Free Reckoning by Amy Miles Page B

touch.
     
    Slipping on his shoes, Fane snatches his room key off the bedside table and ducks out the door.   The dingy hall, with its threadbare carpet runner and yellowed curtains on the bay window out front, is empty.
     
    He glides down the stairs in one bound, landing lightly on his toes.   The clerk glances up, surprised by his sudden arrival.   He clasps his chest.   “Blimey, you certainly gave an old chap a start.”
     
    Fane tips his head in apology and enters the wintry street.   High-pitched giggling reaches his ear.   He turns, easily recognizing the girl he picked up not twenty minutes before.   Her tattered dress is hiked high once more, open for business.
     
    He hunches his shoulders and follows his feet in the opposite direction.   Away from the girl.   Away from her intoxicated friends.
     
    It is not really the girl that he flees, but himself.   Everywhere he looks, he is reminded of Roseline.   The way her hair would tangle around her face in the gusting winds.   How her eyes would light up when the snowflakes melted on her nose.  
     
    He can almost hear her laugh dancing down the street, making him weak in the knees.   Now, her image just crumbles like bitter ash before his eyes.   He is left alone, staring at a deserted street.
     
    Fane groans, hugging himself.   He misses Roseline so much it physically hurts, as if his heart has been torn from his chest and left to rot in the open wintry air.  
     
    His shoes punch through the thin layer of ice that has glazed over the murky snow.   The uneven pavement offers a challenging obstacle for any who venture out.   Fane trudges forward, untouched by the elements.  
     
    His stride slows as he reaches a corner, several blocks from his hotel.   A glowing neon sign lights the path ahead.   Fane sighs, knowing that it was inevitable that he would end up here, on the doorstep of Torrent .   This is the last place in the world he should be.   No doubt, he will later regret this decision to enter the immortal pub.  
     
    Three raps at the door.   It swings open to reveal an enormous man, whose girth barely fits through the doorway.   His face looks like a tattoo parlor threw up all over it.   The little bit of skin that hasn’t been inked is pierced.   This guy could set off a metal detector within a one-mile radius from any airport.   “Yeah? Wadda you want?”
     
    “I’m looking for someone.” Fane says.   His eyes dart back over his shoulder.   The shadows seem darker than normal right across the street.   Maybe it is just his imagination.
     
    The man clears his throat, pulling Fane’s attention back.   His pierced eyebrow rises.   “You looking for a Bird or a Bloke, mate?”
     
    “That’s doesn’t concern you,” Fane responds, tossing a layer of malice into his voice.
     
    The man squints at Fane, searching the contours of his face.   Fane stares back, challenging the bouncer.   He watches as the man’s brow unfolds, recognition pulling his lips into a smile.   “Haven’t I seen you here before?”
     
    “No,” Fane snaps, “I’m not from around here.”
     
    The bouncer tugs at the metal gauge in his left ear.   “Are you sure?   I never forget a face.”
     
    Fane grabs the bullring in the man’s nose and shoves him against the brick wall.   “I said I’m not from around here.”
     
    “Easy, mate,” the man grimaces, rising on his toes to relieve the pressure from his nose ring.   “Just asking a question, is all.”
     
    “Ask less next time.” Fane growls, shoving him against the wall.   The man sinks back to his feet as Fane releases his grip.  
     
    The bouncer rubs his skull where the brick ground into his head.   “Well?” he grunts, tossing his arm toward the door.   “Wadda ya waiting for?   Get on then.”
     
    Straightening the collar on his shirt, Fane enters the darkness.   Distant laughter pulls him forward.   His nostrils flare as he searches for a single