by Austin, RB
“I’m not going to call the Board. What are they going to do? They don’t have the funds to pay me. Besides the Board was the one who made the decision. The arts always get cut first.”
Jenny shook her head, pulling her phone out of her small purse. “I’m calling the union. They can’t do this to you. You have a contract.”
Emma reached over and stayed her friend’s hand. “Stop. You won’t be able to reach anyone until after the break.”
“I’ve got Patty’s home number.”
“Don’t make waves. They’ll cut PE next.”
“They can’t cut me. I’m state required.”
Emma managed a smile. “I know you want to help, but I need to focus on the future, not rewind to fix things.”
Jenny’s lips pressed tight. She put her phone back in her purse. “I won’t say anything now, but I’m going to plant my ass in Rick’s office after New Year’s. He’s going to get a piece of my mind.”
Emma opened her mouth, intending to dissuade Jenny against this crusade, when Sean reached for her hand. He’d claimed the stool on her other side. “Don’t bother. You know how Jenny is when she’s like this.”
“Yeah, I know.” She squeezed his hand, then picked up her glass, finishing it in one gulp. ”I was going to offer after school art classes to Jeremy Peters.”
At Sean’s raised eyebrows, she added. “He just lost his dad to cancer.”
“Yeah, I heard about that. Tough break. Especially with Christmas coming. How’s he doing?”
Anger spurted through Emma. It was always gas on fire with that asinine question. She bit back a retort. How did you think he’s doing? He just lost a parent! But getting mad at Sean wouldn’t help things. It’d also bring forth questions she had no desire to answer. Thankfully Jenny chose that moment to turn from the bartender who took a really long time setting her drink down in front of her. “What are you guys talking about? Oh, Emma, you need a refill. What are you drinking?”
“Just a club soda,” Emma told the bartender. The alcohol was swirling not so sweetly in her stomach at the moment.
“So what are your plans, Em?”
“Jeez, Sean, give the girl a break. She just got canned. Let her wallow in her misery for one night before she has to face the truth of no job, no income, the possibility of losing her townhouse and becoming homeless. Don’t worry, girl, you can stay with me for a few weeks. Crash on my couch. Just don’t mind the occasional bump and grind noises coming from my room.”
Emma wrinkled her forehead. She hadn’t thought about that. The homeless bit, not the sex sounds. And, ew.
Sean leaned forward, peering around her to look at Jenny. “Emma’s not going to lose her home. She’ll find a job.” He patted her back. “You’ll find a job. I’ll help you brush up your resume.”
“We’ll help you with your resume,” Jenny corrected. “Have you thought about taking some money out of retirement to tide you over?”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Emma mumbled. The bartender put a tumbler in front of her. She reached for it eagerly, hoping the carbonation would settle the queasiness.
“Have you told your parents yet?”
Emma froze, glass halfway to her lips. She shook her head before taking a huge gulp.
“I’m sure they’ll let you stay with them if you need to.”
“Jenny! Emma is not going to lose her home. I thought we were supposed to be helping her, not make her feel worse.”
“I am helping. I told her she could stay with me, which is more than you offered.”
“She knows she can stay with me.” Sean turned to Emma, support and concern softening his features. “Whenever you need to. But there’s no need to think about that right now. I’ll bet you’ll have something lined up next week.”
Jenny tried to stifle a scoff. She failed. “You’re leaving to visit with your parents tomorrow, right? We’ll start padding your resume as soon as you’re back in town.”
Emma closed her eyes and swallowed thickly. “Uh huh,” she managed.
Her friend was quiet for a moment. “I’m sure things will work out, Emma. Like Sean said, you’ll find a job real soon.”
In the HQ’s conference room, Cade glanced at the clock for the third time in ten minutes. Gabriel was late. Again.
Keeping their existence a secret was the first and most important job he had as leader of the Sept One Behnshmas. The second was to save humans from Apollyon’s Fallen. An image of the soulless beings sucking the life out of a human flashed into his head. With one mental swipe of his katana, the image, and more importantly the Fallen, were eliminated. Saving lives was exactly what Cade was trying to do, but Gabriel must have decided that hooking up was more important than their meeting.
Cade tried to convince Elias to ban socializing with humans. They deserved our protection. Sarah’s drained, lifeless form flashed in Cade’s mind. It was a memory that haunted him always. A reminder of what happened when he, when any Behn, got too close to humans. He glanced at the clock again. Neither Elias, nor Gabriel, agreed with his viewpoint.
Drumming his fingers on the table, his gaze passed over Sarid. His brother stood near the door. Anyone who didn’t know him would be glad he wasn’t sitting at the table. If the claw-like scars on both cheeks and temples didn’t scare one into nightmares for a decade, it was the unrestrained, savage look in his eyes along with the hint of something, or someone, else behind that stare. Skull and death tattoos sleeved his arms. A warning to others that without a moment’s notice he could become the world’s worst nightmare. He had a lot in common with the grim reaper tat taking up space on his upper left arm.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Cade moved his gaze to Lucas who was typing away on a laptop. His eyes traveled over the tribal mark that wrapped Lucas’s left forearm and bicep then disappeared underneath his shirtsleeve. The marks covered his whole chest and back.
Another look at the clock.
“Calm down, Cade.” Lucas said, his gaze never leaving the computer screen, voice low, soothing. “Gabe will be here soon.”
“Don’t feel me, man.” He scowled. “Save it for the Fallen or humans. Your gift,” his upper lid lifted. “Doesn’t work on me.”
“I don’t need to feel you,” Lucas said dryly, meeting his eyes then looking pointedly at Cade’s fingers thrumming the table hard enough to make it shake.
Cade snatched his hand away, clenching his fingers into a fist underneath the table.
Another glance at the clock. Fifteen minutes late. He stood. “Let’s proceed.”
A door slammed from downstairs. Cade heard Jeeves’ reverent greeting. “Good evening, adohn. They’re upstairs in the conference room.”
A few moments later Gabriel sauntered in, dressed like he was ready for the country club and not a meeting to convo about killing soulless monsters. He wore gray—not denim, pants, a black—not cotton, shirt, and a pair of shiny shoes that Cade was pretty sure cost more than his whole outfit. Gabriel’s youthful face, blue eyes, brown hair—cut every six weeks so his bangs fell perfectly onto his forehead but never in his eyes—and dimples, caused the Followers, both male and female humans, to act like Gabriel was a desert mirage and they were all dying of thirst. Why would Elias think the power to seduce any human at any time would be beneficial to the Trihune mission?
“I’m here.”
No shit. “Couldn’t decide what to wear?” Cade was unable to stop the comment from escaping. The boy just irritated him.
“I knew whatever I wore would look better than the black you’ve got going on, Boss.” He eyed Cade’s black muscle tee and faded black jeans. “I’d be happy to give you some clothes advice. It’d help you out in the Follower department. A lot.” He withdrew the chair from across Lucas and sat, placing a foot over his knee and his hands in his lap.
Gabriel knew Cade’s thoughts on human and Behn interaction. Everyone in this room knew what happened to his wife. His jaw tightened with an audible click. “Don’t call me boss.”
Gabriel tossed him a dimpled smile. “Whatever you say, Bo—Caderyn.”
He swallowed his anger and turned away from Gabriel. “Elias will be in next week,” he began, glancing at Lucas, then Sarid. “We’ll perform extra clean up in order to compensate for the time we’ll lose. I’ve tonight’s areas marked off, along with all the rest of the nights’ areas until the ritual.”
Lucas hit a couple of keys on his laptop and a map of Astoria projected onto the white board hanging on the wall near the door. Cade continued, “We’re going in as pairs for a few nights to clean the hot spots. I want every area swept before next week.”
Gabriel cleared his throat.
“Keep your communicator on at all times.”
Gabriel cleared his throat again.
“We’ll be working in a rhythmic pattern sweeping inward. If we can clean the border, force the hiding spots to become smaller, we can get them in one centralized location for easier neutralization. Sarid and I’ll be on the west side of the city. Lucas and Gabriel, you guys on the east.”
A low cough sounded to his right side.
“I realize the norm is to patrol separately, but together we’re stronger. Let’s get to it. Gear up and be ready in twenty. We meet back here at dawn. Give Jeeves your coordinates before you leave. Any questions?”
Another polite cough.
“Excellent. Let’s go kick some Fallen ass.”
“Excuse me.”
Cade stood. “You’re not excused.”
“I’ve an idea I’ve been working on,” Gabriel persisted, getting to his feet.
“I didn’t realize you had much time on your hands between fighting and screwing every Follower in the city.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Gabriel thrust his hands into his pockets and glared. “Are you gonna hear me out or is the Boss afraid I may be better at strategizing than he is?”
Cade didn’t need the reminder. He already knew he wasn’t worthy to lead. But Gabriel certainly wasn’t the better option. If the youngest Behnshma in this Sept had his way, female Followers would be strolling around the HQ like walking kegs. Cade faced Gabriel. “Nothing you come up with will ever be worthy for the mission.”
Gabriel scoffed. “Worthy? You can’t stand to look at yourself in the mirror. You hate being a Behnshma, so how can you possibly be a leader and direct us to where we need to be?”
“Gabe.” Lucas gave the sharp reprimand.
“And what we should be doing is finding Apollyon,” he continued. “Not hiding behind his Fallen because it’s safer. You’re scared to live and you’re too scared to keep on living. Safe isn’t what we’re supposed to be, it’s what we’re supposed to give. You don’t despise the way I live, you’re jealous of it. Jealous of the fact I can be with a female without . . .”
“That’s enough, Gabe.”
Gabriel’s eyes swiveled to Lucas. Hurt flashed across his face before he blanked it. “Whatever. I’m outta here. You guys can stay and take direction from the man who still thinks he’s a Follower. Who desperately wishes to be one.” He stormed out. A few moments later a door downstairs slammed shut.
“Cade,” Lucas began.
He lifted his hand, palm out. “I don’t need to talk or share my emotions. Gabriel’s little temper tantrum hasn’t even registered. What was it, like the third one this week. I swear if I didn’t know any better I’d say he was PMSing. Gear up. Sarid, I’ll meet you in the foyer.”
However many hours later, Jenny and Sean finally said goodbye. Sean was the designated driver since Jenny downed way too many martinis. Emma didn’t think her friend paid for a single one. Ridiculous.
Sean volunteered to drive Emma home, too, but her car was here plus she’d only had one more drink after her club soda. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she was leaving. And why the hell do they make bar bathrooms so small? An establishment that serves liquid beverages should have lavish plumbing facilities. Maybe she should go into bar architecture?
Emma intended to walk out the door after the bathroom trip. Really, she did. Instead, the light mood Jenny and Sean finally put her in had swirled down the toilet with her flush. Hopping back on the stool, she ignored the bartender’s oh-it’s-you-and-not-your-sexy-friend look.
“Sex on the Beach, please.” Just one more, then she’d go home.
A little while later she stumbled out the door. “Whoa.” Maybe her one, or three, more Sexes had been too much. “Right,” she mumbled, tripping on the step leading down to the sidewalk. “Walking home it is.” Although maybe a drunken stumble would be the accurate description.
She glanced at the partially covered moon and shivered. It was darker and windier than when she stepped into the bar. Flipping up the collar on her jacket, she headed in the direction of home. The fresh air would help clear the fuzziness in her brain and hopefully calm her whirling stomach. “Note to self, greasy chicken and vodka soooo do not mix.”
The drinks had fulfilled their duty, though. She was pleasantly numb. No nauseous-inducing musing about the job she no longer had. No worries about bills she’d have to pay, with no money coming in to pay them. Nope. No unpleasantries trickled through her alcoholic defense. Tomorrow she’d wake, whenever the hell she wanted to, go get her car after downing a pot of coffee and half a bottle of aspirin, then analyze the reality of life.
Emma tripped on a crack in the sidewalk, managing to gain her balance before face planting it in the concrete. Good thing the street was practically deserted. The fewer number of people to witness her walk of shame the better. Wait. Didn’t a walk of shame involve hot sex with a total stranger?
Yeah, right. Like that would ever happen. Sean had been her one serious boyfriend in the past five years. No walks of shame in college either. Pa-thetic. She was jobless, drunk, and not even one guy in the bar hit on her or tried to take advantage of her weakened state before or after Jenny arrived. What the hell?
“I ain’t a complete dog, dammit.” Opps. She wasn’t a complete dog. Wait. She didn’t have to be articulate. No longer did she work with impressionable children. She could say ain’t and got no however many times she wanted. Sleep in to noon every day, too. Of course, that’s if she planned to move into a nice sized refrigerator box in the alley between Jefferson and Wallsburg. Thanks for that worry, Jenny.
Crap. Reality was sliding through her shield.
Stumbling on a rock, she grabbed onto a light pole—thanks for being there—and hung onto it for a few minutes to allow her eyes to stop crossing before standing again.
In college a boy called her skin a rich, warm pecan color. That was nice, but he’d only been trying to get into her pants. She was average looking. Nothing special. Although special enough to have someone hit on her at Buddy’s Tavern for God sake. Maybe she’d call Jenny and ask her to pair her with a good-looking, eligible man. They could get together tomorrow.
No! Not tomorrow. Jenny and Sean figured she was spending the holidays with her parents.
Stilling, arms outstretched for balance, she waited for the pang, which normally pierced her heart at the mention of her parents. The pain was tolerable this time. Good.
Emma hiccupped. This lay off thing was a small glitch. Soon she’d be over this speed bump and back to her life of allowing no one to see the real her in no time. Meanwhile she’d continue to paint pictures for her hallway closet and not the gallery she and her father dreamed of.
Tears stung her eyes. Emma bit her bottom lip. All right. “Not enough Sexes for those thoughts.” She blinked rapidly, and with clearer eyes spotted the alley on her right. Her quite possible, s
oon-to-be new living location. It was also a shortcut, which emptied right across from her townhouse complex. Normally she’d avoid the alley at night. Astoria wasn’t a bad place, but she didn’t like to tempt the Fates. They didn’t like her much. No need to give them more ideas on how to screw up her life.
Nearing the break she slowed. The night had been quiet. Going through the alley should be fine. Besides her head pounded and all she wanted was to climb into bed and sleep.
She reached into her purse and withdrew her cell phone. If she ran into trouble, she’d call 911.
Cade and Sarid patrolled a dark, deserted stretch of sidewalk in a residential part of the city. Fallen would often lie in wait for Followers to arrive home after dark, or they’d lure them outside with a baby crying or trashcans falling over. The humans would fall for it and lose their life, or if they were lucky, have their asses saved by Astoria’s Sept One Behns, which would win them a fabulous one-way trip down Memory Wipe Lane. The unfortunate side effect: they’d have no recollection of the incident and would most likely fall for it again.
Cade’s gaze traveled over the dark houses, with eyes and ears alert.
He and Sarid shared only a handful of words since they left the HQ three hours ago. When his brother had something to say, he’d say it. If not, he didn’t fill the air with worthless chatter. Heavenly. Lucas and Gabriel acted like girly BFFs most of the time
Cade stiffened. There was a slight ring in his ears. Fallen. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the left. There. Opening his eyes, he pointed. “About eight miles. Southwest.” They broke into a silent run, moving in sync.
When the ringing grew loud enough to become annoying, he slowed. The Fallen were near. Sarid reached for opposite holsters at his waist and removed two daggers, their ivory handles carved with ancient words and symbols.
Cade reached behind his left shoulder, grabbed the handle of his katana and pulled. It slid silently free from the scabbard. He also had a dagger strapped to his ankle, another to his upper thigh, three throwing stars, a pair of brass knuckles, and his Berretta, all in their own holsters. The katana was his favorite, though. With his palm clasping the handle he transcended to a place of heightened senses. Fangs punched out of his gums and his eyes glowed, increasing his sight.
