The Mistwalker (Dark Tales Book 2)

by Regine Abel

  “Thank you, Jade,” Kazan said, his voice like a caress. “We should celebrate! How about dinner and a movie on Friday evening? I’ve heard good things about that new superhero movie…”

  Oh God! Is he asking me out on a date?

  “Mutant Uprising?” I asked, trying to sound casual about it despite my urge to squeal. “I’d love to! I’d actually planned on going to see it this weekend.”

  “Awesome! Any food preferences?”

  “Surprise me,” I said. “I eat anything, except insects and food that’s still moving on my plate.” He chuckled, making me smile. “Fancy and stuck up places aren’t my cup of tea either.”

  “Noted. I’ll call you tomorrow with the exact time and place. Does that work for you?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “All right. Have a good evening, Jade. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Good night, Kazan.”

  After he hung up, I stared disbelieving at my phone for a few moments, then screamed like the fangirl I denied being. All thoughts of painting forgotten, I raced to my bedroom to start looking for the perfect outfit to wear on our date; casual with some understated chic flair.

  As promised, he called me the day after to confirm our plans. Normally, I would have been at my Zumba fitness class like every Wednesday, but I might have missed his call had I been in the middle of dancing. Then I suffered through the endless wait until Friday evening.

  Wanting to surprise me—as per my request—he came to pick me up in a cab. He texted me as they pulled up to the house. I stepped out to find him standing by the vehicle, looking ridiculously sexy in a pair of black, slim biker jeans, an artfully distressed, black shirt, and heavy, black boots. His hair pulled back in a tail, revealed the silver rings in each of his pierced ears and the perfect bone structure of his stunning face.

  My asymmetrical little black dress and medium heeled black sandals seemed the perfect match to his rebel outfit.

  “You look stunning,” he said, while holding the door for me.

  Not sure how to greet him, I was relieved when he placed a hand on my hip and leaned forward to kiss my cheek.

  “You don’t look too shabby yourself, Mr. Dale,” I said while entering the car and scooting over to make room for him.

  “Why thank you, Ms. Eastwood,” Kazan said while taking a seat next to me.

  For a second, I wondered how the heck he knew my last name, then remembered that it was written on my business card.

  Kazan signaled for the driver to go. As he didn’t give him the name or address of our destination, I assumed he’d already done so before I arrived. We made casual conversation during the twenty minute drive downtown. He smelled and looked good enough to eat. Lucky for him, we pulled up in front of the Golden Wings, barbecue and grill, before I could lose control and jump him.

  “Is this where we’re going?” I asked, pointing at the winged sign of the restaurant after he finished settling with the driver.

  “Yes,” he said with a cautious look in his eyes. “I hope that’s not a problem?”

  “Are you kidding me? I looooove Golden Wings!” I said, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m a sucker for ribs and chicken wings, and they make the best ones for miles around!”

  Kazan beamed at me. “Then let’s not delay any further and get you some barbecue.”

  He took my hand so naturally I didn’t resist as he led me into the restaurant. While it attracted a casually-chic clientele, it didn’t cater to poor patrons. With the steep price of meat, I only came here once or twice a year, usually for special occasions. The wooden décor, muted lighting, and padded booths made for the ideal romantic dinner.

  A pretty brunette came to take our order. Her eyes lingered on Kazan who paid her no attention, his entire focus on me. He was scoring brownie points with me by the shovel full. At my request, we started off with a giant onion bloom.

  “Anything to drink?” the waitress asked.

  “Sangria for me, please.”

  She nodded and turned to Kazan whose gaze seemed to go blank for a second.

  “I’ll have the same,” he said, after a beat.

  She left to fetch our drinks while we browsed the menu.

  “What will you have?” I asked.

  “I believe someone said ribs and chicken wings,” Kazan said with a smile.

  “I can’t have both,” I said. “It’s too much food.”

  Not to mention too steep a price.

  “Exactly. So pick the one you crave the most, and I’ll get the other one so you can take some from me, too,” he said, matter-of-fact.

  “Oh wow, you don’t have to do that!” I said, touched nonetheless. “You should pick something you like.”

  “I also enjoy ribs and chicken wings, so either choice is no hardship for me.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked, still feeling bad.

  “I wouldn’t offer otherwise,” he said with a gentle smile. “Go ahead, choose!”

  I ended up picking the ribs, the wings making it easier to steal a couple from him. As expected, the meal proved to be beyond finger-licking good. While Kazan did eat, I couldn’t help noticing that he barely drank his Sangria and didn’t clean his plate. For such a tall and muscular man, I’d expected him to put away gargantuan portions.

  Before I could ask him if he didn’t like the food, the waitress dropped by to ask if we wanted coffee or dessert. Normally, I would have been all over the chocolate mousse cake, but I needed to save room for popcorn. Kazan settled the bill and held my hand again as we exited the restaurant. I loved the casual possessiveness of it all and how natural it felt.

  We strolled through the brightly lit streets in the pleasantly warm, late April evening. Friday nights in the normally quiet and quaint Cordell City always buzzed with activity. Despite its turn-of-the-century Victorian charm, it offered all the modern amenities one could wish for. Becoming a North-American mecca for traditional arts, and increasingly, digital arts, had successfully attracted a young and hip population which sauntered past us seeking their own entertainment.

  With forty-five minutes to kill before the show, we took our time walking to the movie theatre, browsing store windows, and admiring street performers. One particularly skilled illusionist drew quite the crowd, forcing me to stand even closer to Kazan who wrapped his arm around my waist. I leaned against him, and he tightened his hold. Feeling emboldened, I slipped my own arm around him and pressed myself further against his muscular side.

  Not wanting to be late, we eventually headed for the theater, his arm resting on my shoulders and mine still wrapped around him. This felt like high school when neither party wanted to spell out how they felt but were seriously crushing over each other and tentatively touching each other to see if their love interest would balk.

  A few meters from the theater, the throbbing in my chest manifested itself again. The burning sensation increasing at an alarming rate. I could almost feel the presence of the Mistwalker at the back of my head. Oblivious to my discomfort, Kazan released me with obvious reluctance to go validate the tickets he had reserved online.

  Please don’t fuck this up for me. Let me enjoy this evening.

  I felt like I’d just jumped head first into crazy town trying to speak to the Mistwalker in my mind, but what other option did I have? The perfect man—at least for now—had just walked into my life, and our attraction appeared to be mutual. My stomach knotted with apprehension that this evening would be ruined.

  The pain receded almost as soon as Kazan let go of me. I couldn’t say if the Mistwalker had taken pity on me in response to my plea or was no longer punishing me for allowing another male to touch his Jade. Kazan returned with the tickets, and we walked hand in hand to the concession stands.

  Knowing I wanted popcorn, Kazan grabbed the large bag and two drinks combo, although he exchanged his soda for a bottle of mineral water. When the stand worker asked with or without butter, I immediately said ‘with’ and stared at Kazan with pleading eyes
.

  He laughed. “The lady has spoken,” Kazan said to the stand worker.

  She nodded and gave him a discreet once over. In her late teens, she’d be prettier without such thick layers of makeup. My skin itched just looking at her.

  We settled down in the center of the theater, the lights fading moments later. To my relief, while the Mistwalker’s presence remained constant throughout the movie, like a tingling sensation at my nape, and a dull throb around his tattoo on my chest, it didn’t interfere with my enjoyment of the evening. You’d almost think he was watching the movie with us.

  To my disappointment, Kazan didn’t try to get frisky with me despite the darkness surrounding us. While I ate the popcorn—since he only took a handful where there hadn’t been any butter—his arm rested on my shoulder, his thumb caressing my upper arm. We didn’t speak. Even though I wanted to keep chatting with him, I hated people that babbled during movies and was grateful for his silence as well. We left with half the bag of popcorn still full but his water bottle fully drained.

  Aside from his drink, the movie, the illusionist and, of course, my delightful company, I suspected Kazan hadn’t much enjoyed the rest of the evening. He’d clearly tried to please me with the wings and the butter on the popcorn, while not liking them himself. As for the Sangria, that, too, he’d barely touched, but it was the blank look—although the word ‘panicked’ kept popping into my mind—that had struck me when the waitress asked him what he wanted.

  If we ever went on another date—and God knows I wanted to—I’d make sure he ordered things he liked. I couldn’t risk him getting turned off from spending time with me because he was constantly forcing himself to do things he didn’t want to.

  After walking for ten minutes without catching a single free cab, the rare ones we saw getting snagged right from under us by others, we decided to walk three blocks down, away from Main Street, where we’d more likely find a taxi stand. Wrapping his arm around me, Kazan tucked me under his arm as we padded slowly down the blissfully peaceful sidewalk.

  Kazan’s obvious interest in me and my life touched me deeply. My teenage years had been tough so I did my best not to become a Debbie Downer as I gave him an overview of that time.

  “Our parents died in a dumb car accident when I was twelve,” I said, glad that after so many years, I could finally speak of it without choking up. “It’s been just Laura and me ever since, being passed around from one uncle or aunt to the next. Despite the circumstances, the first couple of years had been great with our grandmother, but after her stroke, our parents’ siblings had to carry the torch. They did their best, but we were an extra burden they weren’t prepared to handle.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kazan said, commiserating.

  “It’s okay. In many ways, we’d been luckier than many other kids in our situation who ended up wards of the State or landed in foster homes and got separated. Laura is a pain in the rear sometimes, but I wouldn’t trade her for all the gold in the world. Do you have siblings?”

  “Not really,” he said as we crossed the deserted street.

  “Not really?” I asked, lifting my head to give him a confused look.

  “I was an orphan, too, left alone almost immediately after my birth.” He shrugged. “I grew up a loner, mostly by choice, then spread my wings as soon as I could. It wasn’t miserable, just lonely at times, which explains why I’m so socially awkward.”

  “You’re not socially awkward at all!” I exclaimed.

  “Not with you. For some reason, you instantly made me feel at ease, like I’ve known you forever.”

  And I had felt the same about him. I opened my mouth to tell him as much when the sound of footsteps behind us drew my attention. Looking over his shoulder, the hooded silhouettes of two men walking towards us made my heart lurch. Kazan looked over his shoulder as well and glanced at them before facing ahead, apparently dismissive of their presence. Although we picked up the pace slightly, we didn’t move half as fast as I would have liked us to.

  Despite his nonchalant expression, I felt Kazan’s rippling muscles tense against me. I couldn’t say if my nerves were playing tricks on me or if the two men’s brisk steps had in fact accelerated. Reaching the next intersection, we crossed the street to the opposite sidewalk, hoping they would keep walking straight ahead. My heart sank when they continued to shadow us, closing the distance between us.

  The throbbing in my chest grew exponentially as my tattoo flared. The tingling I’d come to associate with the presence of the Mistwalker became so strong, I all but expected to see him appear before me.

  For once, I would genuinely have welcomed him.

  As soon as we reached the other sidewalk, Kazan shoved me towards the building ahead of us and turned around to face our stalkers. Stumbling forward, I raised my hands in front of me to keep my balance. My breath caught in my throat as I turned and saw one of our would-be muggers had pulled out a knife. While preferable to a gun, it could still seriously hurt Kazan. I didn’t know what to do. Self-defense classes said to scream, throw my purse or wallet in one direction and run in the other, but my gut told me Kazan wouldn’t run.

  The look in his eyes spelled death.

  “For your own sake,” Kazan said, his voice chillingly calm and threatening, “turn around and walk away. Or I promise a most unpleasant outcome for you.”

  The man on the left, whose features I couldn’t see, shaded as they were by his hoodie, chuckled at Kazan’s threat.

  “You’ve got big balls, big man,” he said, taunting Kazan, “but you might not be so cocky once I start messing up your woman’s pretty face with my blade. Hand over your wallet, that fancy watch, and your jewelry, and you get to go home and fuck her sweet pussy. Challenge us, and maybe we’ll fuck her raw after we’re done spending your money.”

  I was okay with that first suggestion. A few dollars, even a couple of hundred, weren’t worth either of our lives.

  “Come and get them.”

  No! Kazan, no!

  Just as the thought crossed my mind, my vision blurred, and a dark mist took form between Kazan and me before wrapping itself around him. Neither Kazan nor his attackers appeared to see it. The leader of the two thugs took a couple of steps towards Kazan who burst into action. Moving at inhuman speed, he smashed his fist into the thief’s face with a sickening, wet sound. Blood exploding from his face, teeth falling out of his mouth, the thug flopped to the ground, unconscious or dead, without emitting a single sound.

  “You son of a whore!” the second thief yelled, throwing himself at Kazan with his own blade raised.

  He slashed frantically at Kazan who dodge with impossible speed and ease, like a twisted game of cat and mouse, quickly tiring his aggressor. In an unexpected move, Kazan ducked, spun out of the blade’s trajectory and, using the momentum of his rotation, slammed his fist into the hooded man’s side. Even from where I stood, I heard his ribs cracking. Covering my mouth with both hands, I silenced the horrified scream that wanted to tear out of my throat.

  The wounded man doubled over in pain, his scream snuffed out seconds later by Kazan bringing down his fist at the back of his head. He collapsed, unconscious, a couple of meters away from his partner.

  Despite the terror making me tremble from head to toe, relief flooded me to see the two men still breathing. Although they’d brought this on themselves, and as much as Kazan currently frightened me, I didn’t want him charged with manslaughter, even if in self-defense. No judge would ever believe he’d damaged these men this severely with his mere fists.

  “Do not be afraid, my Jade. No one will ever harm you.”

  I squealed at the Mistwalker’s voice in my head. Kazan turned abruptly towards me at the sound, as if looking for the source of the threat. He blinked and looked dazed for a moment as the dark mist around him faded into oblivion. The tingling sensation at my nape and the throbbing on my chest disappeared.

  The Mistwalker was gone.

  The feral look on Kazan face
melted, replaced by worry as he moved towards me. On instinct, I stepped backwards until the brick wall of the building behind me pressed against my back.

  The hurt expression in Kazan’s eyes clawed at my heart. Had he felt the Mistwalker taking him over, or lending him his power, or whatever that had been?

  “It’s okay,” Kazan said in a soft voice. He approached me slowly, carefully, as if I were a frightened animal—which, to be honest, wasn’t far from the truth. “It’s over. You’re safe. They can’t hurt you now.”

  Or anyone else, anytime soon…

  Except, they no longer scared me. He did!

  “Let’s go to that cab stand and get you home.”

  I didn’t resist when he gently took my hand and drew me towards him. Feeling numb, I cast a brief glance over my shoulder at the unconscious men, thankfully still breathing, and let Kazan guide me down the last block to Juniper Street where a handful of taxis awaited customers.

  We should call the cops or at least an ambulance.

  The thought replayed in my mind, but my mouth refused to open and speak it out loud. Frazzled, I stood in a daze while Kazan opened the cab’s door for me. Before I could get in, he cupped my face in his hands.

  “You’re safe now, Jade. The driver will take you home, and everything will be fine.”

  Despite the fear he had inspired in me only minutes ago, a wave of panic surged through me at the thought of not having him by my side.

  “You’re not coming with me?” I asked, gripping his shirt at the waist.

  “I have to call the cops and an ambulance for those assholes. Someone needs to handle this.”

  Right…

  Although relieved that the authorities would be informed, that he wasn’t just abandoning the scene, I couldn’t fully process what was happening. Never had I wanted to be home so badly and for all of this to be over. Kazan leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine. I’d wanted to respond but remained stoic. It didn’t appear to upset him.

  Our first kiss… wasted.

  “Go on, my darling,” he said, taking a step back and gesturing with his head for me to enter the vehicle.