CH 16: Margo

((Explanation of the last chapter: They were intimate for the first time. This is going to be important later on.))

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Streams of sunlight and a chorus of birds chirping wakes Esme from her slumber and welcomes her to a new day. A new day that begins with the warm of a partner's chest against her bare skin and the slight musk of his sweat in the air. Wincing from the bright sun, she look up to see Alastor fast asleep underneath her, her head resting on his chest. She smiles and nuzzles her face back down as she reminisces over their moment last night. She sighs contently, her mind still a little fuzzy and her body still a little sore. He was amazing though, extremely gentle and soft with her - yet rough and primal when she was ready. She was a lucky woman.  She's almost tempted to return back to her sleep, lulled by the sound of his steady heartbeat, until she glance over to her round clock on the wall. "Alastor, wake up." Her hands shake him gently, 

"Mmm." He begins to stir, "Must you wake me, Cher?" He grumbles, rough and lower in a groggy morning voice.

"Your show," Esme begins, sitting up and taking the blankets away from his face. "You're late!" She continues to shake him. He sucks his teeth and rolls his eyes.

"To hell with it." He groans, rolling over. Well, someone isn't a morning person.

It was almost humorous seeing a grown man such as himself becoming such a grump in the morning. For someone who always carried a charming smile and composed appearance, the scrunch of his eyebrows and the bridge of his nose was heartwarming to see, "No, no, come on!" She gets up from the bed, wrapping herself in a robe and pulling him to sit up, "You don't mean that, someone is just grumpy." She smiles endearingly.

He yawns, "Fine.." He stands up, heading to Esme's bathroom to freshen up. Meanwhile, Esme is straightening up the room, noticing things from her dresser scattered to the floor, the pillows thrown in different directions. 

Oh, that's right. She giggles to herself. 

"Can you bring me my clothes, please?" He calls from the bathroom. 

Easier said than done. She thinks, scanning the floor for his garments, eventually bringing him his pieces. By the way he struts out of the bathroom, one would never know that intimacy the pair had shared just less than 24 hours prior.  Time pauses for a moment as Esme catches his reflection in her vanity mirror, seeing him adjust the suspenders on his button up before fastening a tie around his neck. Clothed or unclothed, this man was a Picasso painting in the flesh.  

Alastor catches her eyes on him from the glass and smirks, shaking his head, "Come now, I must leave." 

The two hurry down the stairs, Esme passing him a piece of fruit before he reaches the front door. He turns around to face her, "I take it I'll see you later, dear?"

"Of course, I think we have a lot to discuss." Esme smiles knowingly, before kissing his cheek and nudging him out the door. As the door closes, she leans her forehead against it, sighing. "Oh...my...God..." She whispers in disbelief. Wait until Margo hears this.

She walks over to the kitchen, preparing two mugs of coffee for her and her sister. She walks up the stairs with a satisfied smirk on her face. She's going to absolutely gush. She thinks as she reaches Margo's door, knocking softly. "Margo?" She calls out, "Come on lovey, you have your ladies classes today!" There's a silence, Margo doesn't answer. Probably sleeping in, the little dove. She thinks as she pushes the bedroom door open. Her eyes widen as she notices that Margo's bed is empty, left just as it was yesterday before work, "Margo?!" She walks inside, frantically looking around. Esme drops the two mugs and sprints to the bathroom, swinging the door open, "MARGO?!" No no no dear God no. She runs down the stairs and frantically looks in the living room. Nothing.

Margo never stayed out longer than she was anticipated home - never! It would be outlandish for a young woman such as herself to be out late at night. The teen was always respectful and honest with her whereabouts. Knowing their family's history, the fact that she was no where to be found sent shivers down Esme's spine. Something was gravely wrong, she could feel it.

She runs outside to the front of the house, still in her robe with nothing underneath. "MARGO!?" She shouts. No answer. She notices a man whistle at her as she looks down. Fuck.

She runs back into the house, into her room and quickly gets changed to begin her investigation. She paces the house, walking up and down the stairs and across the living room to fathom where on earth she could have possibly ran off to. She would never stay out that late. She's a good girl, she would've left me a note or something. Esme's head is racing, she is shaking, and her body is breaking out into a cold sweat. Harold! The boy's house! She runs to the front door, flinging it open, not even bothering to lock it. She runs across the street and begins to pound on the neighbor's front door. "Hello? HELLO?! Excuse me!?" She shouts.

The door finally opens, an older woman standing on the other side, "What on God's good earth do you call this, young lady?" She sneers at her coldly. It was the middle of the morning and this madwoman, who was still fairly new to town, was banging on her door in such an upset. 

Esme pants, out of breath, "I'm sorry Ma'am, but may I please speak to Harold. He was with my sister last night, and I can't find her anywhere. Please!" Tears form in Esme's eyes, and the woman soon softens her demeanor, taking her by the hands and leading her inside. 

"But of course." She assures, leading Esme to the living room, "Sit down dear, before you faint. HAROLD!!" She screams. The young boy runs down the stairs, "What is it, momma?" he says. He was young, probably 17 years old, had shaggy brown hair and blue eyes. Goodness the boy was so pure and innocent with a concerned look on his face looking like a frightened little bunny rabbit. This boy couldn't hurt a fly. Esme thinks.

The young man turned off the staircase, his hand letting go of the banister, "Oh, you must be Miss. Esme, Margo's sister...you look just like her." He extends his hand and reaches for hers, "It's a pleasure to meet you." A classic southern gentleman, having a charming and polite nature. He was different from her partner though, there was no danger lurking in his shadows. Something told her that this boy had nothing to do with the situation at hand. 

"Margo...she was with you at the dance last night. I - Is she here?!" She stands up to address him, "She never came home."

Harold shakes his head, his voice dripping with concern, "No, she left the dance without me. Left with some guy and said it was important." He steps towards her, "What do you mean she never returned home?"

Oh for Christ sake, "What guy?" Stuck in the bomb that she just dropped on him, Harold doesn't answer. After a while, her threshold has reached it's limit and Esme runs over to him, grabbing his collar, "TALK TO ME DAMMIT, WHAT GUY!?"

Chaos ensures and Harold's eyes widen as his mother pulls Esme away from him, "I - I don't know! She just said he was a friend of her fathers. I thought she was okay, I - I 'm sorry!"

Esme's breathing begins to shake, "N-No...." The scene before her becomes a bit clouded as the floor begins to sway underneath. Reluctantly, she lets go of his shirt and backs up with a wobblily stance, "I-I....I'm so sorry..." She turns away instinctively and runs out of the house, heading downtown to her safe haven. She couldn't go to the police station, no, how could she? If she were to go to the police, it would be leading them directly to her family's connections. Yes, if she doesn't turn up, she would have to report her missing - but if she went now they would question Harold, and eventually contact her family back in Manhattan. His men would be down here in an instant and the situation could become more bloody than it possibly already was. They could end of behind bars, wasting away like others before them. If her father would have kept on honest life, the two girls would be safe, but life wasn't always that way. There was only one person she knew would be willing to discuss such a circumstance without uprooting her dark roots. 

Once she spots the building, she swings the door open and runs up the stairs to the third floor where she's greeted by a young woman at a wooden desk. "May I help you?" she asks raising an eyebrow, seeing Esme's hair in her face and her breathing labored. What kind of person just barges into an office space looking so disheveled? Esme smooths her hair with her hands and tries to adjust her appearance while also struggling to catch her breath, "I - I need to see Mr. Alastor, is he here?"

The woman scoffs and chuckles, "Get in line hunny. He doesn't address the public until the afternoon" Esme grits her teeth, "I don't want a fucking autograph, I need to speak with him IMMEDIATELY!" She shouts.

Eleanor gulps as Esme's hands hit against her desk, "Why, of course, but he's currently in the middle of a broadca-"

"Cut. It. Short." Esme threatens.

Eleanor nods and walks down the hall to the broadcasting room, pressing a button on the wall that would alert Alastor to an emergency without making any noise. Sure enough, within a matter of minutes he walks out, seemingly annoyed, "This better me good, Eleanor." She doesn't say anything, just points to Esme who is standing by the window, tapping her foot, and biting her nails. "Dearest..." he mumbles as he walks over to her. She never visited him at his place if business. For heaven's sake, he never even introduced her to the building, just mentioning his office vaguely when they would pass the it on their walks. Upon seeing her, he knew that something was not right. Esme turns around, quickly grabbing his jacket, her hands trembling on the fabric.

"She's gone..Al, she's gone..." His love repeats over and over again. He had never seen her so distraught, not even after her slipped drink. There was rarely an instance where she appeared frazzled. He takes her hands into his grip and attempts to steady them with a squeeze.

"Who?"

"Margo, who else?!" She shouts, causing the workers in the nearby offices to turn their heads. Margo...the young girl..but who would have a vendetta against her? She barely made herself known in the town, always appearing reserved and well mannered. The office grows quite as many ears listen closely to eavesdrop and gossip. This had to be discussed behind closed doors, in private, where he could ensure both of their safeties. His eyes widen in shock, but soon grow dark and serious as he whispers,

"The office, now." He commands in a low whisper as he walks down the hall. Without hesitation, she follows and the door closes with a gentle click.

As they disappear, his secretary returns to her desk, taking a moment to peer back at the shut door. She had only seen Esme for a moment, but something about her struck her. It left her with a tightening sensation in her gut. Call it jealously, fear, or resentment, but all she knew is that within an instant she captivated his attention. 

She didn't like that.

🖤Words: 2010🖤

~ Artemis🦌💗