Ash disconnected the call, then jammed the phone back into the pocket of his perfectly tailored coat.

“Sit tight, kid, we might be here a while.” Ash said, his glowing amber eyes again focused on Wren.

But Wren had had quite enough of this for one day. All he wanted to do at the moment was to run a hot bath and curl up beneath a nice, warm blanket with a favorite book. Thanks to his recent bout of crappy luck, that was now impossible.

He had to get to the bus station. He was sure all of the buses were gone for the night, but he could stay at the station overnight. In the morning, he would make a collect call to his aunt in Alabama and see if she could wire him enough money for a bus to Mobile. Once there, perhaps she would let him stay with her until he got a job and a place to stay? That would mean dropping his classes at the University and dealing with her regular “I told you so…” speeches, but he really didn’t see any other way out of this mess at the moment.

“I-I can’t, really.” Wren said as he backed toward the doorway of the chapel. “I really must be going now. I’m terribly sorry about your fiancée leaving you. I hope you the best, I really do, but I absolutely must be going now.”

When Ash made no move to stop him, Wren turned and hurried toward the double doors at the front of the chapel. His hand seized the handle of one door and he tugged on it. To his disappointment, it did not budge, so he tugged again. When it still didn’t open, he tried pushing against it, but to no avail. Panicking, he tried the other door, only to find that he couldn’t open that one either.

He spun around to face Ash, certain that the man had somehow locked the doors without him being aware that he had. It took Wren a brief moment to locate the man as the redhead had moved from his position near the pulpit. In the short time Wren had had his back to Ash, the redhead had seated himself on a pew in the front row and was nonchalantly smoking a cigarette.

This was his doing. Wren was certain of it.

“Excuse me, but could you please unlock the door?” He asked, trying to keep his tone steady. “I really must be leaving.”

“You can leave.” Ash said, not bothering to turn and face him while he spoke. “But it's still raining out and you'll just get soaked again. Besides, I really need to figure out how to get that little tattoo off of your finger before you go about your merry way. Just bear with it in the meantime, yeah?”

He could leave if he wanted to? But couldn’t go until this madman was though with him? Which was it? And as for the marking on his finger… well, he didn’t even want to think about that right now.

Wren could feel his head beginning to spin and he didn’t know if it was because he was getting a cold due to standing in a drafty, unheated chapel in damp clothes or Ash’s contradictory words.

Feeling anger welling in his chest, he stalked purposely toward his “husband,” coming to a halt directly in front of him. Fists balled at his side, Wren watched the redhead place the cigarette between his lips and take a long draw from it. The tip of the cigarette burned red in the dim lighting of the chapel, the color an eerie match to the glowing amber eyes of the man who held it. Wren gritted his teeth as he stood there - trembling from damp, exhaustion, and rage - and waited as the man inhaled then exhaled deeply, smoke wafting upward.

Ash wasn’t just heartbroken, or even crazy, for that matter. He was pretty much holding Wren hostage and now he had the audacity to smoke inside a church. No, he wasn’t mad or pitiable, at all. He apparently just didn’t care what he did, where he did it, or to whom he did it to. Wren was beginning to see why his fiancée had left him at the altar.

Wren opened his mouth to let Ash have a piece of his mind, but anything he was about to say was cut off as the large, wooden double doors of the chapel swung open with a loud bang and the interior of the chapel was assailed with a discomforting gust of wind and rain.

Wren jumped and turned toward the doorway while Ash stayed where he was, lazily smoking his cigarette. The redhead sighed and rolled his eyes as if exasperated. “Must they always make such a dramatic entrance?”