The Dark Sire Issue 4 (Summer 2020) | Page 103

My body tightened, muscles constricted. I took a deep, long breath, then licked the front of my lips – anything to nullify my temper. I felt like a wolf tracking his prey, ready to pounce, and wondered if my appearance said as much. “I’m sorry but there is nothing to report. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must retrieve my bag.” Taking my leave, I walked past Dylan’s parents and down the stairs. Herald and Claire caught each other’s questioning glares and came together in a whisper. As if a game plan made, he clambered after me as she opened the door to view Dylan still sleeping. I was already at the front door when Herald scuddled down the steps, stopping at the landing. “Mister Kinkade!” His voice echoed in my ears. I could barely stand it. I stopped, my hand on the doorknob, but I didn’t turn around. Instead, I barely responded. “Yes?” “Where are you going? Are you coming back? When? What about my son?” I didn’t dare turn around for fear of what my eyes might tell. My blood was boiling. I needed air. But I had to resume my polite demeanor. After all, he was just a father fighting for his child’s life, and I knew all too well what it was to lose a loved one. I finally turned, a soft smile on my face, to meet his gaze. “I understand your concern, Mister Foster, but we need to stay calm right now. Dylan is depending on us, right? I can’t treat him properly without my medical bag. I’m staying at the Sentrigard Hotel & Suites on Piccadilly. I’ll only be gone a few minutes. I promise.” 101