Page 11 of Steel and Ice

COLT

The old cathedral looked more like a carcass than a church.

Cold rain hadn’t let up, and the street’s asphalt seemed slick enough to swallow whole headlights.

I sat across the street in my truck, engine dead as I watched Blair haul box after box through the cathedral’s sagging side doors. Water streaked down my windshield in uneven drops that formed streams and made the stone spires of the church blur as if they were shifting in the rain.

The building itself appeared half-ruined. An ancient relic that’d crawled up from the earth.

Looming, once-ornate stained glass wasn’t beautiful anymore. The windows had plywood squares patched over them. Paint curled and rotted at the edges as gothic arches clawed at the sky. Next to the church, a graveyard sprawled indefinitely with bent iron fences and crooked stones.

I couldn’t stop watching him.

Blair, in his thin jacket with his shoulders curled against the rain as he lifted another box from his Prius. Every movement was deliberate and careful. His hair was wet against his forehead by the time he disappeared between the doors.

I told myself I’d only watch to make sure Blair was safe.

That was the line.

That was the lie.

But I didn’t believe it.

My phone lit up again. I looked down to see a missed call from my coach, the second call today. But I couldn’t think clearly enough to form coherent sentences, let alone speak to him.

Everything had changed. The world was foggy and upside down.

A sudden motion shook me from my daydream. Across the street, someone else stood partially hidden under an awning. A dark hoodie, a presence too purposeful.

Even through the blur of rain I recognized him: Travis.

Watching the same way I was.

He’d started to make me furious.

My grip tightened on the steering wheel as leather squeaked beneath my fingers. I wanted to exit my truck and end Travis right here.

Paper hadn’t kept him away. But I could.

I should’ve stayed put or driven away. Pretended none of this’d happened, I hadn’t let things go this far.

But I was past that.

Travis watched the cathedral door intently. In his right hand he carried a duffle bag. His other hand was stuffed into a deep front pocket in his hoodie.

Not good.

I had no idea what type of weapons he might have in his bag. He could have mace. A knife, a gun. The possibilities were endless.

Or maybe he had nothing at all.

Still, what made Travis’s behavior more jarring was what he stood to lose.

One wrong touch and he’d be back in a cage, so he circled the rules instead.

Close enough to live in Blair’s head, but far enough to pretend it’s not his fault.

Men of his breed absolutely loved fences; they run the line and rattle the gate to prove they can.

I couldn’t wait around to see what he’d do.

For a painfully long minute, I waited for Travis to shift his focus, suddenly distracted by a phone call. He turned and faced the other direction for a moment, enough time for me to slip out of my truck.

Rain stung against the back of my neck as I crossed the slippery street. My jacket clung heavily to my skin as my boots splashed quiet ripples through the filthy puddles beneath me.

The cathedral doors gave under my hand and let out a noise that sounded like bone splitting. Inside, rain softened to a distant hiss on the roof. I wiped water from my forehead and took in my surroundings.

Stale air permeated, cold, and wet. It carried the stench of mildew and old candles. Faint light trickled through the few intact panes of colored glass.

I didn’t want to linger and have anyone think I was suspicious. I needed to find Blair.

So, I pushed deeper, each footstep loud against the warped wooden floor. A volunteer’s cough echoed down a hallway, far enough away that I had time to vanish before they could see me.

I walked past someone stacking cans near the front.

Then I heard it; down below. The hollow thud of a box as it hit the floor. Faint, but distinct enough for me to detect.

I found the stairwell tucked behind a carved arch with stone steps that led down into a darkness that smelled of damp earth. My boots slipped on the wet edge of the first step, and I caught myself on the rail.

This place was a deathtrap.

Rain dripped down from my hair and left an obvious trail behind me as I dove into the underbelly of the cathedral.

The basement ceiling hung low, arched. Cobwebs swayed and shifted with the draft and bare bulbs flickered overhead. Shelves lined the walls with boxes of food and dented old cans, forgotten after they’d passed their expiration date.

A sadness lingered in this place.

In the middle of the basement, Blair. Bent over, setting down a box. Completely oblivious. A light bulb swung above him and washed his body in light before stealing it back, a fickle confession lamp that couldn’t decide.

I remained in the shadows too long, hidden from the view of the light cone as my heart pounded and I reminded myself: I didn’t come here for Blair.

I came here because Travis was outside.

That’s the excuse.

That’s the reason.

But as I watched Blair stand there, alone, and unaware…

I couldn’t tell what was true anymore.

I’m not this guy.

My fists clenched. I wondered what might’ve happened if Travis had followed him down here without me noticing.

The thought made my body swell with rage. Because I had no idea what I was doing. Standing motionless. Watching. When danger was right there on the edges. If Travis had a weapon in his bag, we needed to make a move.

I stepped forward and my boots crunched against damp stone. The sound carried through the confined space like a gunshot echo off the walls. Blair froze mid-motion and jerked around to look at me.

The box slipped an inch from his grasp before he caught it.

“Jesus,” he said, his voice raspy, “you scared me.”

I closed the distance between us before he could say anything else. Before he could ask the question I already saw in his expression.

I glared at him. “You shouldn’t be here alone.”

My voice came out harsher than I meant.

And I quickly realized how it all probably sounded to him.

“Wait,” he said, raising his hand in protest. “Two steps back, then we can talk.”

I stepped back and gave him space to breathe.

Blair straightened and stiffened his spine, bracing. “I don’t know what you mean, I volunteer here every week.”

I moved closer and he backed up until the stone wall was at his back.

“You don’t get it,” I said. “You’re being watched.”

“By whom?” Blair asked, his eyes on fire. “You want me to say your name?”

“Travis,” I said, my voice a low growl.

I hated Travis’s name. It tasted like rust in my mouth.

“He’s outside right now,” I said.

Blair’s throat bobbed as he tried and failed to swallow. His hands twitched at his sides, wanting to reach for me. Or shove me away.

“Why are you following me?” he asked.

He sounded incredulous.

I leaned in so close I could smell a trace of cologne on him. “Because he is.”

The words struck, a blow delivered without fists.

Blair’s eyes flickered wide before they narrowed. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the best one I’ve got while you’re shaking,” I said, as my eyes scanned him.

I saw suspicion war with something darker behind his eyes.

Above us, a door creaked, and boots scraped across the cathedral’s upper floor. Blair’s mouth dropped open and his head whipped toward the sound. The bulb above us swung harder, light lashing across both of our faces.

“Travis has a duffle bag,” I said as I gestured upstairs. “What I don’t know is what he has inside the bag.”

The flash of fear across Blair’s face told me he understood the stakes. With Travis, the worst had to be assumed.

We needed to make a move.

So, I grabbed Blair’s wrist and dragged him with me through a narrow side corridor that reeked of mildew. Mud suctioned at my boots, wet and thick.

A heavy iron door loomed in front of us.

Somewhere above us, the building exhaled and a cloud of dust shivered down in a slow fall.

We had no time to waste.

I shoved the door open, and we spilled into the graveyard.

Rain had stopped but the air hit sharp and wet, heavy with the scent of soaked soil.

Gravestones rose crooked and uneven from the ground. Their edges slick with rainwater, their names half-erased with time. Statues of angels watched us from above, their faces eroded into blankness by a century of Chicago cold.

Every shadow stretched further than the last, every sound lingered a moment too long. The graveyard refused to forget.

Blair stumbled as his shoes slipped on wet grass, but I caught him by his arm and dragged him upright before he could fall into the muck below our feet. He jerked away from me, but my grip didn’t ease. Instead, my palm burned against his wrist; a tether I wasn’t ready to sever.

Not here.

Not now.

“Let go,” Blair hissed, his voice low but fierce.

I growled at him. “Not a chance.”

Because at that moment, I heard it. The distant sound of footfall.

Blair’s entire body stiffened as his head turned toward the sound. He finally believed me. Travis was close.

The graveyard stretched around us in slick black shapes. Crooked headstones, angels marred with clipped wings. The sound of rainwater dripping from trees. But none of it masked the sound of the approaching man.

Hunting us. Possibly armed.

The silence between footsteps was worse than the sound itself. I could practically picture Travis pausing as he walked, trying to decide which of the graveyard’s winding pathways to follow.

I didn’t think.

Instinct drove me to move, and I shoved Blair down hard behind one of the larger tombstones.

“On your knees,” I commanded, and pressed him into soaked grass.

Blair gasped and sucked in air as anger sparked. “What the hell are you?—”

My palm stole the rest. “Quiet.”