Committed Chapter 10

“What is he doing with the police?” Ariadne asked as Paris led her to the spiral staircase leading upstairs.

            “Whatever he’s doing with them, it’s definitely not a good sign,” Paris pointed out.  “I don’t think letting them find you is a good idea either.”

            “Well, what can he do if he finds me here?” Ariadne asked, taking a few steps up the stairs anyway.  “The cops aren’t going to let him take me or anything, are they?”

            “I don’t know Ariadne but please, trust me on this.  Right at the top of the stairs there’s a closet.  The back of it slides open but there’s no visible handle or anything.  Get in there and they won’t be able to see you.”

            “What about you?”

            “I’m hoping once they think you’re not here that they’ll look elsewhere.”
            Ariadne couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all a bad idea, but the look Paris gave her as he watched her ascend the stairs put doubt into her head.  What was happening?  She shouldn’t be hiding from the police, they were supposed to be the ones who would help them.  But seeing them with Janus…

            Ariadne found the closet that Paris had mentioned and opened it up.  Coats hung from rackets, big puffy coats meant for later in the year when the weather got much colder.  Shoving them aside, she placed her hand against the back wall and pulled, using friction to get a grip.  Her hand slid along the door and she quickly wiped the sweat off on her pant legs before trying again.

            This time, the wall did slide to the side, and she stepped into a second closet meant for shoes.  She first closed the outer door before stepping inside the second closet and closing the second door.

            Even inside, she could hear the muffled sound of the police knocking at the door and she crouched low in the corner of the closet to try and hear better.

            “Mr. Montague?”

            The voice was unfamiliar, so Ariadne assumed it was one of the cops.

            “Yes, is there something I can help you with officer?”  Paris’ muffled voice asked.

            “I’m Officer Edmond Seth and this is Officer Hannibal Antenor, we’re here in response to the report of a possible kidnapping.”
            Kidnapping? Ariadne thought, her heart tightening in her chest.       

            “A kidnapping?” Paris asked.  “Who reported that?  I haven’t kidnapped anyone.”

            “Mr. Menelaus here says otherwise,” came a new voice, which Ariadne assumed was the voice of Officer Antenor.

            Ariadne cursed softly under her breath.  Janus had told the police that Paris had kidnapped her?  She found herself almost dumbfounded by his actions.  Why was he after her so badly?  And what did it have to do with that stupid ring?

            “Do you mind if we look around a little bit, Mr. Montague?” Officer Seth continued.

            “Well, no offense officers, but if this is a legitimate investigation than I think I’m going to have to ask you to leave and come back with a warrant.”

            “That won’t be necessary, will it, Paris?”

            Janus was speaking now.  She could imagine that simple smile on his face as he stepped up to Paris at the door.  Bile rose in the back of her throat and her hands knotted into fists.

            “You need a warrant,” Paris repeated, his voice sounding cold even muffled as it was to Ariadne.

            “Officers, did that sound like someone calling for help?” Janus asked.

            “You know what, Mr. Menelaus, that definitely did sound like someone yelling for help,” Officer Seth replied

            “I believe we call that probable cause,” Officer Antenor.  “We don’t need a warrant for that, smartass.”

            “Hey!  You can’t just-“ Paris’ cry was cut off and Ariadne resisted the urge to fling the closet open and go to his aide.  She forced herself to stay still and quiet.

            “Search the house,” Janus instructed.  “She has to be here somewhere.  Her car is in the driveway, after all.”

            Ariadne felt her heart plummet in her chest.  Her car was still parked outside.  Janus had gotten a good enough look at it when they’d fled the school to recognize it.  He knew she was still in the house and hadn’t left.

            She heard the sound of footfalls ascending the spiral stairs and she forced herself to remain motionless.  She heard the footfalls reach the top floor and pause at the closet.  The outer door opened and Ariadne felt her heart begin pounding louder in her chest.  Surely, whoever was out there would be able to hear it?

            There was the sound of coats being pushed about, but whoever it was quickly gave up and closed the closet door again, moving on down the hall.

            “You better hope we find her, for your sake,” Ariadne heard Janus say downstairs.

            “You’re not going to get her this time,” Paris replied.

            “Don’t be so sure.  This is how the story goes.  I always get the girl.”

            “Doesn’t look like she’s on this floor,” she heard Officer Antenor say.

            “Well, it’s not a very big house.  Get up there and help Seth look.”

            “Sure.”

            There was the sound of another set of feet ascending the staircase and then walk passed the closet.

            Ariadne assessed the situation and decided she couldn’t stay in there forever.  She slowly pushed the inner closet door open and stepped out into the main closet.  She then carefully opened the outer door and left it open as she snuck towards the spiral staircase.

            Looking down, she could see that the front door was still open and light was spilling in from the outside.  She could see the shadows of Janus and Paris cast against the ground.

            As she moved closer and eased down she saw that Janus was holding Paris at gunpoint and Paris had been cuffed.  Janus was holding the gun, once again with a silencer, with a relaxed grip and was checking the nails on his left hand as he did so.

            Ariadne caught Paris’ eye and Paris stepped to the side, forcing Janus to turn so that more of his back was towards Ariadne, drawing his attention away.

            “The two of us did quite the number on your face,” Paris said.  “I guess you weren’t expecting that.”

            “It was an unforeseen complication.  But, ultimately, you only delayed the inevitable.”

            “Yeah, well, you can’t really blame a guy for trying.”

            “Oh, but Paris, I absolutely can.”

            “What are you going to do, shoot me in cold blood right here?”

            “The thought had occurred to me.”

            “Well, that’s too bad, because you missed your opportunity.”

            Ariadne reached around Janus, grabbing his right arm, and yanked it upwards.  He fired a shot, the slap much louder being this close to the gun, and the bullet cracked into the ceiling.  Ariadne wrapped her leg behind Janus’ and pulled him backwards, sprawling him flat on his back.  She twisted his wrist as he fell, forcing the gun out of his hand and causing it to clatter across the floor.

            Instinctively, Ariadne started towards the gun, but Paris cried out, “No, leave it!” and Ariadne forced herself to abandon it.  Janus was already stirring on the ground, rubbing the back of his head where he had hit the couch at an odd angle on the way down.  Ariadne turned and follow Paris through the open door.

            “Please tell me you have your keys!” Paris cried, racing towards her parked car.

            “Get in!” was Ariadne’s response as she used the remote to unlock the vehicle and raced around to the other side.

            Paris, still cuffed, turned to face back towards the house as he opened his door and managed to climb.  Ariadne slammed the keys into the ignition and gunned the engine.  She reversed backwards, the passenger’s side door swinging open wildly.

            “Uh, a little help!” Paris cried.

            Ariadne jammed her foot down on the brakes and the car screeched to a stop. The transfer of momentum swung the door back clicking closed.

            There was a thud on the front of the car and Ariadne jumped with surprise.  One of the police officers had leapt onto the windshield.  She got a flash of a bulbous nose and sandy blonde hair before she slammed her foot on the accelerator and the police officer slid off of the hood.

            Ariadne swung the car to the left, aiming herself down the road in the opposite direction from which the police car was facing, and slapped the car into drive.  As she took off she looked into her rearview mirror and watched three dark figures racing towards the parked police car.

            “How are we going to lose them?” Ariadne asked, bringing up her mental map of the surrounding subdivisions.  She knew the roads well enough from driver’s training to know that this area of New Carthage was full of cul-de-sacs and dead-end streets.  One wrong turn and they’d be cornered.

            “I don’t think we’ll have to worry too much about that,” Paris assured her.

            She glanced over at him as he turned in his seat, grinning as he showed her what he had in his hands.  A key-ring with two keys on it was hanging from his finger.

            “You snagged the cops car keys?” Ariadne asked incredulously.

            “Yeah,” Paris laughed.  When he was cuffing me.  He didn’t even notice.

            “Where did you learn to do that?”

            “Where did you learn how to do a take down like that?  You managed to throw off Janus’ aim, knock him down, and strip him of his gun in just a few seconds.”

            “Kick-boxing classes over the summer and a little improvisation,” Ariadne replied.  “What did you take over the summer, a course in amateur thief skills?”

            “Amateur?” Paris asked.  “There’s nothing amateur about lifting a cops’ own car keys off of him while he’s cuffing you!  That’s golden league skills.  I think you can slow down now.”

            Paris last comment came in response to her taking a left turn through a stop sign too fast, screeching the tires as she did it.

            “Those rubber burns are going to leave a trail,” Paris said, glancing over his shoulder.

            “Hey, don’t be a back-seat driver.  And buckle-up would you?”

            “Oh, right, I’ll get right on that,” Paris laughed, shaking his shoulder’s to remind her of his cuffed hands.  “I didn’t snag the cuff keys while I was at it.  Do you have a hair-pin?”

            “You’ll have to tell me where you took these professional pickpocketing and lock picking courses once this is all over,” Ariadne pointed out, pulling a hair-pin out of her hair and placing it in Paris’ awkwardly outstretched hand.

            “Well, you’ll have to be discrete about it,” Paris replied, getting to work at whatever it was he was doing.

            They drove in silence for a while and Ariadne slowed the car, realizing she really didn’t have any location in mind.  Finally, she turned into a random driveway and turned herself around.

            “Okay, got it,” Paris said, producing the cuffs from behind his back in one hand and the bent hair-pin the other.  “Piece of cake.”

            Ariadne didn’t say anything and just nodded.  The sun was starting to creep over the horizon so that the sky was turning from a deep purple into a light gray.  Clouds hung low in the air waiting to be burned off by the fresh morning rays.

            “What are we going to do now?” Ariadne asked.

            Paris apparently didn’t have an answer.  He tossed the cuffs into the back seat and offered Ariadne the bent paper clip.

            Ariadne shook her head and didn’t take it.

            Paris nodded and rolled down his window, tossing the bent paper clip out.  He rolled the window up again and they drove in silence.

Committed Chapter 9

No sound awoke Ariadne later that night.  She was simply awake, as completely and utterly as if she had been lying restless for hours.  However, one glance at the clock on the wall showed her that it was just before six in the morning and she’d been asleep for hours.

            After Paris had found a sleeping bag for himself he’d shown her upstairs to his bedroom.  It was smaller than Ariadne had expected, even considering the size of his house.  There was barely enough room for his bed and dresser.  She thought of her own spacious room and tried not to feel guilty.

            The house was silent except for the sound of wind moving trees in the backyard.  Paris had a rear facing window just above his dresser but the curtains were drawn so Ariadne couldn’t see out.  What she could see were the shadows of the tree branches, cast by a nearby streetlight, flickering back and forth across the small opening.

            She kicked the covers off with her feet and climbed out of the bed.  Her foot hit on a squeaky floorboard as she stepped towards the door and she flinched.  She took a moment to calm herself before she continued.

            She made her way down the spiralling staircase to the living room/kitchen with silent footfalls.  Paris was lying on the couch, motionless, his body barely moving as it drew breath in and out.

            Taking exaggerated care so as not to wake him, Ariadne tip toed over to the kitchen and pulled the fridge door open.  She held it open just far enough to see inside and took stock.  It was only then that she became consciously aware of how hungry she was.

            She pulled out a jug of water and set it on the counter next to the fridge and then turned to the small island in the middle of the kitchen.  A bowl sat in the middle of it with fruits and Ariadne selected an apple from the assorted options.

            She then turned and quietly checked the cupboard for a glass.  She found them in the second cupboard over from the fridge.

            She was half-way through pouring the glass when she realized she was crying.

            Ariadne couldn’t remember when she started crying but she quickly set the jug of water down on the counter, making more noise than she had intended, and hurried to the bathroom.  Once inside she closed the door and locked it, keeping the light off to bathe herself in the darkness.

            She sat down on the sparse floor space and buried her face in her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs to pull herself into a ball.  She realized now she’d been in shock ever since leaving the school and only now were the torrents of unacknowledged emotions finding space to pour out.

            Her ears seemed to be ringing from the recently discharged gunshots.  Loud slaps like the applause of a crowd, or the striking of a hand against her face.  Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, highlighting the flesh where she’d been struck.

            She did not know how long she lay like that before the tears finally slowed, when her breathing began to return to normal, and when her tight grip on herself began to slacken.  She let her legs stretch out, feeling cramps from how strongly she’d been pulling them against herself.

            Finally, she rose to her feet and wiped her hands across her face.  She reached for the light-switch and flicked it on.

            “Hello Ariadne,” Janus said, looming up behind her in the darkness.

            Ariadne tried to scream out but he already had a hand clamped over her mouth, forcing the ring onto her finger, spinning her down and down into darkness until-

            She awoke in Paris’ bed with a start, sweat coating her face.  She sat there for a moment, panting.  Finally, she took the pillow out from beneath her head, placed it over her face, and cried into it again.

            Once she was done she climbed out of the bed again, testing that same spot on the floor that had creaked in her dream and found it solid.  Sighing, she stripped the pillowcase from the pillow and tossed it into a small laundry hamper that Paris had managed to squeeze between his dresser and the wall.

            The hunger Ariadne had been feeling in the dream was as real now that she was awake so she slipped out of Paris’ room and headed downstairs.

            Paris still lay where he had been in her dream but she felt her memories of the dream fading, as if there had been something not quite crystal clear about what had been around her.  Of course, this only made sense now that she was awake.

            Nevertheless, she went over and closed the bathroom door before she grabbed a real apple from the fruit bowl on the island counter.

            She sank to the floor, back to the island, and munched on the apple.  She gazed at the couch, knowing Paris was sleeping on the other side of it, and thought about what she was going to do now.

            She had threatened to press charges against Janus before Janus had pulled the gun.  The bullet wound in Paris’ arm was definitive proof that Janus had shot at them that night.  But, like Paris said, it would be their word against his.

            Did he really have the influence to get the case dismissed if she tried to press charges against him?  What would happen if she brought this up with her parents?  Would they believe her?  Based on the way her mother had behaved the previous day she seriously doubted that, but maybe her father would.  Or would he be unwilling to follow through with pressing charges against the son of one of his close business partners.

            One thing was for sure, Ariadne couldn’t pretend that Janus hadn’t done anything.  And how could she feel safe again at school or walking around knowing that Janus was out there and posed such a real and present threat.  If he had wanted to jump her on the walk home from school he could have.  Why hadn’t he?  Why wait until that evening?

            In a way, things were made worse by the fact that Halloween this year was on a Monday night.  She could skip school today in an attempt to avoid Janus, but she didn’t think she could justify that to her parents long enough.  Not to mention it would do nothing to solve her immediate problem.

            The only choice that she seemed to have was to try and follow through on her threat and get Paris to go along with her.  His concerns regarding Janus’ influence were not unfounded but they didn’t have a better choice as things stood.  If she confronted her parents with the bullet wound in Paris arm they couldn’t deny that what she was saying was true, could they?

\           Ariadne could already hear her mother asking her why they hadn’t gone to a hospital if Paris had been shot.  She’d probably figure out some way to blame it all on Paris not having as much money as they did.  She’d call it a drug sale gone wrong and that Janus had been trying to help or something.

            Ariadne hated to think of her mother being that way about it, but she also couldn’t imagine her wanting anything unpleasant coming into their lives.  And what could be more unpleasant than the idea that Janus, son of one of her husbands business partners, and thus indirectly related to the security of her current lifestyle, was dangerous.  No, her mother would do everything in her power to deny it.

            But, Ariadne reminded herself, she was still her mother.  If her child was in danger would she really do nothing?  Maybe if she presented the problem to her mother and father and pointed out the fact that they might not be able to take it all the way to the legal level they might come up with a solution together.  If nothing else, her father would know what to do.

            Satisfied for the moment that the only real option was for her to bring Paris back to her house and confront her parents with the problem, Ariadne pulled her phone out of her pocket to see what time it was.

            She had three texts from her mother.  The first two were demands to know where she was and why she hadn’t come home.  Ariadne felt a little guilty realizing that she had fallen asleep without texting her mother to let her know that she would be staying the night here.

            However, the third text made her heart stop.  It had been sent half an hour ago.

I’ve called the police.  They’re coming to Paris’ house now to get you.

Ariadne instantly felt a sense of panic.  Why had her mother called the police?  That was a little extreme, wasn’t it?  It seemed unusual for her mother to take such an interest in her well-being considering how little interest she usually took in Ariadne’s comings and goings.

            Maybe her mother had heard something.  Maybe someone actually had heard the shots at her school or seen Janus running with a gun and called the police.  It was possible that she was worried that she was hurt or that her and Paris were in danger.

            That was when she noticed the red and blue lights washing into the living room through the front facing window.  She rose to her feet, intending to wake Paris, when he sat bolt upright on the couch.

            He was still shirtless, his back muscles coiled as he planted a hand on the armrest of the couch and hoisted himself to his feet.  He rushed to the nearby window and drew the curtains aside enough to peer out.

            “My mom called the police,” Ariadne said, walking towards him.

            Paris turned, showing no surprise at seeing her up.  “She did?” he asked.

            “Yeah, maybe she heard something about what happened at the field.”

            “Maybe,” Paris nodded, though something about his tone made Ariadne think he wasn’t convinced.

            “We can show them where you got shot and tell them what happened.  They can’t ignore us, right?  They’ll have to follow through with an investigation.”

            “That’s what they’re supposed to do,” Paris nodded.

            “What’s wrong?”
            “I don’t know,” Paris said, turning his attention back outside.  “I have a bad feeling.  They’re getting out of the car now.”

            Ariadne drew the curtain aside a bit herself and peering through the opening with Paris.  She saw the two police officers climbing out of their cruiser.  The driver adjusted his belt and checked a notepad between glances at the houses on either side of the street.  Finally, he seemed to find what he was looking for with Paris’ house.

            The other cop went around to the back and opened the door.  A third figure climbed out, hands moving to button a sports jacket.  When he turned to face the house Ariadne’s heart leapt in her chest.

            “That’s Janus,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

            Paris dropped the curtain and turned to her.  She caught his eyes, which were equal parts determination and concern.

            “Hide,” he told her.

Committed Chapter 8

Paris’ house was in the exact opposite direction of Ariadne’s, but it was a few minutes closer.  One look at it was enough to tell Ariadne that the architect had been on a mission to create a home with the exact minimum required space for a family of three to live in without being driven to strangle each other.

            The front of the house had enough space on the first floor for a door and a thin window.  The second floor had one circular window below the inverted-V of the roof.

            Ariadne pulled the SUV into the driveway and clicked off the lights.  She leaned back against her seat and let out a slow breath.  The adrenaline was finally starting to seep out of her system.  She ran her hands through her hair quickly.  What the hell was happening?  How had her evening gotten so completely out of control?
            “Uh, Ariadne?” Paris asked from the passenger’s seat.  “Do you think we could get inside?”

            “Yeah, right, sorry,” Ariadne said, pulling the key from the ignition and climbing out of the car.

            Paris held his left arm close to her chest as they approached his front door and fished in his pocket for the keys.  He finally got them out and dropped them on the ground, cursing under his breath as he did.

            “I got them,” Ariadne said, putting a hand on his uninjured arm as she leaned down to pick up the keys.  “I’m sorry I got you shot.”

            “It wasn’t your fault,” Paris assured her.

            “Still, I owe you.  You got dragged into all of this.”

            “Don’t apologize.  Can you imagine a series of events where I didn’t rush to help you?  The bastard was hitting you.”

            Ariadne nodded silently.  She hadn’t dared to look at her face in the mirror, to see the red welt on her face from Janus’ slaps.  She could only hope that she’d bruised his handsome face when she’d punched him.

            “What can we do to stop the bleeding?” Ariadne asked as they stepped inside.

            A quick scan of the first floor of Paris’ house showed that it was only two rooms.  The living room and kitchen were not separated by a wall and there appeared to be no dining room.  Instead, a small counter-island sat in the middle of the kitchen, which was distinguished by the white tiles, with a fridge and stove while the living room, distinguished by a maroon coloured carpet, had only a couch and TV.  The TV was barely a meter away from the couch and, Ariadne noticed, unplugged at the moment.  There were various other odds and ends scattered around the room, including a clock on the wall, but overall the rooms were sparse.  The only other room was a bathroom to the right of the kitchen, the door slightly ajar.  Ariadne assumed the two doors to her right were closets.  There was also a spiral staircase that went up to the second to the left of the kitchen.

            “We need to keep pressure on it with something.  A sweater like this won’t do forever,” Paris explained.  “There should be something you could use in there, some rags or something.  There should be some cleaning solution in there too.  If you could wash them first, we can use them.”

            “What are you going to do?” Ariadne asked as Paris walked over to the couch.

            “I’m going to sew myself up,” Paris explained, pulling a sewing kit from around the corner of the couch.  “I don’t think my mom will mind me borrowing her supplies in this case.”
            Ariadne nodded and walked towards the bathroom.  There was a smell in the air as she walked.  It smelled of sawdust but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.  Instead, it felt comforting.

            When she stepped into the bathroom she turned on the light and made the mistake of looking into the mirror.

            Her cheek was scarlet from where Janus had slapped her.  That was the first thing she noticed.  By comparison, her messed up hair, which had chunks of leaves torn from the cornstalks in it, and sweaty face and neck were barely noticeable.

            She sank against the sink just below the mirror and lowered her face.  She took in a few slow breaths and tried not to think about it too hard.  If she thought about it the emotions would come and Paris was bleeding.

            She opened the cupboard beneath the sink.  Sure enough, there was a bucket full of used rags and face towels with a bottle of cleaner next to it.

            She pulled out the bucket and grabbed a hand full of rags.  She’d already put the stopper into the sink and it was starting to fill up with water.  She tossed the rags into the sink and dumped some cleaning solution in.

            As she was scrubbing them she felt her pocket vibrate.  She realized it was her phone and quickly dried her hands with a towel off the rack by the sink.

            The screen of her phone told her she’d received a text from her mother.  She opened it and read:

Where are you?

Ariadne quickly explained to her mother that she’d gone back to Paris’ house after the event at school and would be home later.  She didn’t think that a text would be the best way to tell her mother that she’d been shot at by Janus and that he’d hit her.  She’d certainly see the mark on her face when she got home.

            As an afterthought, Ariadne told her mother not to worry, that she was fine.  As she pocketed her phone she thought back to their conversation at the dinner table earlier.  Would her mother believe her when she explained what Janus had said and done?  Or would she think that Ariadne was just trying to cause trouble?

            Deciding that this wasn’t the time to be thinking about that, Ariadne continued to clean off the rags.

            “You almost done in there?” Paris called from the living room a moment later.

            “Almost,” Ariadne called back.  She unceremoniously dumped the bucket of rags she hadn’t used onto the floor and rung out the ones she had cleaned one by one.  She then tossed them into the bucket and carried the lot of them out into the living room.

            Ariadne hadn’t expected Paris to be shirtless.

            He was sitting on the couch, his shirt off, exposing his broad shoulders coiled with muscle.  She hesitated for a moment approaching him, her eyes moving to his left arm, which was held tightly to his side as he worked.  He was holding a line of thread between his teeth and cutting the thread with scissors at that moment.

            “How are you going to get the back part?” Ariadne asked, eyeing the small but bloody entry wound on the back of Paris’ arm.  His arm down to his elbow was coated with drying rivers of blood, some of it matted by the sweater he’d tied around it, but it was still bleeding slightly.

            “You’ll have to do it,” Paris said, turning to her.

            “What?”

            “I can’t reach it Ariadne.  I trust you.”

            Ariadne set the bucket of rags down on the floor and sat beside Paris as he turned so his back was towards her.

            “Okay,” she said, taking the needle and thread from Paris other hand when he offered it.  “It might not be a very good job.”

            “It’ll be better than nothing,” Paris replied.

            Ariadne nodded and got to work.  She’d used a needle and thread before to hem her own jeans and clothes, since her mother refused to do it, but she discovered that doing it to a person was very different.  She ended up drawing more blood in the process of sewing up Paris wound and found herself grimacing as she made the final suture.

            She took the scissors when he offered them, having been silent the whole time she was working, and she cut the thread.

            “We should clean up your arm before we make our makeshift bandages,” Ariadne said.

            “I’ll sew some of them together,” Paris said as Ariadne stood and returned to the bathroom.  She ran another cloth underneath the tap quickly and returned to Paris.

            While he worked, she scrubbed down his arm, wiping away the red marks on his arms.

            “I can’t believe he shot at us,” Ariadne finally said.

            “Janus is clearly used to getting what he wants,” Paris said.

            “Where were you earlier?” Ariadne asked.

            Paris turned to her, having just finished his make-shift bandage, and Ariadne saw the hurt on his face.

            “No!  Oh God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…I just meant why weren’t you there earlier?  I was expecting you at the maze before Janus ever showed up.”

            “My parents had something they wanted to give me.   For my birthday,” Paris explained, reaching across his chest with his right hand to take one of Ariadne’s in it.  “I am so sorry I wasn’t there earlier.”

            “It’s not your fault,” Ariadne said, not pulling her hand away.  “I was trying to be nice to him.  I won’t make that mistake again.”

            “We have to be very careful now, Ariadne,” Paris said, holding her gaze intently.  “We have no idea what he’ll do next.  You should stay here for the night.”

            “I should go home.”

            “He knows where you live Ariadne, I’m sure of it,” Paris said.  “Your home is the first place he’s going to go looking for you.”

            “Then I need to get home now, he might hurt my mother!” Ariadne realized, springing to her feet.

            “He doesn’t want to kill you, Ariadne, he just wants to find you,” Paris said, getting up as well and placing his hands on her shoulders.  “He doesn’t know where I live and you’re safe here for tonight.  He won’t do anything to your mother.  He might have shot at us but he was aiming for me.”

            “How do you know he won’t hurt my mother?” Ariadne asked.  “He might have been aiming for you but he could have hit me.”
            Paris nodded.  “You’re right.  He’s reckless.  The fact that he brought a gun with a suppressor shows that he didn’t expect you to be very compliant with what he wanted.”

            “He just wanted me to put on a ring,” Ariadne explained.  “What the hell was that about?”

            “I have no idea,” Paris said, turning towards the closets by the door as he spoke.  “But I don’t think we need to figure it out right now.  You can stay the night here and tomorrow morning we can figure out what we’re going to do next.  I’ll go grab a sleeping bag, you can sleep in my room upstairs.”

            “Paris, I’m not going to steal your room from you.”

            “You are, and you’re going to like it while you do,” Paris said, glancing over his shoulder and grinning as he approached the closet.  “I am, after all, a gentleman.”

            “Gentleman my ass,” Ariadne replied.  But, because Paris always had that effect, she found herself smiling back at him as she said it.