he needed to touch. Ryan felt the heat coming

off Ginger, could even smell the different scents on him, knew what each of them were. The slightly

peppery aftershave, the sweet, synthetic smell of hair dye and shampoo, and underneath all that, the

delicate musk of sweat that went straight to Ryan’s head. He remembered the way Fizz had nuzzled at

his neck, and it took all his willpower to stay still, to not move forward and do the same to Ginger

now.

His face was so close, Ryan could almost pretend he was about to get kissed. His heart thudded as

the bandanna was lifted away, inch by inch. Ginger stared at Ryan’s cheek, frowning.

“Is it bad?” Ryan asked.

“I don’t get it. Take a look for yourself.”

Ryan didn’t want to move, but if Ginger wanted him to look, he supposed he should. Biting his lip

from sudden nerves, Ryan turned and faced the mirror. He prepared himself to see something horrible;

deep scratches, bloody gashes, the works. But when he saw none of that, he blinked in surprise, and

moved closer to the mirror.

“What the –?” Ryan frowned at his reflection, at the cheek which had been scratched. There was no

blood. There were barely even any scratches. He could just make out three faint, pink lines across his

cheek. That was all.

Ryan leaned into the mirror as he stared. “I don’t get it. It stung loads. Where’s all the blood gone?”

He looked at his hand. That too, was devoid of any bloody evidence.

“I don’t know,” Ginger said. “There’s nothing on here either.”

Ryan half turned, glancing at the bandanna Ginger held out for him to see. The clean bandanna with

no blood on it. This made no sense, he thought. No sense at all. He turned back to the mirror to

examine his face again. Was he going mad? But Ginger had seen the blood too, right?

Ryan’s eyes found Ginger’s in the mirror. “What does –” The words stuck in his throat as Ryan

noticed another figure in the mirror, standing behind Ginger. Ryan’s eyes widened in alarm.

It was a man, a stranger.

Had one of the punters wandered in from downstairs? He was clearly older than both of them, with

short hair that still managed to look scruffy, wearing a dark green military jacket. His eyes were fixed

on Ryan, his face calm. Ryan saw all this in one panicked moment, before he whirled around to

confront him. Staring past Ginger’s shoulder, he was confused to see no one there. Ryan looked back

at the mirror. He examined that same spot, but whoever had been there was now gone.

What the hell?

“What’s up?” Ginger asked. “Is it Ash?” He leaned out of the bathroom, resting a hand on the door