Tala

by Adrianna Morgan

  Layla opened her eyes to the bright light streaming from the overhead fluorescent bulb. The room smelled clean; traces of bleach and antiseptic reaching her nostrils. Her head throbbed rhythmically with the beeps emitting from a machine to her left. She turned her head away from the lights to face the window and saw Brett as he stood there, his head pressed against the glass. His back was ramrod straight, the veins in his arms and neck taut.

  Memories flashed in and out of her head as she thought back to when she’d called him. She didn’t know how long it was until he had found her, but she remembered him cradling her as his tears fell onto her face. She’d felt his rage as he’d carried her out of the wrecked apartment and into the car. He’d raced to the hospital; her hand grasped in his and had talked to her, his voice soothing. When they arrived at the hospital, Brett had carried her tenderly into the emergency room, where the hospital staff had quickly placed her on gurney and wheeled her into a room. She remembered the staff nurse stopping him and questioning him and she saw her own arm reaching for him. He’d told them that someone had broken into her apartment and after confirming he’d been at work at the time, he’d been allowed to see her. He’d held her hand until she’d fallen asleep.

  Now he stood staring out the window, in the same clothes he’d worn when she’d been admitted to the hospital, a backpack and pillow laying on the couch next to him. Layla stared at him, her body longing for his touch, even though pain ravaged her body. It was scary how much she was drawn to him; to his touch, to his voice. She wanted all of him. She felt her heart start to race and her body grew hot. Instead of lust, she felt a need to possess him. Her blood felt on fire and to her amazement, she could feel her body start to change.

  “Don’t.”

  Brett’s voice stopped Layla in mid transformation.

  “You have to be careful. You don’t want to transform just anywhere.”

  Layla head jerked up in surprise. He was still facing the window, but he slowly turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers.

  “They’ve already detected the anomaly in your blood. You don’t want to give them further cause to keep you here.” He jerked his head toward the camera nestled in the ceiling.

  Layla stared at him. He knew what she was. She already knew that he had seen her change the first time, well, kinda. But he seemed to really know. And he knew the terminology. Her eyes narrowed. He knew. She felt her heart start to constrict. Why had he lied to her?

  Brett could feel Layla closing up and moving away from him. He knew this wasn’t the best time…or way, to tell her but he didn’t want her transforming in front of the cameras. He didn’t know what would happen to her if she did. He walked over to her and held her hand, his heart breaking as Layla turned her head away from him. He could see the tears snaking out of her eyes and he felt like such as ass for lying to her and keeping her in the dark.

  “Why?” Layla croaked, her voice dry.

  Brett released her to lean over and grab a plastic cup from the tray next to her bed. He took his time as he filled the cup with water, his mind trying to find a way to answer her question. He understood she would be upset but he wanted her to understand his viewpoint.

  “Why, Brett?” She asked again.

  Brett shrugged, “Layla, I needed to know whose side you were on. I needed to know if you could be trusted and if you were in allegiance to Suzette.”

  Layla’s eyes widened at the mention of Suzette’s name. Not only did he know about the Weres, he even knew Suzette. She remembered her dream. The one where Brett and Suzette lay intertwined on the bed, both bodies glistening and gloriously naked. She closed her eyes, opening them when she felt the brush of the cup against her lips. She took a long swallow, grateful for the soothing liquid and coughed a little as the water went down her throat.

  “How do you know about Suzette?”

  Brett sighed and closed his eyes as he ran a hand through his dark hair. “It was a long time ago, Layla. I really don’t want to get into it.”

  Layla stared at him incredulously, “You don’t want to get into it? You lied to me and pretended you didn’t know what was happening to me. And now you don’t want to get into it!” She coughed again as her throat rebelled against her raised voice. “You owe me an explanation.”

  Brett took a deep breath. He did owe her. But he still could not tell her everything. It wasn’t the right time. And if the Weres who attacked her came back, Layla might say something inadvertently and they would know everything about him. That could not happen. Layla had no idea what she was caught up in and the war hadn’t even started to wane yet. He cleared his throat as he felt Layla’s eyes bore a hole through him. He opened his mouth to speak, relieved when the door opened and a nurse walked in.

  “Hey,” she said to Layla, “Feeling better?”

  Layla nodded, turning her head away from Brett to face the nurse. She dutifully allowed the nurse to check her bandaged arms and neck, answered the few questions asked and swallowed the offered pain pill. She watched Brett as the nurse checked her charts, fluids and finally left the room.

  “Brett?”

  Brett turned to face her. “We’ll talk about this later,” he said, watching the open door. “When we have a bit more privacy.”

  Layla nodded. She had so many questions burning in her mind and she wanted to be able to ask all of them. Right now though, she was feeling the effects of the drugs the nurse had slipped her and her eyes closed in sleep.

  *

  Layla sipped the herbal tea Brett gave her. It was a delicious brew of key lime and mango leaves with a touch of mint and honey. It warmed her body and soothed her throat. She’d spent one more night in the hospital and Brett had stubbornly refused to talk about anything Were related until she checked out earlier that day. Now she lay on the bed of the hotel room he’d booked in downtown Tampa, an hour’s drive from her apartment and a safe haven, for the moment. She looked out at the Tampa skyline; the buildings lit up against the night casting the room into shadow. Brett stood at the window again, staring out into the night. She quietly sipped her drink, waiting for him to broach the subject they needed to discuss.

  As if he’d heard her thoughts, Brett turned around and walked toward her. He sat down on the bed and pulled her feet into his lap. Layla didn’t struggle. She wanted to feel his hands on her skin and she relished his touch. His hands burned her legs as the heat from them seared her skin and she sighed. He raised her legs to his lips and kissed them softly before returning her feet to his lap and running his hand through his hair.

  “So?” she said, breaking the silence as she set the tea on the nightstand next to the bed.

  “So,” Brett echoed, a grimace on his face. “I guess I got some ‘splaining to do,” he said in a mock Ricky Ricardo accent. He looked at Layla’s face before continuing. “I guess you want to know why I didn’t tell you I knew about the Weres?”

  Layla nodded, one eyebrow raised sardonically.

  Brett sighed. Layla was not making this easy. She’d been silent on the drive here and had only nodded when he’d asked her if she wanted a cup of tea. He knew he deserved it but this level of cool was unlike the Layla he knew. “I know about the Weres. I know about the history.” He indicated himself, “In case you can’t see it, I’m part Native American too and I have the same blood running in my veins as you do.” He saw the confusion in Layla’s eyes. “Don’t worry, I am not of Mai-coh’s lineage. I can’t transform.”

  “Then how do you know about the others?” Layla asked.

  “I met Suzette when I was in high school,” Brett laughed. “I was a wannabe rebel, had just discovered I was part Native American.” He looked up at Layla, meeting her eyes with a wry smile. “I lived with my mom who is Hispanic, never really knew that the dark hair was from Native American ancestry as well.” He shrugged. “Suzette was…well, she wanted me and I wanted her. Things were going well that night and then she bit me. She dug her claws into me and bit me. Left me for dead in a motel ro
om.”

  Layla gasped. Although it hurt to hear that her boyfriend had been intimate with Suzette, she still needed to know as much as she could before he decided telling her about him was a bad idea. She knew Suzette was psychotic, but he was just a kid when she had bit him and leaving Brett to die alone in a motel room was just plain wrong. She cleared her throat. “What happened?”

  Brett shrugged again, “Someone found me, and I got better.” His fingers tightened a bit around Layla’s legs. “I have no love lost for Suzette. I spent years looking for her to get even. I finally tracked her here. I had a friend of a friend of a friend who told me she was here recruiting and I came here to find her. In fact, if I see her again, I think we might finally end our relationship.” He looked at Layla again. “And not in a good way.”

  Layla stared at the man she strongly suspected she was falling in love with. “Why didn’t you tell me this? Any of it? I was going crazy, having strange dreams, feeling like I was being stalked. I needed you and you pretended as if everything I was experiencing wasn’t real and like I was the only one.”

  “I wanted to protect you. There is a war and we are trapped in the middle. Everyone wants you on their side.” He leaned over to stroke her face. “Layla, I promise I will get Suzette. She will pay for hurting you.”

  “Suzette didn’t hurt me,” she told him and he froze.

  “What?” He waved a hand to her bandaged body, “Who did all this?”

  Layla’s hand went to her throat, “I mean, Suzette hurt my neck and throat, but she didn’t attack me.”

  Brett snorted, “Of course she didn’t. She sent others to do her work.”

  Layla rolled her eyes. “No, I mean, she didn’t send them to attack me. She asked me to join her, but she told me she’d give me a week to make up my mind.” She stopped talking as Brett gave a humorless laugh. “Brett, don’t patronize me,” she warned. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

  He rubbed her cheek. “I know baby, but you don’t know Suzette. She is a liar, a murderer, and just plain evil.”

  “She may be all those things Brett, but she didn’t send anyone to attack me.” Layla insisted. She knew Suzette was everything Brett had described but she also knew that when it came to pain and torture, Suzette would probably rather join than delegate. “I know this because the Weres who broke into my apartment warned me that their boss wanted me to stay away from Martin and Suzette.”

  She felt Brett tense as her words. The implication finally set in. There was someone else, someone besides Suzette who wanted her. They had no idea who.

  “I take it Martin is the old guy?” He asked slowly.

  Layla nodded, hurt in her eyes. He knew about Martin as well and he’d still pretended. She felt betrayed. It didn’t matter that he thought he was protecting her, she’d needed him emotionally and he’d neglected and lied to her. She needed to be able to trust him and he had showed her she couldn’t do that. She wondered if he knew about her being Mai-coh’s daughter. Would he believe the old god was still stuck on Earth? Or would he think she was listening to stories and folklore? She shoved all this to the back of her mind as he started to speak.

  “Is he the one that has been training you?”

  Layla nodded then asked, “How do you know I’ve been training?”

  Brett smiled. “Because you fought back. Most untrained Weres don’t fight back; they die instead.”

  Layla shuddered, but she had the feeling Brett was still holding something back. She felt the hesitation in his words as if he was trying to find the right words to explain the situation to her so that she wouldn’t question him too much. Her eyes narrowed. He knew more than he was telling her. Martin had told her to trust her instincts and right now they were telling her Brett wasn’t giving her the whole truth. She would bide her time and wait.

  Brett couldn’t tell if Layla was buying his story. But he couldn’t tell her everything. If he did, he might place her in more danger than she was right now. He knew that the only person who might suspect something was the old guy—Martin, but even he didn’t know the entire truth. Best to keep some things a secret until it was time for it to be revealed, he thought, watching Layla’s lowered lids. He could see fatigue creeping up on her and the pill he’d mixed into her tea was starting to take effect. She was getting sleepy. Pretty soon he would be able to leave and try to figure out who was trying to kill Layla and where the hell Suzette and her pack were hiding.

  When Layla awoke again, it was early morning. She knew she had to go to work and as much as she hated to do so, she had to talk to Cantrell and show her the bruises and the police report. That might be the only way to hold her job. She looked around for Brett, noting the neat sheets still tucked in on his side of the bed. Either he’d slept on the couch or he hadn’t slept at all. She called his cell phone, frowning as it went straight to voicemail. She called again, left a message and walked into the shower. As she dressed, she checked her voicemail, noting the missed calls from Shawna. Twenty minutes later, she’d left the hotel and was on her way to Gulfport and her apartment.

  Layla pushed past the yellow police tape across her door. She opened the door and stepped into her apartment. Pieces of broken glass lay scattered on the floor of her kitchen. Her door had deep scratches embedded in the wood and blood stained several walls. There were blood droplets on the floor and the island and bar that separated her kitchen and living room was broken almost in half. She could smell the powder the police had used to dust for prints but knew it was useless. The prints would be elongated at best if they did manage to pull any. She knew they would have no luck.

  Trying to forget about the traumatic experience, Layla ran into the bedroom where she quickly changed and bandaged her arms. She was glad it was fairly cool outside, so she was able to pull off a light scarf to cover and the disguise the bandages and bruising on her neck. A light cardigan and slacks hid the damage to her arms and legs. The only thing she couldn’t hide was the four thin lines that ran down the side of her face. They were faint but visible and in plain sight. She sighed. She couldn’t hide the scars short of wearing a ski mask, but that wasn’t going to happen. She had never been a vain person, but seeing the scars reminded her of how violated she had been in her own home…and how close she’d come to death. She hurriedly walked out of the apartment, careful to lock the door behind her.

  As she stepped out onto the landing, someone flew at her. Layla jumped back in surprise then held up her arms as she was attacked. Her assailant grabbed her, pulling at her hair and clawing her. She pulled back to see Tami with fire in her eyes as she hit Layla.

  “What the fuck, Tami?” She yelled, as she started to get pissed. “What are you doing?”

  Tami stopped and stared at her, breathing hard. “You fucking whore!” She yelled at Layla. “You fucking cheap ass whore!” She tried to spit in Layla’s face but stopped short after she saw the anger building on Layla’s face. “You couldn’t leave him alone could you?”

  Layla walked up to Tami. “What the fuck did I do?” She asked.

  Tami stared at her in disgust. “As if you didn’t know,” she said starting to walk away. “You fucked Derek last night.”

  *

  Chapter 6

  Layla walked into the Administration office, her mind on Tami’s words. Why the hell would Tami think she would want to fuck Derek? He wasn’t the ugliest guy, but he was such a moronic asshole that she had never thought twice about not dating him. He’d asked her out when she’d first moved in and she’d considered it until she found out he was dating Tami. That dick move earned him a place on her shit list and he wasn’t leaving it anytime soon.

  She hurried to Cantrell’s door, relieved that the office was empty except for her supervisor and one other employee. She walked in as Cantrell bade her to enter and stopped short at Cantrell’s shocked look. She smiled wryly as she noticed Cantrell staring at her scars. Cantrell’s eyes narrowed as she took in the cardigan sweater Layla wore that bunched a bit in
the arms from the bandages and the white that peeked beneath the scarf wrapped about her neck.

  “Ms. Donovan?” Cantrell asked quietly.

  Layla shrugged. “My apartment was broken into this weekend.” She held out her arms. “I happened to be home at the time.”

  “Ms. Donovan,” Cantrell narrowed her eyes, “I thought we spoke about your experimenting with drugs.”

  Layla smiled tightly. “I don’t do drugs, Mrs. Cantrell.”

  Cantrell stared at her, lips pressed together in a thin line. “Yet all this bad luck seems to just follow you. Your apartment got broken into? Of all the people, they choose to break into your apartment. I wonder why, Ms. Donovan. I wonder why.”

  Layla could feel her temper starting to get the best of her. “Ms. Cantrell, I have told you constantly that I have never done drugs. Yet you insist on besmirching my character. That is not acceptable. I have not been anything but professional, both here and at home because I know that I still represent this College.” She pulled a folded envelope out of her pocket. “Because I somehow knew you would have something to say about drugs, I have both my toxicology screen and my police report for you to look at. If there is a problem, I am certain you, me and the director of Administration can take a look together.” She smiled.

  Cantrell angrily took the envelope and dropped it on her desk. “If that is all Ms. Donovan, you do have a job. For now.” She stared at Layla with disgust. “Please go back to your desk; you’ve got lots of work to do.”

  Somehow, Layla knew that Cantrell would be good on her promise. She’d been at her desk for less than five minutes when her phone rang with Cantrell barking orders. Layla was too tired and confused to argue with her boss. Her medication was making her drowsy and she was starting to feel a dull, throbbing ache in her arms. She concentrated on blocking out the pain, focusing all her energy on staying on her feet. Her cell phone buzzed in her bag and she picked it up, looking at the display. Brett.

  Can’t talk right now, she texted.