"It would look beautiful on you," he said. "Please, try it."
"Fifty-percent off sale," said the twenty-something dark-skinned vendor with a deep Caribbean accent, his dreadlocks draping past his shoulders. I looked over at him in protest and he winked at me.
"That means you have to try it on," Theron said as he took the dress down from the rack and put it into my hands.
He obviously chose sides, I thought as I ducked behind the rainbow colored curtain and swiped it closed.
I tugged off my regular clothes and slipped into the silken handkerchief dress. It had soft circular and angular lines patterned throughout with a halter neck that fully bared my arms and back. The fabric fell just perfectly so that when I moved my knees would flirt out. The dress fit my slender form perfectly. It was exquisite.
I combed my fingers through my light brown tangles and fanned my hair over the front of my shoulders then stepped out to show Theron.
"It won't go with my hiking boots," I said.
Both Theron's and the vendor's mouths dropped open.
I squirmed. "Yeah, I'll just change." I started to turn.
Theron protested, "No, don't. It's perfect." He smiled. "Here, give me your clothes and your boots." He stood with his hand outstretched.
I handed him my clothes, puzzled, and he immediately plunged them into my pack.
"Wait a minute," I began.
"I already paid for it—the dress is yours. Choose a pair of sandals," he said, pointing to a rack.
I started to argue, but he countered, "It's a done deal."
I chose a pair made of simple brown leather with straps that hugged my foot and ankle and a connecting single strap up the center of my foot that was accented with brown and blue beads.
I bit my bottom lip to hold back my delight. "Thank you."
"You're more than welcome, Freya," Theron said, slipping his fingers between mine as we walked away from the vendor.
Soon we arrived at Cafe Giovanni, an Italian restaurant in the heart of the French Quarter. We went inside where a tall blond waiter in a crisp white shirt and pleated black pants escorted us to an intimate corner table with a pressed white tablecloth and a flickering candle under a short glass.
Theron pulled my chair out first, and I sat as he pushed the chair underneath me and then took his own seat.
The waiter handed us two menus. "Can I get you drinks to start with?"
I looked at Theron, who shrugged slightly.
"Two colas with ice, please," I said. "And we would like two orders of your grilled chicken and portabella mushroom Alfredo, please."
He smiled pleasantly. "Certainly," he replied and disappeared around the corner.
It was only four-thirty in the afternoon and we were the first customers of the evening. The waiter came back with two long-stemmed glasses filled with cola and ice and set them in front of us.
I looked around.
"What are you looking for?" Theron asked.
I let out a sigh. Caught me, I thought. "Cameras," I admitted.
"I didn't see any inside or outside. I was checking."
"Thanks."
An Italian instrumental ballad played quietly over the restaurant's speaker. This was so special—all of it. Back in the dress shop I had to fight that nervous tremor in my stomach. Shopping like tourists was something only normal people did—definitely not me. But now, here we were together—it was like a real date. I was all dressed up, sitting at a white-clothed table in an elegant restaurant. Theron's features were illuminated in the candlelight. I couldn't get over the feeling of how special everything was.
Just then the waiter came back with two steaming white oval dishes of Alfredo and set them down on the table in front of us.
"If you need anything, let me know. I will be back to check on your meal shortly," he said and quickly walked away.
I watched Theron's face in anticipation, waiting to see his reaction to trying my favorite food.
He inhaled the rising steam. "It smells incredible." Then he twisted his fork around a pile of pasta, secured it with a small piece of chicken and a mushroom slice, blew on it and put it in his mouth. He chewed. Before he swallowed he mumbled, "This is the best thing I've ever tasted!"
I couldn't help but laugh.
We wasted no time. We politely gorged ourselves until we were stuffed.
Although we couldn't eat any more, I couldn't leave without ordering a piece of tiramisu for later—Theron had to try it. The waiter brought it back in a clear plastic container that I placed carefully into my pack. Theron paid, and we left a good tip.
Outside on the sidewalk I said, "It's going to be a really late night and we have a few hours before we can catch up with the crew we're meeting. We'll be safe resting under a tree in the garden square." Young people were always hanging out on the green grass, often with books or laptops.
We walked over and chose a magnolia tree. Theron leaned against the trunk, laid his jacket on the ground next to him for me to lie on and said, "You can put your head on my lap. I'll nap with one eye opened."
I curled up on his jacket, feeling his lingering warmth and his worn denim jeans against my cheek. His fingers played through my hair soothingly. Serenity came over me and I fell asleep.
~
"Freya." Theron's voice broke through my dreams. "It's nine o'clock."
"Oh!" I sat up with a bit of a start. Then, realizing that everything was still alright, I stretched my muscles. I could hear music in the distance and the sky was dark.
"Did you sleep at all?" I asked.
"A little," he lied.
I took the tiramisu out of my pack. "A wake up snack?" I suggested.
He was all for it. We dug in with abandon. Because of the soft consistency, the dessert wasn't easy to consume without utensils, but it sure was fun! We laughed almost the entire time, while the sweet cake slipped through our fingers as we tried to get it into our mouths. When Theron dropped some on his chin, I giggled and he wiped it away with his finger and onto my nose!
All of a sudden his laughter calmed and he said, "I never knew I could feel like this."
I looked back at him, thinking the same thing.
We finished and cleaned up with a few napkins. Fireflies were flitting along the bushes. Theron took both of our packs (which I was getting used to) and took my hand.
We walked through the upper French Quarter now. Ornate iron railings decorated with vines and leaves tangled in a dance and weaved their way elaborately around the porches and balconies of the two-story structures. Colorful American, British, French, Canadian, Caribbean and Haitian flags waved proudly everywhere. Musicians were set up on every corner playing trumpets, banjos or saxophones. Old buildings flavored the bustling city with old-world charm in a hue of vibrant colors like ice cream in a shop: orange blast, black raspberry, mint, peach julep and bubble gum.
It was said that Bourbon Street and sin were synonymous. Strings of bars and clubs lined both sides of the street with neon signs advertising drinks, dancing and girls. The streets had a pulse and rhythm all their own here. It was hypnotic, like a siren's song. The blues called out, luring you closer.
It was already nine-thirty. I skirted into an alley and rummaged through my pack.
"What are you looking for?" Theron asked.
"Knife," I said as I found it and strapped the sheath to my inner thigh. "It could get rough."
"You know that's hot, right?" Theron stated, watching me.
I smiled up at him and shook my head.
Parties were everywhere. Drunken people staggered through the streets, whooping and hollering. The smell of liquor was heady, and wisps of tobacco floated through the air. A man and woman embraced passionately, kissing against a brick building. Down a ways, two men were hurling obscenities at one another.
We turned down Toulouse Street to North Rampart. It was so thick with people that it was hard to push through. We made our way into a long line winding outside of a building that l
ooked to be a large warehouse. It didn't look like a party zone, but that's what it was. Everyone was milling about and talking so loudly you couldn't hear yourself think. Somebody pressed an unopened beer into my hand and moved on.
"Like I need this," I quipped sarcastically and handed it to a woman in a bandanna style top.
"Thanks!" she hollered over the din of the crowd.
"We have to get to the bouncer at the door," I just about shouted into Theron's ear.
He got in front of me, grasped my hand and pulled me along behind him through the throng. It was a young crowd—most everyone was between sixteen and thirty.
We got to the bouncer attending the door. He had to be over two hundred pounds of muscle and about six foot five. He was wearing a black T-shirt and had his arms folded angrily over his chest. Theron pulled me around in front of him, facing the bouncer. I smiled and, surprisingly, the stacked angry-looking guy smiled back. Every time the doors opened music flooded out from the building and into the crowd that had swelled into the street.
I pointed to my mouth and then his ear. His smile widened a bit. I cupped my hands around my mouth and came closer to his face.
"Occulta abscondito," I said as softly as possible. These were the Latin words for "hidden secret."
He sized me up for a moment, his eyes trailing up and down the front of my body—then he noticed Theron behind me and frowned.
"Go on in." He opened the door and let us through with sounds of protest firing off behind us like, "What about us?" and "We've been here for hours!"
The heavy door slammed closed behind us. I took a deep cleansing, centering breath. I didn't much like this atmosphere—it was way too volatile. People were packed in wall-to-wall like sardines. The metal music exploded through the speakers and, already, I could feel my temples begin to throb.
We squeezed our way to the bar and waited until the bartender noticed us. She had short spiked black hair and was wearing a white blouse that was unbuttoned to the top of her ribcage.
"What can I get ya?" she asked.
I followed the same routine as I had with the bouncer at the door. She said, "Follow me," and led us around to the kitchen and into the walk in freezer. She placed her hand, palm down and fingers wide, over the wall near a crate of white milk gallons. A second later, a computer keypad protruded from the wall and she typed in some kind of code. The large steel racks holding the heavy crates of milk sunk back into the wall to reveal a hidden passageway.
Chapter 12 Guardians
Theron and I stepped in as the bartender spoke. "Good luck." Her face was solemn.
The wall resealed and Theron and I were left in the pitch dark for a second before a long line of florescent lights flickered on, one after the other, to reveal a long descending steel hallway.
"What is this place?" Theron started.
"It was the brain-child of a wealthy, techy benefactor. It's where the Guardians and those associated with them meet and train."
"What are the Guardians?"
"They formed two years ago to combat the Takers. Do you remember Russ the truck driver explaining about how the Takers were coming at us now because we're weak and unprotected with our military overseas? The Guardians formed outside of the boundaries of the regular government. They're sort of like a mix between a civilian militia and a group of vigilantes. This is their main headquarters. I haven't been in touch with them for almost eight months, but they'll have the information we need to locate Scarlett—she works with them."
As we walked farther down the hallway the lights behind us shut off while the lights in front of us came on.
"Why didn't you stay with them for protection?" Theron asked.
"Mostly, I didn't want to compromise their missions. And if they ever got busted by Uncle Sam, I didn't want to be around."
We reached the end of the corridor, and I pressed my thumb directly under the last light. A small screen that had blended perfectly with the steel walls appeared and scanned my print. A tiny light blinked green three times and a large steel door slid to the side. We walked through.
It was another party zone at the moment, but not as hyped as the last place. A live blues band jammed up on a small stage on the other side of the huge room. It was like a school gymnasium. There were about two hundred people in here talking, drinking, playing pool or cards and dancing. Nothing rowdy—it was a rather conservative crowd. Most people were dressed in long pants and T-shirts; some women wore dresses, but not too many; most were clothed in formfitting black leather uniforms, inlaid with visible armor. They each had one of three symbols on their sleeve: a fiery red and orange phoenix with its wings and sharp talons spread wide, a black and gold tiger baring its teeth in a pouncing stance, or a fierce silver and green dragon breathing fire and curled around the wearer's bicep.
The age range was highly varied. I saw kids as young as thirteen and adults who appeared to be in their forties and fifties. Most everyone was fit, lean and armed with a variety of weapons. Everyone was extremely controlled, but looked like they were enjoying a little R and R.
"Would you like something to drink?" Theron asked.
"Yes, please. How about a Coke?"
"Sounds good. I'll be right back." He maneuvered his way to the bar.
I scanned the crowd to see if I could find any familiar faces. Sure enough, I found one! I crossed the room and came up behind a girl my age with long red hair and wearing a long white cotton petticoat skirt and poet shirt. I covered her eyes with my hands. She pulled them down and turned.
"Oh my Lord! Freya!" she cried and threw her arms around me in a big hug. "Girl, where have you been? We have had scouts out searching for your hind parts!"
She examined my hair and held a lock between her fingers. "Brown, huh?" She smiled and shook her head. "Last time I saw you it was black as night!" She talked loudly with a strong southern belle accent. "How long are you here for?"
I had a feeling she might let me talk now, but nope.
"Oh my goodness, have you seen Jesse? He has been goin' outa his mind frettin' on you, girl. Don't you know how to pick up a telephone?"
"Stop, Kallie!" I laughed at her barrage. "You're the first person I've seen. I wintered in Kentucky, but I didn't want to risk making contact. Sorry if I had you all worried. And, brown, because recently I've had several run-ins with the Takers."
"You were in Kentucky when they hit that bookstore?" she asked, gravely concerned.
"Yeah, and again when they attacked the bus depot in Mississippi. They're right on top of me now. How about you guys? Have there been any skirmishes? Any more details about who the Takers are or where they're coming from?"
"You'll have to discuss all of that with Jesse. He's just about head honcho around here now. He's the leader of the Dragons. I'm the executive administrator—I take care of all the paperwork, scheduling, recruit meetin's and liaisons between our organization and the government."
"The government?" I asked skeptically.
"Oh yeah! It's official," she said. "The U.S. needs the assistance of the Guardians. Their work is all sanctioned now by the Pentagon. Even Scarlett and her safe house have been authorized."
That got a wide-eyed response out of me.
"Mmm-Hmm," she nodded knowingly. "Never mind all that now! Everybody is dyin' to see you so come on!" Kallie tugged me by the arm.
"Wait! I have a friend with me. He's up at the bar."
"He," Kallie quipped. "You are going to have a very disappointed Jesse on your hands."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.
"Mmm-hmm." She eyeballed me. "I'm just sayin'. I shoulda known you were all dressed up for someone!"
"Kallie, stop it!" I scolded. "It's not at all like that." I tried to be convincing, but she wasn't having it.
"Well, come on! Let me meet him," she sang.
Reluctantly, I brought her over to the bar. Halfway there, I stopped in my tracks. Theron was surrounded by five girls who were laughing and smiling and go
o-goo eyeing him.
"HIM???" Kallie's voice rose an octave. "Oh yeah, it's not like that," she mocked.
I let a puff of air out from my cheeks and thought about how awkward it was going to be breaking through his harem. Maybe I should let him stay here and just go back to the table with Kallie, I thought.
But he saw me and immediately excused himself to get back to me.
"Mmm-hmm," Kallie breathed.
"Stop doing that!" I whispered. She just laughed.
"Hey." He smiled as he approached and handed me a glass of soda.
The girls all frowned and dispersed. Kallie suppressed a laugh.
"This is my good friend, Kallasandra. But we all call her Kallie," I said. "Kallie, this is Theron."
"Nice to meet you," Theron said, shaking her hand.
"Likewise. How did you two meet?" she asked, pointing back and forth between us with her finger and grinning widely.
"Later. We've been standing a long time; can we get to the table?" I asked.
"Fine!" she drawled out. "You can tell me all about it when we sit down."
I rolled my eyes at her and she smiled like the Cheshire cat.
As we came to the table she shouted, "Hey everybody!"
Five familiar faces turned and said, "Freya!" all at the same time. All of them jumped up from their seats and gave me bear hugs. They appeared so different from the group of kids I had met last year.
"The last time I saw all of you, you were wearing jeans and T-shirts—you guys look like a wrecking force!" I exclaimed.
They were all dressed in the matching sleek black leather armored uniforms. A few of them had one of the three identifying insignias on their arms. Each of them wore hip holsters with pistols and other weapons like knives, tasers and billy clubs.
There were a few minutes of commotion with everyone talking at once, giving me hugs and shaking me around—then all eyes fell onto the newcomer.
"Guys, this is Theron." I then went around the semi-circle, pointing out individuals. "This is Ani."
Ani had unruly blond curls pinned up at the back of her head. She was slender with fair skin and sparkling blue eyes. She and Theron shook hands.
Hunted (Dark Secrets Book 1) Page 11
