Tala

by Adrianna Morgan

  “What?” Martin asked.

  Layla doubled over, still laughing. “It’s in black and white.”

  “So?”

  “Werewolves see in black and white in the dark.”

  “So?” He said again.

  “How very canine of them.”

  Martin rolled his eyes.

  *

  Layla hung up the phone when her call went straight to voicemail. That meant one of two things, either Brett’s phone was turned off or he’d deliberately forwarded her call. Either way, he was not scoring any brownie points with her. She was starting to feel frustrated. It was day two since she’d last seen or heard from him. He hadn’t called, texted, nothing. He could have sent a message via passenger pigeon and she would have been happy. But no, she got nothing. She was stuck in his apartment, with nothing to do but practice her Were skills and even that was getting old. Not to mention, she was worried about him. Regardless of how well he thought he could handle Weres, she was afraid he was out there hurt and all alone. She would never forgive herself if he ended up in the hospital or worse. She threw the cell phone back onto the bed. As much as she wanted to throw it against the wall, she couldn’t; that would be a waste of a perfectly good cell phone.

  She could always track him using Sensationism. That way, technically, she could stay out of his way and she could see if he was okay. And she would still be practicing using her powers. It was a win-win situation. She put on a pair of comfortable sweats, a t-shirt and her sneakers. Just in case she was on a rescue mission, she thought. She walked to the living room and sat on the couch, adjusting so that she was in her most comfortable position. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, allowing the scent she’d identified as his to drift into her nostrils.

  She could see his colors in his scent band. They were all through his apartment. She concentrated, trying to find the most recent. The reds and oranges stood out against the gray background. One connection was particularly strong and she focused on that trail. She watched as the trail moved down the hall, down the stairwell and into the street. She followed, not realizing when she’d moved from the couch or when she’d exited the apartment. She was on a mission.

  Layla followed the scent trailed as it moved down the block. As she walked, her eyes remained unfocused and she was only slightly aware. That was enough for the Were to slip behind her. He followed at a discrete distance, his nose in the air, trying to pick up the scent she was following. It was an unusual one, but that was not his business.

  He was instructed to follow the girl and report her movements back to his boss. He watched the girl cross a set of railroad tracks before heading across an open area where an abandoned apartment building stood condemned. She kept walking, eyes open and unblinking as they moved further and further away from her apartment.

  Layla stopped as the trail suddenly went cold. She blinked and looked around. She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and quickly turned her head. Nothing. She released a quick breath. She was about twenty minutes away from the apartment. In the middle of the nowhere. What the hell was Brett doing here? She wondered. She decided to cast a wider scent net to see if she could pick up on his trail again. This time, she managed to pick up his scent leading from an apartment a few blocks away. She didn’t want to question why he would be here but she had a feeling it probably had to do with finding Suzette.

  Back in her almost trance-like state, she followed his scent colors again, this time heading out towards the financial district. She wandered. Minutes turned into hours as she trudged all over the city following his trail. She went onto a city bus in the financial district, got off on a stop near a school, took a cab to a club until finally, she stood in front of the apartment complex that seemed to have his scent all over it.

  It was a lot different from the apartment she shared with him. In fact, this one screamed money. The big wrought iron gates barred just anyone from entering and the security booth supported that idea. She watched the armed guard look at the identification of an unknown driver and opened the gate. He was definitely not a Were. She looked back at the gate, and then noticed a woman walking her dog along the interior. The woman waved to the guard and he waved back smiling. She stopped to pick up the gift her dog had left and gently chided him in a soft Southern accent.

  Layla watched the woman for a few more minutes until she rounded a hedge and disappeared out of sight. She would have to use Transformation. She closed her eyes and concentrated, keeping an ear cocked for the gun-toting security guard. Her body started humming and the sensation came back. She ran a hand down her thin body, she was done.

  She maintained an air of confidence as she walked up to the gate.

  “Good evening Ms. Rosenbaum.” He touched a finger to his hat. “Did you forget something?”

  Layla smiled. “Good eve’ning.” Her eyes widened at her pronounced accent. “You’re going to think I’m silly, but I thought I saw something out here and totally left my key. Can you let me into the building?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, and then stopped when he gave her a funny look.

  “No, problem, Ms. Rosenbaum,” He replied. “I can set you up with a loaner for tonight, but you have to report the lost key to management tomorrow to get a permanent replacement.” He made a note in the logbook and gave her a key.

  With a wave, Layla unlocked the gate and walked into the apartment compound. Within seconds of entering the gate, Layla could feel the effects start to wear off. She quickly walked out of sight of the guard house in the direction Ms. Rosenbaum went. Seconds later, Layla felt the strange humming sensation wear off as she changed back.

  In doubt, she hung back, sniffing the air, trying to find his scent trail from a distance. She saw the trail disappear into a ground floor apartment a few buildings away. She hesitated. This had seemed like a great idea in the beginning, but now she felt a bit like a stalker. Granted, she had his best interest at heart, but now that she was here, she had the feeling that he wasn’t in any danger.

  So why was he not answering her calls. It’s not like he was attacked. He was not the one everyone else was trying to kill. She tossed her head, straightened her back and walked in the direction of his scent. She followed the trail to the apartment and stood outside the door, in the shadows the stairwell provided. She chewed her bottom lip, deep in thought.

  Now what? Did she simply knock, paste a smile on her face and say, hi, I wondered if Brett was here? She contemplated a moment longer, and then turned to leave, her mind uneasy. Suddenly, the door opened and Brett emerged from the apartment, his hair disheveled. Layla stared at the surprise and then pain in his eyes as he looked back at her. Before she could utter a word, a half-clothed woman walked into the living space behind him, her long blonde hair streaming behind. She paused and stared at Layla.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  *

  Layla felt sick. She wanted to throw up. Really. The rocking of the speeding taxi did little to help settle a stomach roiling from pain and anger. She’d spent days waiting for him to call and instead he was fucking some other chick. He was such a fucking asshole. She remembered his look when he opened the door, surprise and then pain with a touch of fear. He had something to fear all right. He was lucky she had been in shock; otherwise she would have kicked his ass. She bit her lip, determined not to cry. She should be used to people using her. She never had any real friends anyway and Brett was just another on a long list. She shrugged; at least she didn’t tell him something stupid like she loved him. That would have been embarrassing.

  The girl had stared at her too, even after she’d asked who Layla was. She watched Brett as he looked at her and simply closed the door in her face, his eyes unreadable. She had wanted to bang on the door and scream his name. She had wanted to ask him why. She had wanted to claw the girl’s eyes out. Instead she stood there on the other side of the door, his scent lingering in her nostrils for a moment, and then turned on her heel.

  She thought she s
aw a flash of something in the corner of her eye, but she was too pissed and hurt to think straight. He had closed the door in her face. How much more of a hint did she need? Layla wasn’t a fool. She’d been dumped before. But this had a coldness that was uncharacteristic of Brett.

  Jolting back in her seat as the cab stopped in front of her apartment, she pulled a wad of bills from her pocket, handed it to the cab driver to pay her fare and exited the cab. She walked into Brett’s apartment and started to gather her things. She had nowhere to go. She had no friends who would talk to her at the moment. She had no idea where Martin lived and she was not about to stay here and listen to Brett’s lies when he returned. She was done.

  Almost panicked she thumbed through a phone book and made reservations at a local motel. It was cheap and for now, she had some place to sleep. Tomorrow she would figure out what to do for the rest of her life. She refused to give in to the tears threatening to drown her. She was stronger than that. She closed her eyes and concentrated, effectively sealing her emotions deep within her. She needed to have a clear head.

  As she left Brett’s apartment, she took a last look around and she had the feeling of being watched. This time, without the distraction of her intense emotions, she could feel the eyes as they watched her head for her car, sadly abandoned in the parking lot. She shivered and walked faster, stopping only when she’d reached her vehicle. She tossed her things into the back seat and hopped into the car, enjoying the relative safety of the metal and fiberglass.

  She let her senses take over as she began to scan the area. She could see his scent colors intermingling with hers and gasped involuntarily. He’d been following her all night. She continued her scan and then stopped when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She opened her eyes in time to see the yellow eyes of a Were peering at her through the car window.

  He smiled, yellowed fangs that dripped before he spoke, the words rumbling up out of his chest. “My mistress sends her greetings.” He raised a clawed hand to the window, the glass screeching before it shattered, spraying Layla with shards. “She says your time is up.”

  *

  Brett closed the door in Layla’s face, hoping she would forgive him and understand. Shit! He had felt her presence the minute she’d walked up to the building. Why couldn’t she have left it alone? Why did she track him here? He had a buddy keeping an eye on her and she seemed fine. He couldn’t answer his phone, but she hadn’t left any messages, so he knew she was okay. So what the hell was she doing here? He turned to face the blonde. She stared at him with her hand on her hip.

  “Who the fuck was that?” she asked, her lips in a pout.

  Brett shrugged. “Who knows? She looked kinda strung out.” He walked back to her and playfully slapped her butt before flopping back onto the couch. “What kind of people you have living in this place again?” he asked, shaking his head.

  She eyed him, her gaze focused and he stared back and arched an eyebrow before grabbing the remote and flipping on the TV. You may think you’re good, he thought as he moved his gaze from hers, but I’m better.

  She walked over to him, blonde hair swinging and sat next to him on the couch. “Can you help me with this bra?” she asked with a sultry voice. “I can’t seem to get it unfastened.”

  Brett looked at her, refusing to eye what she had spent two days offering. “The clasp is in the front.”

  She giggled and looked down. “Oh yeah, sorry about that. I totally forgot.” She stood in front of him, blocking his view of the TV and stretched, her breasts rising slightly under the racy black lace.

  She straddled his lap and Brett had to force himself not to push her away. “You know, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

  Brett forced a smile to his lips as he playfully lifted her from his lap. “Yeah, but what she does know might kill me.”

  She giggled again and flounced out of the room, her jeans low enough on her hips so that he could see the two dimples in her lower back.

  He sighed and stretched out on the couch again and grabbed the pillow and blanket he’d tossed to the floor when he had sensed Layla. He was getting the information he needed from Amy, but she was taking her slow time in giving it. At any other point in his life, he would have just taken what Suzette’s little cousin had been offering, but now that he’d met Layla, well, things were a bit more complicated. He would have to bide his time. He just hoped Layla would do the same.

  *

  Layla walked behind the Were who had transformed back into his human form and stumbled as she stared up at the impressive building. Located in one of the elite areas of Tampa, the nearest neighbor was less than twenty feet away. Suzette did not play it safe. She was reckless, but she had good taste, Layla thought as she grudgingly admired the house. It was a modern twist on the old southern plantation style home and the white columns stood out against the dark of the night.

  She could see one of Suzette’s minions lounging there, his form impressive even as a human. He wore a black jacket that did little to hide the gun tucked into the waistband. Good lord, the neighbors probably thought Suzette was the mafia, she thought, noticing how the curtains hid the occupants from view. A low growl broke her musings. She looked back at the Were and swallowed, dutifully following him as they entered the house.

  If she thought the outside was impressive, the inside was even more so. She stared at a crystal chandelier that stood above the marble floor in the foyer. It twinkled in the moonlight and she shivered at how the coldness reflected Suzette. She walked down the main hallway, and passed Weres in varying forms of inebriation and Transformation. She was led up a wide staircase and shuddered as she saw the family portrait that still hung there. The man was smiling as he clasped his wife close, their three children standing behind the sofa the adults sat on. She noticed a red smudge near the bottom corner of the portrait and averted her eyes.

  The Were led her to a door at the top of the stairs. Here the curtains were drawn wide open and the moonlight streamed in. Suzette sat behind a wide mahogany desk, her long legs resting lightly off the edge and her hair tossed back as she exhaled the smoke from the cigar she clasped in her hand. Behind her another family portrait had four long gashes running through it and the imprint of a bloody hand at the base. Layla shuddered again.

  Suzette stared at her hard. “Well, what is your answer?” She threw the cigar into the fireplace and chuckled as the Were with Layla watched it in longing. Layla noticed Suzette’s claws lengthening and squared her shoulders, the movement not lost on Suzette.

  Suzette chuckled again and arched an eyebrow, as she tapped her claws on the table. “Waiting.”

  Layla cleared her throat. “Okay, yes. I’m in.”

  Chapter 8

  Suzette stared at Layla. She tapped her nails again on the polished wood surface. “You are either smarter than I thought or even dumber.” She walked towards the door, forcing Layla to turn around.

  “I haven’t decided yet. But if this a trick dreamed up by you and Martin,” Suzette paused, and then flashed a quick smile, “Well, let’s just say that things could get very interesting. For you, at least.” She walked away, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

  Layla took a deep breath, relieved. She wasn’t sure that Suzette would still want her, but at least she knew where she stood with Suzette. She didn’t like Layla and Layla didn’t like her, and she didn’t pretend. She turned to see the Were straightening up from the fireplace as he palmed the remnants of the cigar that Suzette had tossed in. He growled threateningly at her and she raised her hands in mock surrender.

  “Hey, I didn’t see anything.”

  He snarled, his top lip quivering as he slowly let his fangs descend. “Remember that,” he growled again before grabbing her arm. “Come on.”

  Layla walked behind him, her arm still smarting from his rough grab. “Where are we going?” she asked. They walked down another corridor in a completely different wing of the house.

  He ignored h
er, picking up his pace as if he couldn’t rid himself of her fast enough. She plowed into his back when he stopped suddenly. He whirled on her and she felt herself held against the wall by her throat. “I could kill you where you stand,” he growled before releasing her and throwing her out of his way. He reached out and opened the door to the small room.

  She rubbed her neck, still a bit raw from the last time she had been attacked and looked into the little room. Located at the back of the house, she thought it might have been a maid’s room at some point. It contained a tiny bed, a single armoire and a mirror over a sink in the corner. A closed door hid what she thought could only be a small bathroom and she thanked God for small miracles.

  The Hilton, it was not, but at least she didn’t have to worry about anyone attacking her anytime soon. She paused. Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about Kuruk and his minions attacking her soon. Suzette was another story, but Layla figured if she stayed out of sight and did what she was told, she would have no problems with Suzette. It wasn’t as if she was a threat to the more powerful women. She knew it and she had a feeling that Suzette knew it too.

  Her door opened brusquely and Layla jumped as another Were stood in the opening. He poked his head in. “Suzette wants to see you in ten minutes.” He withdrew and closed the door, reopening it a second later. “In the downstairs conference room,” and closed the door again.

  So much for privacy, she thought, resisting the urge to flop onto the little bed. She opened the door to what she hoped was the bathroom and gave a sigh of relief as she took in the small shower and toilet. She walked over to the sink and splashed water onto her face and quickly rinsed out her mouth to freshen up before she went to seek Suzette in the ‘downstairs conference room.’

  Layla kept her face impassive as she walked into the converted dining room. The low growls made her stomach flutter wildly as she passed, but she kept her emotions at bay. She knew she was the outsider here and somehow realized that things would go better for her if she did not let them see—or smell—her fear. She also knew that Suzette would be no help to resist these Weres. It was either do or die.