"Yeah."
"You managed to ride him out of town yet?"
"No." Sylar slumped with dismay. He had to keep Brea safe, he had to keep her away from her boyfriend, Miles. He was a Reaper. He was dangerous.
"He needs to be gone," Smith noted wisely. "I heard there was trouble in Colridge last night. Were you any part of it?"
Smith looked hurt as he asked the question. If there had been any trouble involving Sylar, he'd have wanted to have been a part of it.
"No," Sylar clarified. "What happened?"
"Some dive bar got turned over," Smith drained the last of the beer from the bottle he was holding and wiped his mouth. "No big deal, except Colridge is our territory. If anyone is starting shit there, it should be us."
"Then who was it?" Sylar feared that he already knew the answer.
"Who do you think?" Smith scoffed. "Your sister's boy toy, that's who. Him and some of his cronies. They're making a move, Sylar. They're taunting us."
"Dammit," Sylar gripped the bar so tight that his knuckles blanched of color. "We need to stop them."
"Tell me something I don't know." Smith was unusually calm about it all. Normally he'd be filled with rage and eager to break some bones.
"I'm surprised you're not already over there with a crowbar," Sylar noted.
"Ha," Smith grinned widely, appreciating the comment. "I wish I was, truly. But I'm holding back. We all are," he leaned back in his chair to glance around the quiet bar. A few rugged men remained in their chairs from the night before, their eyes glazed over.
"But the Blood Pact aren't about to go charging in when your sister might get caught up in it all."
Sylar swallowed nervously. "Does everyone know?"
He felt shamed by his lack of action. And now the entire pack knew that his little sister was sleeping with the enemy. He was lucky that he hadn't received a beating for her treachery.
"I talked," Smith explained without a hint of regret. "Last night, when word reached us about that bar being turned over everyone here was ready to leave and reclaim our territory. I had to hold them off and the only way I could do that was to tell them the truth."
"Shit," Sylar released an exasperated sigh. His name was now surely mud among the pack. Tears of frustration burned behind his eyes. Why hadn't he been more strict with Brea? He should never have let her go and work in Colridge. This was all his fault.
"Relax," Smith reached out and patted him on the shoulder. "Everyone was cool about it. They understood. Bitches be so headstrong these days, it's hard to keep them on any kind of leash."
Sylar smiled thinly, not relishing having his sister referred to as a bitch. She was a fool, yes, but no more foolish than any other young person in love. She'd just fallen for the wrong guy, it was an easy mistake to make.
"You've got twenty-four hours to get her out of there," Smith raised a fresh bottle of beer to his lips. "Or so I reckon."
"Twenty-four hours?" Sylar repeated, feeling panic rise in his chest. He'd only just been to Colridge. He couldn't very well go back. And how was he expected to get Brea out of there? He knew she wouldn't listen to reason, he couldn't very well drag her home kicking and screaming. Could he?
"Yep," Smith nodded. "Tonight when the bar is buzzing again the pack is going to be like a bunch of mad dogs. Put a couple of drinks in them and they'll be baying for blood and payback. I suggest you remove your sister from Colridge as fast as you can unless you want her getting caught up in it all."
"No," Sylar's chest felt tight. "I don't want that at all. I've never wanted her caught up in any of this."
"Secrets have a way of getting found out," Smith mused. "You can try as much as you want to keep them hidden but eventually they come bubbling up to the surface."
"She won't leave willingly." Sylar could already imagine the conversation with his sister, how she'd stubbornly defy him, calling Colridge her home.
"Tell her the truth, tell her she's in danger," Smith suggested logically.
"I can't."
"Because then she'd know the truth about you?" Smith arched an eyebrow.
"Exactly."
"Better she hears the truth from you then her thug lover though."
Sylar groaned. He knew that his friend was right. It was finally time for his sister to learn the truth about him, no matter how dark it was. He just had to hope that she'd still love him once she knew. But he was certain that he wasn't the only man in her life keeping secrets – Miles was too, and for the same reasons as Sylar. And now the web of lies which had been weaved around Brea was closing in on her, threatening to strangle the life out of her.
"I need to get her out of there," Sylar slapped his hand down on the bar decisively.
"That's the spirit," Smith toasted him with his bottle of beer. "And I'm coming too."
"What?" Sylar looked genuinely horrified at the suggestion.
"Relax," Smith slapped him on the back as he dropped down from his bar stool, nut shells crunching beneath his heavy boots. "It's not like I'm going to hit on her or anything. Although I'm blatantly her type," he added with a wink.
"I don't need your help," Sylar objected curtly.
"Yes, you do," Smith assured him, gesturing to his face. "I can tell her the truth about that little boyfriend of hers and the kind of real danger she's in."
Sylar was speechless. He knew that Smith was right. While Brea might not believe him, she couldn't deny the physical evidence etched into Smith's face. He felt humbled that his friend was willing to help him. He placed a hand on Smith's shoulder in gratitude.
"Thanks, man."
"Though I refuse to be responsible if she falls for this pretty face," Smith joked as they began walking through the bar.
"Very funny."
It was bright outside. Both men squinted against the light as they approached their parked bikes.
"In all seriousness though, you've got to get her out of there," Smith stated as he hauled himself onto his bike. He'd been drinking solidly through the night but he was still prepared to ride and there wasn't a cop in the state brave enough to pull him over.
"There's a storm brewing between the Blood Pact and us Reapers. It's been brewing for years but suddenly, it feels like it's coming to a head. Can't you feel the electricity in the air?"
Sylar nodded as he could. Even though the sun was shining and the sky was clear, the air felt heavy with the ominous knowledge that something bad was going to happen. Something which would leave the streets of Colridge painted with blood.
"Let's ride," Smith revved his bike and then roared off towards the highway, leaving a plume of exhaust smoke in his wake. Sylar swiftly followed, ignoring how tired he was. All that mattered was getting Brea out of Colridge before it was too late.
Chapter 63
"Morning," Gina was grinning as she greeted Brea. Her whole body still felt flushed from Sylar's touch. But seeing her young apprentice in the light of day reminded her of Sylar's dark warnings and her smile slipped.
"How's things?" she asked briskly.
"Good," Brea gave a light shrug. She was wearing a navy sundress and black ballet pumps. She looked beautiful in an understated way. But her bare arms and pristine skin looked out of place in the parlor.
"We need to get you inked up sometime soon," Gina noted, tilting her head at her. "That's if you're up for it?"
She watched Brea glance down her lean arms and then smile. "I'd like that."
"Hey, did you guys hear what happened last night?" Oscar, the weekday receptionist, blurted as he came through the front door. He always smelt of a strange combination of vanilla and petrol.
"What happened?" Gina asked, one hand on her hip. For one awful moment she thought he was going to say that he saw her having sex in the parlor. The tips of her ears started to burn and she felt a blush creeping up her chest.
"That little bar down the street, O-Hannigans got totally trashed. There's like seven people in the hospital this morning," Oscar was talking fast, his chubby face bright with excitement.