Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Humans and Monsters ❯ Leather Irritations ( Chapter 4 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

By: Smortz

The Pointless Disclaimer: This is my story and my take on the strange monsters our humanity has created. Reviews and messages are appreciated. If there are any typos or grammatical errors I am sorry. I re-read and edit all my chapters at least four times but it's hard to catch them.

Chapter 4

Elinore huffed in irritation while she stared at Deven's computer, checking her email and wondering around the desktop for games. A nice long game of spider solitaire would be a blessing, or even Minesweeper.

“Need anything?” Deven asked upon entering the room. His hair was sticking to his head, soaking wet and she had to give him points for looking good.

“Not yet,” she murmured as she leaned back in the leather chair, she'd needed to cover it with a throw, her skin being sensitive to fake leather. “I can't believe you lied and said this was real,” she thought out loud at the memory.

When she had gone to sit down in the chair the first time she'd asked, for her skin's sake, if it was fake or real. He had been so proud to say it was real, and then when she sat down and was immediately itching he realized the error he'd caused.

“Yes, well,” Deven murmured as he tousled his hair with a white towel, “I would've gotten away with it if you weren't irritated by it.”

Elinore giggled before he finally met her eyes.

She couldn't help the gentle smile that surfaced. It was his contagious expression, without the glasses his eyes were a bit baggy, exhaustion showing more clearly. They held a more childish look instead of seriousness to them. The green rims of glasses had always casted an illusion of them being a green color but without them she noticed they were a dark hazel, with mixes of blue throughout it.

“You should wear contacts,” she mentioned. Deven snorted, “They're a weakness in this job, one speck of dirt and you're killed by some flying object.”

“I suppose,” she allowed out before the speakers of the computer popped and she jumped out of the chair. Deven chuckled, “That's the new email alert, were you expecting one?” he asked.

Elinore sighed in relief that something wasn't trying to get in. Sitting in the chair she clicked and maximized the internet browser she had signed into. Indeed there was a new email and she clicked it open and read it.

“Any threats against the magazine?” Deven asked in interest. She shook her head, clicking the delete button and keeping it to herself. “It's just my mom,” she whispered under her breath, almost in agitation at the thought.

“Mom? I thought you said you didn't have any-.” Elinore cut him off.

“I don't, my mom's not capable of living on her own,” she said, it wasn't a lie. It wasn't the truth either.

Her mother had gone insane, and she had been forced to stick her in an asylum. The whole thing had gone quite smoothly to her. They'd never been the Brady Bunch of a family anyways.

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear about that,” Deven responded and she shook her head at him. “Don't be, they just want to remind me that she's still alive.”

Deven cleared his throat in confusion, pushing his glasses on to his nose and tossing the clean towel on to the kitchen counter. “Isn't that a good thing?”

Elinore nodded slowly, sighing again. “Yea,” she forced out before she looked up at him. “How far did Landen go for breakfast?” She asked, covering her mouth to hide the yawn.

They hadn't gotten a wink of sleep the night before. Elinore was to busy trying to stay out of fights while Landen was to busy trying to cause them. Deven had watched with a bag of popcorn on the sidelines.

Just thinking about the long, abnormal night she had made her eyes drift close and she turned off the computer and made her way to the couch, the throw blanket wrapped tightly around her as she collided with the cushions.

“You can use the back room to sleep,” Deven repeated, having told her this twice already. Each time she had shifted uncomfortably and shaken her head, declining with a whisper of a no. This time however it seemed he'd finally questioned her at the right time.

Her eyes had closed for the last time that night, her cheek pressed against the couch arm and some of the blanket's fringed edges ghosting over her chin. “That's going to hurt your neck,” he thought out loud, doubting she was awake to hear.

Landen appeared through the door about ten minutes later with two large bags of Chinese take out in his hands. “Where'd she go?” He asked, seeing only Deven at the computer, a phone balanced between his ear and shoulder.

He didn't reply, merely pointing with a mechanical pencil towards the couch. Landen trudged over to it, having to flip some of his hair out of his eyes to peer over.

She was lying on it, fast asleep, Deven had flatted the back of the couch to turn it into a queen size bed and she had sprawled herself out.

The throw blanket was underneath her, the tail coat hung open and Deven's down comforter covering her to the top of her breasts. One arm was over her eyes, the other against her shoulder as she lay on her side. Her legs were bent and he sighed at how innocent she looked.

A plastic click had him turning away from the girl, looking at Deven who was staring at him with a stare all too familiar. It was Deven's analyzing stare, penetrating anyone who came across it.

“I just got off the phone,” Deven returned, “You know how I always look into our clients, and being that Elinore Vanhok is somewhat of a client, I tried to find out anything about her.”

“And?” Landen asked. It was probably the first time he'd taken interest in a client.

Deven sighed, “Elinore Vanhok is twenty-four.”

Landen snorted, “She doesn't look a day over nine.”

“Yes well, we all don't have the same gene pool as you do,” Deven grumbled out before pushing his glasses higher on his nose.

“She told me her mother was `incapable of living on her own' after she received an email telling her she was still alive,” Deven began; shooting a look to the couch to make sure the girl was still sleeping.

“Her mother is in an asylum, being treated by top doctors that Elinore pays for.”

Landen raised an eyebrow curiously, “Treated for what?”

“Psychotic schizophrenia,” he replied with the straightest face he'd ever seen.

“Why doesn't her father pay for the treatments?” Landen asked as he sat in the chair opposite of the desk, pulling the cartons of food out of the bags along with a pair of disposable chopsticks.

“He's dead,” Deven said quietly.

“And this is where it gets good?” Landen asked, even though it was already interesting.

“Yes,” Deven said quietly, almost hating Landen's coolness on the topic. “Mr. Vanhok was murdered, the file says the `cause of death is unknown, but listen to this…”

Landen watched Deven clear his throat and look towards the screen, a few mouse clicks and he cleared his throat again. “Body was found in the backyard of their country estate, badly beaten and mutilated, they thing it was coyotes post-mortem. It was strange though, because they have a report of him being rushed to the hospital still alive. He died twice.”

“What?” Landen asked in confusion, pulling a chunk of spicy chicken into his mouth.

“I'll repeat it easily,” Deven said and Landen shout him a glare.

“They found the body, dead in the backyard. The coroner had the time of death at… seven forty three in the morning. Then, strangely he was carted to the hospital, at another time of death is at four twenty two, at night, two years later. Her mother had been attacked the night before, assaulted and put in the hospital.”

“So?” Landen asked. Deven shot him a blank expression. “He came back to life, you idiot, he came back to life and went back after her mother. He looked like coyote food, doesn't that sound like… werewolves?”

Landen stopped chewing, glaring at Deven the best he possibly could. “No,” he forced out between clenched teeth. Deven sighed and forced a slow nod, “I guess I looked into it too closely.”

Landen agreed with a nod, pushing Deven's steamed rice forward. “She's just a pesky reporter,” Landen growled out.