Rising Shadows

Percy wasn’t sure what was happening to him, but he just wanted to leave. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks. He didn’t feel comfortable in his own home. His home? No, Emily’s home. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was unwelcome there. He woke up in the middle of the night to stare at the ceiling for a little bit. He turned his head to look at Emily, who was sound asleep beside him. She didn’t want Percy there. She raved about honeymoons and their marriage, but Percy knew the truth. While she didn’t show it, she wanted him out. So, that’s what he did.

He quickly got dressed and left, silently going down the stairs and out the front door. On his way out, some footsteps and a soft voice caught his attention. He turned to see Nora standing there, looking a little bit startled.

“Oh, it’s just you,” she sighed. “I thought someone had come in.”

“No one would be bold enough to do that,” Percy said flatly. “Not while I live here.”

“I don’t doubt that, Percy,” Nora smiled.

“Mr. Everett.”

“Excuse me?” Nora frowned.

“Mr. Everett,” Percy repeated. “We are not friends. You work for me. Don’t forget that.”

“Yes… Mr. Everett,” Nora whispered, drawing back a little bit.

Percy nodded to her before leaving, shutting the front door behind him. He pulled his coat tighter around him as he started walking the familiar path to The Smokes that he hadn’t used in quite a while. It was still dark out, and a thick layer of fog obscured Percy’s view. It was the perfect moment for someone to attack him, but no one would dare. Even though his lifestyle had changed, Percy and his brother still had quite the reputation.

He found Luke’s pub among the worn down buildings, and even at that hour, it was still lively. There was no wrong time for a drink for most of the population in that area. No wrong time for all of the beaten-up prostitutes scattered around, either. He ignored them as they tried to get his attention, making his way to the bar and flagging down the shy barmaid. She started to ask for what he wanted, but he cut her off.

“Where’s Luke?” he asked.

"He's gone to bed," the girl said, though Percy didn't quite believe her.

Luke didn't sleep either, but his was by choice. He nodded to the girl and pushed through the crowd to the stairs that went up to the inn. If he remembered correctly, Luke had reserved the biggest room for himself, at the end of the hall. He pounded on the door with his fist, waiting impatiently as he heard some rustling and muffled voices inside. When Cat answered the door, he raised an eyebrow. Her eyes widened a bit, tightening the belt holding her loose robe together and covering herself up a little bit. Luke appeared behind her, shirtless, but his annoyed expression turned nervous when he saw it was Percy.

"Oh... Percy... This is unexpected..."

"You two? Really?" Percy asked, raising an eyebrow. "She can crush you like the cockroach you are."

"That's actually what I like about her," Luke said, shifting awkwardly when Percy's gaze hardened. "Does your wife know where you are?"

"That's none of your concern," Percy said. "I need something. Something I gave you a while ago. And I told you to never give it back. But I need it right now."

“You mean the scotch?” Luke frowned. “I thought you don’t drink things other than fancy wine and tea these days. Didn’t you do that for Emily?”

“It’s mine,” Percy pressed. “Give it back.”

There was an eerie silence and a sort of frightened look in Luke’s eyes. Was Luke afraid of him? Percy found himself thinking that it was about time. Luke was getting a little bit too comfortable. Cat’s eyes flit between him and Percy, gently resting a hand on Luke’s shoulder.

“I think you should give it to him,” she whispered.

Luke looked over his shoulder at her, and she gave him a slight nod. He pursed his lips and gave in, moving to a trunk in the back of the cluttered room and took out the bottle of perfectly aged scotch Percy was asking for. It had been a gift to him from Mr. Daly after they’d both stopped working for the Harringtons, but Percy knew that Emily wasn’t all that fond of him drinking heavier liquors. Because it took a lot for him to start getting drunk, he never counted his drinks, and it always ended badly. Now, he didn’t really care. He needed it.

He took the bottle by the neck and gave one last disgusted look at Luke and Catarina, shaking his head before turning and heading out. He drank straight from the bottle until he got home, that tense feeling in the air getting to him again. He moved to the dining room and started pouring glasses for himself. By the time the sun had come up and Emily came downstairs, he was halfway through the bottle and having a hard time keeping his eyes open. She frowned when she saw the state he was in, brow furrowed as she came closer.

“Percy, how long have you been down here?” she asked. “I looked everywhere for you this morning, you were nowhere to be found.”

“Errands,” he mumbled, pouring out another glass.

“Liquor errands?” Emily asked, taking the bottle from him.

“Give it back,” Percy frowned.

“No, you’re going to make yourself sick,” she said. “Percy, you’ve been acting strange lately and I-”

“Give it back.”

The color drained from Emily’s face, and Percy suddenly realized he was standing. He’d knocked his chair back as he did so, and was now towering over her a little menacingly. Still, she didn’t give it back, shaking her head.

“No, I’m not giving it back,” she said as firmly as she could manage.

“You are my wife, not my mother,” Percy snapped, grabbing her wrist and yanking the bottle away from her. “Maybe you should act like a wife. Stop questioning everything I do. You are supposed to honor and respect me. While you’re wasting time nagging me, I imagine my clothes have yet to be washed.”

“Percy…”

“You’re still going to waste time down here?”

Percy wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Emily so hurt, but he was unphased by it. He wasn’t just going to stand by and let her drive him away. He was going to hold his ground. Emily looked on the verge of crying, but her face hardened and she stood up straight, head held high. Clearly, she wasn’t giving up so easily, either.

“I hope it’s worth it,” she said through grit teeth.

She turned on her heel and marched off, leaving Percy alone. He slowly picked his chair up and sat down, letting out a deep sigh and rubbing his temples. That night, Emily went to bed early. She slept facing the wall, away from Percy, curled up into a ball at the very edge of the bed. He knew she was upset, but he wasn’t about to apologize.

Percy tried to sleep, but like it had been for the last few weeks, he couldn’t. The feeling of dread that was pushing him away was too much to bear. And it was all radiating from Emily. No, not Emily. Her pillow. Under her pillow. Without thinking much about it, Percy shot upright and yanked Emily’s pillow from right under her head. She gasped and nearly fell off the bed, scrambling to the end of the bed and staring at Percy with wide eyes as he grabbed the charm underneath her pillow. He felt a burning sensation in his hand, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he swung the balcony door open and chucked the charm off the end of the balcony as hard as he could.

“Percy!” Emily said breathlessly. “What has gotten into you?”

“I need air,” he mumbled, moving past her towards the door.

He made it to the stairs before his knees gave out. He caught the banister so he wouldn’t fall down the stairs, lowering himself to sit on the floor as his head started spinning. His hand still burned, but there were no marks on his skin. Emily rushed out and knelt next to him, hesitant to put her hands on his shoulders.

“Percy, get up. Get back to bed,” she said softly.

This time, he let her help him up, though he pushed away from her when he still felt some form of the fear radiating from her. He layed back down on the edge of the bed, brushing Emily’s hand away when she tried to touch his forehead, which was glistening with sweat. She pulled her hand away before he touched her, seemingly searching his face. For some reason, she looked like she didn’t even recognize him.