9. Emily - Automatic doors

The Lord stops the motorbike in front of a store. I hop down first, then he does the same.

I remove the helmet and put it on the motorbike.

While I check to see if the crow is alright—it is indeed fine—he removes his helmet and reminds me, “Don’t look at people and don’t draw attention to yourself. And more importantly, don’t remove your mask.”

I want to tell him I heard him the first time, but since that’s impossible, I give him a thumbs up.

Jerking his head in the store’s direction, he adds, “Don’t leave my sight no matter what,” before we head for the entrance.

People enter and leave the store. I’m about to enter when I notice the Lord has stopped walking. His eyes are glued to the automatic doors as they close. Taking a step back, he says, “The doors make me anxious.”

Ah, so that’s why he wanted me to come with him, so I’ll help him with the automatic doors.

“I usually order online or…” he mumbles, visibly nervous.

Last night’s storm was so strong that many parts of the city suffered damage, including roads that got blocked. Online shopping might not be possible for a few days.

I stand in the middle of the automatic doors and wait for him to enter, but he’s so nervous that he’s starting to sweat. When he takes another step back, I know I have to take matters into my own hands, so I grab the front of his jacket and pull him inside.

“Don’t ever do that again!” he snarls at me.

I don’t understand why he’s so upset. He never said that I couldn’t pull him, only that I couldn’t touch him. I grabbed his clothes, so I didn’t technically touch him.

Since nothing ever comes from fighting a Lord, I nod.

“Grab a shopping cart and follow me.”

He doesn’t waste time browsing and goes directly to where the ramen is. He walks very fast, so keeping up with him is a struggle as I have to jog when I have little to no energy. Plus, my ankle is killing me.

I’m doing this for the crow, I remind myself while he puts more ramen in the shopping cart.

Who needs so much ramen?

After he grabs several ramen packs, we go to the jello section. Lastly, he picks up cat supplies, like food and toys.

When he’s done, we go to a self-checkout counter. He really must hate interacting with people. Maybe he’s an introvert. My dad is. He hates having to talk with strangers. He spends most of his time at home.

After all the items in the cart are scanned, the man pays for them, puts them in the backpack, and goes to the front of the store. There, he stares at the automatic doors, breathing heavily. He really must be scared of them. Maybe he had an accident when he was little and he could never get over his trauma.

I grab his sleeve. His gaze goes to my bony fingers. His breath hitches. I wish I could tell him that the automatic doors won’t do anything to him.

I walk slowly, tugging him after me. He keeps looking at my hand until we are out of the store.

When we are back to where he parked the motorbike, he hands me the backpack. I lift my hood and point at the crow. I need him to understand that the poor thing is hurt and needs help.

The man ignores any of my attempts at explaining what’s wrong with the bird, which isn’t hard to understand to begin with since the crow’s left wing is still in the sling I made for it.

Giving me the backpack, he says, “We are returning home,” before getting on the motorbike.

Not being able to talk is so frustrating!

But also not being taken seriously by a man is absolutely infuriating. The worst part is that I can’t do anything about it. Not when I’m a prisoner.

I put the backpack on—that weighs more than I expected—and get behind him. I make sure to not touch him.

We return home.

When we enter the kitchen, 514 is coming out of the basement. Today, he has a white feather in his hair. It matches the crow’s feathers. He doesn’t look hurt, so he probably forgot about me or left me to starve on purpose for the past day or so.

Asshole! Just like most men.

514’s eyes are full of rage, especially when he sees me. He comes directly to me and grabs my right arm. “Who the fuck gave you permission to take her out of the basement?”

The other man takes the backpack from me. “I needed her help with something,” he says while putting the backpack on the kitchen counter and starting to pull out the items he bought.

514 yanks me toward the basement. “If you need help, ask Rin for it!”

“If you would have been home, you would have known that Rin was in an accident.”

514 stops walking. “What?” He sounds in shock. “Is he alright?” When the other man doesn’t reply, 514 yells, “Cirro, I asked you something!”

Cirro. What an interesting name. Sounds Spanish or Portuguese. Maybe French.

Cirro grabs a jello and a spoon and sits at the table before replying, “Steven is with him. He’s alive but will stay in the hospital for several days.”

514 runs his hand over his face before snapping at me, “Get your ass down in the basement!”

Knowing this can be my last chance to get help for the crow, I quickly pull it out from under the hood and show 514 the wing. His eyes go wide. He stares at the bird for a few seconds before his gaze goes to me.

“A white crow,” he mumbles. “It can’t be.” I keep pointing at the wing while he says, “I just saw it…” A moment later, he drags a palm down his face. “No wonder… I should have known.”

A crease appears between my brows because I’ve never seen him so…shocked.

“Can I see it?” he asks. He sounds calmer.

His question takes me by surprise. I nod and reach out my hands so he can better see the crow, but a scared sound coming from it has me cuddling the poor thing against my chest.

“Atsvsdvsgv,” he says.

“Not everyone knows Cherokee,” Cirro points out.

Looking at me, 514 translates. “Lightning.”

I don’t know what he means by that.

514 continues to speak in Cherokee before picking up a knife from the cutting board and walking up to me, the tip pointing at my chest.