by Romi Hart
Sure enough, a tear streaked down her cheek. Victor put his arms around her and she hugged his sturdy torso. Whether Victor gave her permission to see Isabelle again didn’t matter. They were on the same page either way. Riley would abide by Victor’s decision. They would do the right thing for Anarock and they would do it together.
Victor turned around and signaled Malachai to join them. When Malachai got near his brother, Victor’s features hardened. “Let’s go. We’re getting out of here.”
Malachai fell in at Victor’s side on the way out of the building. Riley held Victor’s other hand and the trio walked shoulder to shoulder onto Canal Street. Malachai knew better than to ask what transpired between the couple. That was none of his business. “So what did they say about the negotiation?”
“What did they say?” Victor snorted. “They didn’t say jack shit. They’re masters of saying something without saying anything.”
“So…are they going to accept our proposal?” Malachai asked.
Victor grimaced. “How the fuck should I know?”
Malachai cocked his head at his brother. “So are they friends or enemies?”
“Neither.” Victor laughed. “They’re neutral.”
“How can they be?” Riley interjected. “They’re New Breed like us. No one can stay neutral in this war.”
“Well, they are,” Victor replied. “They aren’t our allies and they aren’t hostile toward us. They’re just excruciatingly polite.”
Malachai snarled under his breath. “That’s a pain in the ass. I’d almost rather they were hostile than to sit on the sidelines and watch us give our lives to protect them.”
“Never mind. Just drop it.” Victor stopped on the curb. He cast a glance up and down the street before he confronted Malachai. “We’ve got bigger problems right now. If they want to dream away in their ivory tower, let ‘em. They don’t concern us. Both of you get back to Ogru-Kuche. We have business to attend to.”
At that moment, a sleek black sedan nosed into the sidewalk. The back door popped. Malachai caught a brief glimpse of Colonel Horace Weeks in the back seat before Victor slotted in and shut the door. The car glided away and disappeared.
Malachai turned around to find Riley staring up at him. She looked on the verge of tears. Malachai fought back the urge to squeeze her arm. “Are you okay?”
She nodded down at the ground and her voice cracked. “Thanks. You were right. I shouldn’t have even considered keeping it from him.”
He didn’t bother to ask what Victor said about Isabelle. It didn’t matter. He gave in to the urge and eased toward her. He put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “You did the right thing. I’m proud of you. Come on. Let’s go home.”
3
Isabelle looked up from her phone and froze when she spotted him across the street. Malachai Griffin. He wore a different suit—a black one—but looked just as striking. The burrowing sensation of excitement she experienced at their first meeting rushed back into her middle.
He didn’t see her. He strolled along the opposite side of Canal Street. He gazed through the department store windows, paused to examine something, and meandered on in no particular hurry.
She sat glued to her chair. Her heart fluttered against her ribs. He made no pretense of shoving her away at their last meeting. She should let it drop and leave him alone, but she couldn’t stop staring at him. Something in the way he held back his smile when he told her he couldn’t go out with her suggested he really was interested. Maybe he really couldn’t. Should she give it another shot?
What the hell did she really have to lose, anyway? He was a hot guy. She knew herself well enough to know she wasn’t bad to look at, either. Why shouldn’t she ask him out one more time, just to see what would happen?
The instant she thought that, she jumped up. She almost knocked over her espresso charging across the street. She dodged cars and skidded up to him. She flashed him a bright grin and pointed at him. “Malachai, right? Malachai Griffin? You’re Riley’s brother-in-law.”
He straightened up. That wicked suppressed grin sparkled in his eyes and around his lips. “Isabelle Lytle, top-secret military pathologist. How could I forget?”
Now she knew he found her attractive, too. That gave her courage. “You’re still hanging around. Is your brother in another meeting?”
“No, he’s not here. He’s across town.”
She pretended to look around her. “So what are you doing here all by yourself? You’re not with Riley.”
He didn’t react at all. “No, I’m not.”
She waited, but he didn’t answer her question. She felt herself losing ground. Was he dismissing her again? She couldn’t tell. Just when she thought he was giving her a signal to continue, he shut her down.
When he didn’t respond, she decided to give it one last chance. If he slammed the door in her face, she would take the hint and leave him to it. “So…. if you’re not doing anything, why don’t you join me for lunch? I’m right over there at that café.”
He surprised the shit out of her by facing her with a clear, open countenance. “I’m flattered, but I have to decline. I wish I could, but I can’t.”
This polite refusal annoyed her more than any off-handed silence. “Why? What’s your problem? Just give me a straight answer—just once. Are you married or something?”
A tiny smile twitched his lips. “No, I’m not married.”
“A girlfriend, then.” That smile made her even madder. “It isn’t all that easy for a woman to ask a man out, you know. If I’m not your type or something, just come right out and say so.”
He lowered his voice to a murmur, but he didn’t stop smiling. “I’m very flattered that you’re interested. I’m just trying to protect your feelings by refusing. I know it isn’t easy, but it really has nothing to do with you. You have to believe me. You’re very attractive, but I think you already know that. It’s my family. We don’t…..It’s hard to explain.”
“Try,” she blurted out. “Try just once to explain.”
He contracted in on himself. She almost thought he might be shrinking from the answer. “We just have some strange rules about mixing with outsiders. That’s all.”
“You’re lying,” she snapped. “Riley’s married to your brother. You’re spinning me a line of bullshit. I never should have come over here.” She whirled away, but for some reason, she didn’t leave.
He stood there immovable. He probably wouldn’t have reacted if she did walk away. “Riley’s different.”
She leveled him with a glare. She wished she could roast him alive. “You’re a bastard. I hope I never see you again.”
He shrugged. None of this meant squat to him. She was nothing to him. “Sorry.”
She turned the rest of the way around. She had an espresso waiting for her back at the café. She could look forward to that, at least. Fuck him. She didn’t need him.
She put out her foot to step off the sidewalk when a loud screech made her head swing up. She caught sight of a truck swerving down the street. Its wheels skidded one way and then the other. An almighty squeal ripped from its tires.
She cringed back onto the sidewalk, but at that moment, the big vehicle fishtailed sideways. It twirled in a half-circle and smoke drifted from the tires. The stench of melting rubber hit Isabelle’s nostrils, but before she could move, its wheels caught the pavement and it hopped onto the sidewalk.
The truck hopped the curb, flattened two parking meters, and pivoted one more time. She spotted the driver slumped over the wheel. The next instant, the wheels peeled on the concrete and the truck rocketed straight at Isabelle.
She stared at it in open-mouthed shock, but she couldn’t move fast enough. She gaped at it frozen in astonishment. At that moment, something hit her hard from one side. It knocked her out of the way and powerful, muscular arms closed around her torso.
She watched the whole incident unfold in slow motion. An invisible force lifted her off the groun
d and carried her out of the truck’s path. The behemoth pitched past her nose and plunged into the department store window inches away from her.
Broken glass sprayed in all directions. That otherworldly power yanked her the other way. It spun her back to the wreckage. A shower of debris and glass peppered some surface as hard as iron, but it protected her from the brunt of the assault.
The next thing she knew, her feet touched the pavement and she looked up at Malachai. He loosened his hold on her and moved back. Specks of glass dusted his shoulders. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, too flabbergasted to speak. He glanced over at the truck. Steam billowed from its radiator. Onlookers gathered and peered through the destroyed storefront at the ruined display beyond the truck’s grill.
He stood back a little more. He brushed the shards off his suit and surveyed the wreck. “Someone should call 911. Oh, it looks like someone already is.”
When he passed his hands across his sleeves, Isabelle spotted a flash of white near his elbow. She lowered her eyes and saw red. “Oh, my God! You’re hurt!”
He looked down. When he rotated his arm, the gash in his sleeve split to reveal a deep cut across his bicep. Blood welled between flaps of skin and stained his flawless shirt. He didn’t even blink. “Oh, yeah. How ‘bout that?”
Isabelle dove into her handbag and snatched out a packet of tissues. “We have to stop the bleeding! This looks serious. Does it hurt? Oh, my God!” She grabbed his arm and crammed a tissue against the wound.
He regarded her from a distance. “It’s no big deal. It’s just a cut.”
“How can you say that?” She pressed down her thumb. “Hold pressure on it. How can you say it’s no big deal? You got hurt saving me from that truck. I’ve never seen anything like that.”
He paid no attention to the bleeding. He studied her and her reaction. “It’s not serious. It’s just a scratch. It will be fine.”
She tightened her grip and pulled him toward the street. “We have to get you to the hospital. This could need stitches.”
He dug in his heels. “Naw. I’m okay. I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
“I mean it,” she insisted. “My car is right over there. Come on. It’s the least I can do after what you did for me.”
Slowly but inevitably, he peeled her hands off his arm. He pushed the bloody tissue into her palm. “I’m fine. I better go.”
Just then, a siren echoed down the street. A police car turned the corner and swerved into view. Malachai’s expression changed in an instant.
He took a step back. “I’m glad you’re okay. I gotta go.”
He turned on his heel and set off down Canal Street—in the opposite direction from the accident. In a split second, Isabelle comprehended that he was leaving, not because of her but to avoid explaining anything to the Police.
“Hey!” she called after him. “Malachai, wait!”
He didn’t turn. He continued down Canal Street picking up his pace. In a second, the crowd blocked her view of him.
4
Malachai tore off a strip of medical tape and strapped it around the gauze on his arm. He balled up the bandage wrappers and threw them in the bathroom cannister when a piercing alarm startled him out of his thoughts.
He spun around. Through the bathroom door, he could see a blinking red light flashing on the living room wall. He frowned for a second. Then he switched off the overhead bulb and left the room.
He grabbed a clean t-shirt from his bedroom and strode out of the Griffin family apartment. He headed down the corridor to the stairs. He pulled the shirt over his head, but the short sleeves didn’t hide the bandage.
He exited on the lower level to encounter a dozen people all heading for the same place. He pulled up next to Todd Strauss and jerked his chin at the younger man. “What’s going on?”
“No clue,” Todd returned. “We were just playing Munchkin and heard the alarm. I thought you would know.”
Malachai shook his head. “I was upstairs. Have you seen Victor?”
Before he finished asking, the first arrivals burst through the double doors and entered the Ogru-Kuche war room. All the senior officers of the Prometheus Crest assembled around a single table with Victor and Riley in the middle of everything.
The newcomers ranged around the periphery trying to hear. They fell silent and Victor’s voice cut through the stillness. “Our people spotted them here. They were leaving the Atchafalaya heading east, which means they’re heading right for us.”
“They ambushed one of our hunting parties,” Colonel Horace Weeks added, “but that was just a few hours before they attacked a bunch of high school kids on a camping trip out of Baton Rouge. That tells me they aren’t checking very closely before they take out what they think are mutants.”
Lincoln Manning spoke up from the other side of the room. “How do we know which direction they’re going?”
“We don’t know anything about what they’re doing,” Victor replied. “Technically, we can’t even be certain they are targeting mutants.”
“Why would they be out in the Quag striking hunting parties if they weren’t looking for mutants?” someone else interjected. Malachai couldn’t see who it was through the sea of heads.
Todd raised his hand above the crowd. “Um…excuse me. Could you please fill the rest of us in on what the fuck is going on? Who are we talking about? Who’s attacking hunting parties?”
Victor rotated to face him. “Sorry. A few of our people reported a band of men in camo marauding east of the Atchafalaya. That’s all we know at this point, but one of our reports claims they’re wearing Special Forces patches. That’s all we have to go on. We don’t know for certain they’re military personnel or even that they’re on assignment from the military. They could be rogues for all we know.”
“How do we find out?” Riley asked. “We can’t exactly walk up to them and say, ‘Hey, are you guys US military or what?’ We need scouting parties to track their movements.”
“That’s what you’re all doing here.” Victor’s flinty gaze swept the assembly. “I’m splitting you folks into two posses. Riley and Malachai will take one group and stake out our targets here—on the Amite River out of Shenandoah. If you encounter them, you’re free to engage with extreme prejudice. If you can stop them from reaching Anarock, do it.”
“They could have passed the Amite River by now,” Malachai offered. “They could be halfway to Anarock already.”
“That’s why I’m deploying the second posse here—in the Joyce Wildlife Management Area.” Victor pointed to a large map spread out on the table. “Lincoln Manning, Levi Kehoe, and Brittany Wilde will spearhead the second group. If Riley and Malachai miss our targets, you’ll tail them to track their movements—nothing more. If they’re farther east, just monitor them and communicate their position to the second group. Obviously, if they assault any of our people, you can defend them. Otherwise, don’t engage. We’ll intercept them at the Joyce and throw all our forces at them there.” He squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes at them all. “Your assignments are posted on the Logistics Board. Get with your commanding officers and get yourselves armed and ready. We’ll deploy at 0800 tomorrow morning. Good luck out there.”
The assembly dissolved into a hubbub of conversation. Malachai waded through the hurrying bodies to his brother’s side. Victor nodded at him. “You ready for this?”
“You bet, but even if they are military, we won’t be able to know that for certain no matter how closely we track them. They could be outsiders masquerading as military to defame the government.”
Victor made a face. “Defame the government? That’s a good one.”
Malachai had to smile. “You know what I mean.”
“I do know what you mean and we would have to track them either way. I don’t care if they’re civilians playing war games. They already killed three of our people and injured seven humans. Get out there and stop them if you can. Otherwise, just get us
the information we need to ambush them in the Joyce. That’s all I ask.”
Riley came up. She looked up at Malachai and smirked at the bandage peeking out of his sleeve. “Did you cut yourself shaving?”
“Actually, I tripped when I was trying on my new stilettos. My wig fell over my eyes and I stumbled into the bedpost.”
Riley snorted with laughter. Victor chopped his hand between the pair. “If you two are finished fucking around, can we get back to work?”
“Of course.” Malachai and Riley turned toward the Logistics Board. A bunch of young New Breed stood around pointing at the lists. Malachai waited until Victor went off with Colonel Weeks before he murmured to Riley. “What do you think this is all about?”
“I’m not surprised, actually,” she replied. “The military keeps trying to attack Anarock in full view of the human population. That doesn’t get them very far, so now they’re sending Special Forces teams into the Quag to hunt us down one at a time. It’s exactly the kind of chickenshit maneuver they would pull.”
“If that’s true, they won’t be heading for Anarock,” he pointed out. “We have no idea if they’ll keep heading east.”
She cocked her head at him. “Good point. I guess that’s why we need a scouting party to trace where they’re going and who they’re targeting. Maybe Victor is right and they’re just a bunch of drunk shitheads with nothing better to do than to fuck with high school kids who can’t defend themselves.”
Malachai gritted his teeth and went back to observing the mob in front of the Board. Which of these kids would he be in charge of supervising? “If that’s the case, then the sooner we take ‘em out, the better. They deserve to be put in the ground even more than if they were Special Forces.”
