The Assassin's Folly

Tuesday went from a date to a time of mourning for the four of them. Jareth picked Zarah up around five in the evening, his eyes red. She reached over and took his hand as he drove and he squeezed it. She could understand his pain. Even though her family hadn’t died, she knew the feeling of losing someone and the emptiness it brought.

They pulled up to a simple restaurant and she looked in.

“Um, I think I’m under dressed,” she muttered before getting out.

She had dressed in dark jeans and a red top with a black necklace. Inside the restaurant, the women were dressed in elegant dresses and the men in suits. Jareth himself was wearing black slacks and another dinner jacket.

“You look beautiful,” he assured her and got out.

He opened the door for her and they walked in, holding hands.

“I have a reservation under Adams,” he told the maître d.

The man’s eyes lingered on her outfit, an eyebrow raised and she gave him a challenging glare.

He cleared his throat. “Right this way.”

He led them to a booth near the back of the restaurant and Jareth pulled her seat out for her. It only took Hailey and her husband, James, about ten minutes to get to the restaurant and join them. Zarah shook hands with Hailey who smiled at her.

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Hailey said as they all sat back down. “Jareth has told me a lot about you.”

“Likewise,” Zarah returned and the waiter brought over a bottle of red wine.

“And thank you for….” She trailed off and James gave her a quick squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” Zarah said softly. “I truly do understand your pain.”

“Have you lost a family member?” James asked, pouring a generous amount of wine into their glasses.

“In a manner of speaking,” she answered.

Hailey raised her glass. “To Marcus,” she whispered.

“To Marcus,” they echoed and Jareth drank all of his wine in one gulp.

“So, tell us a little about yourself,” Hailey said and Zarah could tell she was trying to be optimistic.

“If you want to do this all later,” Zarah said, “we can reschedule.”

Hailey shook her head. “You’re kind but I think this is good for all of us. Where do you work?”

“I’m a writer,” she answered, this time telling the truth.

“Amazing! Do you have anything published?”

“Not yet. I’m currently suffering writer’s block,” she said making a face.

For the next hour, Zarah was grilled with questions and she got the feeling that Hailey was interrogating her. Jareth sat quietly, cutting his steak and eating slowly. Zarah was a little worried about him. This wasn’t his normal behavior.

When the dessert came, Zarah shook herself internally.

I’m getting too close, she thought, taking a bite of her cheesecake. Be careful, Zarah.

“I should probably get you home,” Jareth said, standing up and stumbling a little. “It’s almost eleven.”

He patted his pockets looking for his keys, his eyes cloudy. Hailey pulled Zarah to the side.

“He’s drunk,” she whispered.

“I’ll drive him home and take a cab back to my place,” Zarah promised. “He shouldn’t be driving like this.”

“Thank you,” Hailey said and suddenly gave Zarah a hug. “He may not want to say it, but I know he cares about you.”

Zarah gave her a small hug back, her heart sinking.

Can I really take another son and brother away from this family?

Hailey gave Zarah directions to get to Jareth’s house, ignoring his protests.

“I’m perfectly fine to drive,” he said stubbornly as they helped him to his car. He struggled to open his door. “I just need to find my keys!”

“I have them,” Zarah said, getting into the driver’s seat.

Hailey and James waved from in front of the restaurant as they pulled off.

“Snitch,” he muttered about his sister. “I can get home just fine.”

“Hush,” she said, turning at the first light. “I’ll get you home.”

“What about you?”

“They came up with cabs for a reason,” she said and they sat in silence for the remaining ten minutes.

When she pulled up to his house, she admired it for a moment. It was two stories with a grey exterior and a black door. The windows were all blocked by heavy curtains and there were little lamps up the walkway.

She went around to his side of the car and opened the door. He opened his eyes and tried to get out.

“It helps if you take your seatbelt off,” she said with a small smile.

“Oh. Right.”

He unbuckled and stumbled up to his feet. She took his arm to help him up to the door and looked through his key ring until she found a key that she assumed was to his house.

It was dark but she managed to find the stairs. There were two bedrooms and a bathroom on the second floor and she glanced into each room until she found one that she figured was his. She helped him to the large bed and he sat down heavily.

“Let me help you,” she said softly when he tried to take his shoes and socks off; he almost fell right over.

When she finally got his jacket off, revealing a white button up shirt, she made to leave but he grabbed her hand. His eyes were a little more sober but still lost and sad.

“Help me,” he whispered, tears coming to his eyes.

“With what?”

“Help me forget,” he begged and she hesitated. “Please, Zarah. Help me.”

She sighed and took her own shoes off. She nodded and straddled his hips.

“Close your eyes,” she instructed and he obeyed, laying his head back. She ran her hands up his chest and she felt his heart beat faster. She leaned down and kissed his neck and bit his ear gently. He inhaled sharply and put his hands on her hips. “Are you sure about this?” she breathed into his ear.

“Please,” he repeated.

Now is the perfect time, Zarah. Just one bite in the neck and he’ll be dead.

But as she looked down at his pale face, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not yet.

She slowly unbuttoned his shirt and ran her fingernails softly over his skin, making him moan. She kissed his chest and ran one hand down to the bulge in his pants. She went lower, unzipping his pants as she did so.

He moaned again, his breath coming in hitches.

But before she could go any further, he passed out.

She sighed and sat back up. Moonlight shone through the window in between the curtains and fell across his face. Zarah climbed off him but took his shirt and pants off so that he was in his boxers. She pulled the blankets up to his chest and kissed him on the forehead.

“Maybe next time,” she muttered and left a note telling him to call her when he was feeling better.

She slipped her shoes back on and went to his bedroom door. She looked back before she left.

He turned a little in his sleep. He looked more peaceful than he had the last two days.

Be careful, Zarah. You’re getting too close.