Page 82 of Shadowed With Fear

When we arrive at town hall on Gray’s bike, I’m a little more than shocked at the number of people crowding the small square. There are some standing on the fountain’s ledge peering over the crowd, a large group with equipment set up directly in the front, and even a few kids playing in the open lawn.

Everyone’s talking collectively creating a dull buzz that filters through the empty street of Main. The big clock tower above town hall says there’s ten minutes until his statement, and each second that ticks away my worry grows.

What if the guy’s had been seen? What if the cops know it’s them? What if the people those guards work for know too?

Grayson and I are out here in broad daylight. Yes, it’s less likely they would retaliate here, but given the crowd, and the media coverage, it could make a hell of a statement, especially if they somehow try to pin it on the guys.

I bite on the inside of my cheek, eyes sweeping over the people, recognizing very few as people my dad had worked with, or from school.

“Hey.” Grayson’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I jerk my head up to look at him. He reaches out with a warm hand, stroking my cheek. “It’s going to be okay, little flower.”

I breath out, nodding slightly. His words melted me from the inside, draining me of all my worry. He grabs my head, squeezing it, and the feeling is all the reassurance I need.

Together we move around the crowd toward the lawn where the kids are all playing, having a pretty decent view of the step to town hall, almost completely unobstructed by the growing crowd in front of us. We’re seeing everything at an angle from this side of the building, but Grayson reaches into his bag pulling out a camera.

“Here,” he mumbles placing it carefully into my open hand. “Gotta practice for that portfolio at some point huh?” He grins at me, the action moving his lip ring. His smile was always something that I loved about him. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was just perfectly…him.

The right side of his mouth lifting a little higher than the other, giving you a rare glimpse at the tooth he chipped playing with Brahm when they were in high school. I think it was baseball, or maybe it was football. I’m not sure, but seeing it is always a reminder than this man standing before me, covered in tattoos, shaggy dark hair, piercing, and a permanent scowl in his eyes, is the same goofy kid I grew up with. The one with the gap in his front teeth and holes in the knees of his jeans.

I’m lost in my thoughts when I realize what he had said, and my stomach drops.

“Shit.”

He laughs. “Still haven’t started that huh?”

I grimace looking away. “No. Been a little busy.” I give him a pointed look, waving the camera.

“We’ll work on it soon, I promise.”

Grayson continues to pull out his camera stuff—lenses, SD cards, straps—telling me about his portfolio for Professor Logan. It’s different seeing this side of him again. I suppose now though I’ve seen pretty much every side of Grayson there is. However, I think I almost like this one the most. Almost.

When he’s wearing the Shadow mask…it’s not Grayson under there at all, but something different, unhinged. Something I crave now that I haven’t gotten to be around him in so long.

But Grayson goes on, talking about composition and saturation, and making sure I can’t forget the importance of my shutter speed. It’s sweet and endearing. Seeing him lost in the work he’s so passionate about. It reminds me of how I am when I have the opportunity to discuss film history.

Finally, the crowd’s volume starts to rise as the doors to town hall open, and out steps the mayor along with a group of his assistants. Mayor Cook stands at the front of the crowd surrounding the pristine podium placed atop the risers that have been erected.

He waves to everyone as they all shout over each other, raking his hands down the dark gray suit he’s wearing. The smile he wears is as fake as plastic, placating and exactly what these people want to see right now.

“Hello, citizens of East End, the finest town in the tri-state area. I know your concerns, I have them myself. Last night a terrible tragedy occurred in the old packing district. Lives were lost. Property was damaged. But allow me to assure you, the dedicated men and women of the East End police department are working long hours to get to the bottom of what took place.

“I am here now to tell you that after the extensive initial investigation by the first responders on the scene,

this was no accident.”

The crowd is eerily silent. My heart skips, before pounding erratically in my ears. I turn to Grayson, eyes wide, and he stares ahead. His jaw clenching in time the fist by his side.

“We have discovered footage from a nearby security camera depicting four individual’s fleeing before the explosion that ultimately destroyed the storage building and stole the lives of eight people. People who were doing their job’s guarding the property.”

My brows furrow.

“It is our belief that these assailants—these fiends,” he spat, “are a part of a larger issue that has taken over this once thriving town.”

The crowd begins to stir, rumblings beginning in the back and working towards the front.

“You have all heard of the incident that occurred after the events of this year’s Founder’s Fest. A girl was cruelly murdered, and another abducted. Though the police have been working diligently to find her, there has been no update in the case,” Mayor Cook takes a deep breath, pausing, before adding, “Until a few weeks ago, when another girl was seen in the midst of the abduction. An anonymous tip described the girl in the back of a vehicle before disappearing. The police have not found any evidence of the abduction; however, the girl is confirmed as a missing person.”

Grayson reaches out for my hand, gripping me tightly. I look up at him, and there is a fire burning deep within the gray of his irises. He shakes his head slightly, a movement so small I almost missed it.