by Amy Cook
A knock sounded at the door; the tags tingled against her chest, and a tired smile curved her lips. Speak of the devil. With a deep, settling sigh, she pushed away from the counter and hurried toward the door. Sliding the locks open as quietly as possible, Amiel grinned mischievously. After silently counting to three, she threw the door open and kicked outward with her right leg. Her eyes widened as the leg was quickly grasped before contact, and a countering fist flew toward her face. She ducked to the side to avoid it, but ended up bonking her face into the open door in the process. A deep laugh filled the air, and it almost made that bump on the cheek worth it.
“Graceful as ever, kid.” Harley grinned, releasing her leg.
“Shut up,” she muttered grumpily, though the angst was easily smothered in her joy at seeing him. “How do you always catch me, anyways? I was extra-quiet this time.”
“I heard ya runnin’ for the door like a stampede of elephants, first of all. Besides, you always count to three after twistin’ the last lock.” Harley smiled, lightly tweaking her nose before turning her jaw to the side to examine the damage. “To think, I was worried about bein’ the one to give ya bruises with all this trainin’, but most of them bruises have ended up bein’ self-inflicted.”
Amiel rolled her eyes, scoffing. “Self-inflicted while trying to get away from you, maybe.” One of Harley’s favorite teaching methods these days consisted of attacking when she was least expecting it. Although she had come to expect the regular sneak attacks, his methods and timing of attack were always different and not only reserved for the gym. And she had to admit she looked forward to it every time, trying to guess what he had planned so that she could counteract it. Granted, most days she failed in counteracting, but she still enjoyed the game of it.
“Hey, it ain’t my fault y’all are so clumsy, Thumbelina. Kinda hard to train someone that keeps trippin’ on their own feet, honestly.” He winked, offering that heart-melting grin he so rarely gave out to others, and instantly the worries she’d faced moments before his arrival evaporated. It was impossible to be sullen around Harley, Amiel had found. He had a way of pulling her out of her dark thoughts, making her put her best foot forward even when it was the last thing she wanted to do. It was one of the things she loved most about their friendship. Pushing the door wider, she yanked on his shirt.
“Shush and get in here. You are letting all of my heat out.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He offered a fake salute, sauntering in. He walked into the apartment, hands stuffed in his pockets and looking completely at ease. The way he glanced at the place where he had bled on her floor was not missed by Amiel, however. She wasn’t sure why he did it: whether it was from bad memories resurfacing every time he saw it, because it reminded him of what she had done for him, or simply because it was a weird Hybrid habit to stare at spots you were wounded on. Either way, it was a custom as constant as Harley’s visits.
Over the last few months their friendship had grown, deepened. Every day Harley would come by and they would head to the gym together. Amiel would train, shower at the gym and then head to work. Or that’s how it had been, until she was put on day shift. Now he still stopped by in the mornings before she headed to work, and escorted her to work. Then they’d meet up at the gym after her shift was over. If their schedules allowed, Harley would escort her home.
Some days their schedules clashed, and some days she thought he purposely didn’t show up, just to ensure that she still felt the freedom to move about as she pleased. He still didn’t relish the idea of “babysitter.” Though lately that feeling seemed to have shifted from his discomfort in the word to worrying about hers. He often asked if she was okay with his being around so much, as though she would tire of his presence. As if.
She grinned to herself while she opened up two packets of hot chocolate and heated some water in her tea kettle. She stiffened, feeling his gaze on her. She really hoped she didn’t have any more twigs sticking out in the areas she hadn’t gotten to with the brush.
“Take a picture, it will last longer,” she quipped mischievously. Grinning, she turned to glance at him over her shoulder. He was watching her with his usual intensity, though this time it held a deeper curiosity — curiosity and a tinge of worry. She quickly looked away, feeling self-conscious. “What?”
“Feelin’ okay, kid?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re tired.” He didn’t bother trying to make his statement sound like a question. He knew she was tired. Even if he couldn’t tell from her appearance, he could feel it. Hybrids were weird like that, able to pick up on people’s emotions and shifts in hormones and other goofy stuff like that. She was actually surprised he wasn’t staring her down with those funky glasses of his. If he really wanted a lowdown on her mood, he could just pop those suckers on and have a good look at her inner mojo through them. She was glad he didn’t. She was afraid of what he would see.
All of that aside, their bond was deeper than that of any average Hybrid and human. Something had happened, those months ago in that warehouse. They had formed some sort of deeper bond there. Neither of them had talked about it, but it was heavy in the air every time they were near. And if his Hybrid genetics didn’t tune him in to her exhaustion, their bond did.
“I just can’t seem to get used to this new schedule. Working graves for so long, I can’t seem to transition to the land of the living.” Two weeks ago, one of the day waitresses had gone into labor, one month early. She had been in the hospital ever since. She and the baby were going to be fine, but had to be under observation. Technically, the girl could leave, but who would want to leave their baby behind just to go back to a crappy waitressing job, if they had another choice? The job was more of a hobby for the girl than anything, having married well enough that she didn’t need the extra income. It wouldn’t surprise Amiel if she never came back, now that she had a baby to look after.
But in the meantime the day crew was one person short, and Stint had tossed Amiel in to fill the gap until he found a replacement. After months of working in the darkest hours and sleeping in the brightest, Amiel found herself completely turned around. She bit her lip, refraining from mentioning the dreams, or strange changes to her clothing.
“Yeah, I can understand that. How much longer till y’all can get back on schedule?”
“I don’t know. Stint interviewed a few girls yesterday, I think. So hopefully it won’t be too long now. It would be nice to have things go back to normal,” she muttered wistfully.
“Normal.” Harley chuckled. “Is that what ya call yourself?”
Amiel chucked a marshmallow at his too-bright grin and poured the now hot water into their cocoa cups. “Do you mind cutting a couple slices of that homemade bread?”
“Don’t gotta ask me twice.” Harley eagerly pushed away from his perch against the counter and headed for the savory loaf of bread she’d baked the night before. Her culinary skills were slowly but surely growing, something she was increasingly proud of. “Where’re the knives?”
Amiel smirked at Harley. “Getting senile in your old age, Superman? They are where they always are.”
Harley moved to the side, gesturing to where the knife block had once sat. The spot was conspicuously bare. Amiel frowned. “Well, then, they are wherever you moved them.”
She sniffed, turning back to the chocolate and making it clear that she wasn’t really in the mood for games. Harley grunted in reply and moved about the kitchen. Suddenly he came up behind her, his back brushing lightly against hers as he opened the half-shut cabinet door above her head.
“Knives in the cabinet? Ain’t the safest hide-and-go-seek spot, kid.”
Amiel stared at the knife block as Harley pulled it down, wordlessly watching its progression back to its original resting spot. She felt Harley watching her again and she offered a jaunty grin and shrug, playing it off as though she had known exactly where they were the whole time. She hadn’t. Turning back to the counter, Amiel gripped it hard,
naming every animal she could think of in her effort to gain control of her stuttering heart. How in the world had the knives gotten up there? No one had keys to her apartment but her, since Harley had changed the locks out for her. That left a sadly obvious name hanging in the air.
“Amiel.”
She jumped, startled, as Harley slid a slice of bread in front of her. He’d slathered on layers of butter, grape jelly and peanut butter for her. It was just the way she liked it — the butter and peanut butter mixed together on one side, and jelly on the other. Yet, staring down at the bread now, she felt her stomach turn.
“Thanks. Be right back,” Amiel muttered, before hurrying into the bathroom. She locked the door and leaned against the countertop, splashing cold water onto her overheated face. Slowly the nausea subsided, leaving a dull ache just behind her eyes as a souvenir. How thoughtful.
Looking into the mirror, Amiel paused and quickly leaned closer to the glass. Frowning, she moved backward, then forward, then backward again in an effort to reenact what she thought she had just seen. No matter what angle or direction she moved, Amiel couldn’t recreate the same effect she’d glimpsed in her eyes. She could have sworn the pupils had been dilated, etched in a strange sort of criss-crossy design. But now she saw nothing.
Nothing but black mascara gunk in the corner of each eye, anyway. Gross. She was sure she’d washed it all off last night after work. She gave them another good scrubbing, removing the offending black stuff. Rubbing at her aching eyes, Amiel swiped an ibuprofen from the drawer and left the bathroom. Harley watched her silently as he munched his last piece of bread.
“Stop with the silent staring, Harley. I’m fine,” she muttered, forcing a bite of bread just to prove it. It sat in her stomach like lead.
“Sure.” He nodded in seemingly affable agreement. She knew he wasn’t buying it.
“Okay, look, maybe I’m feeling a bit under the weather today. I just didn’t get much sleep last night, and now I have a headache,” she admitted. Harley nodded, his tense muscles loosening at her confession. Harley wasn’t big on lies. He was a lot like his dad in that respect.
“Probably from the door y’all ran face-first into,” he teased, lightly tugging on a piece of her hair. “I gotta take a rain check on the trainin’ today, anyways. Foundation.”
Amiel wasn’t sure if Foundation had him running on a mission or not, but she had a suspicion that he was just taking it easy on her today. She must look terrible, for him to let her off the hook.
“Thanks,” she mumbled. “Why don’t you go on and head out, then. Don’t worry about following me to work today. That’s the nice thing about this crazy work schedule; you don’t have to worry so much about the Rabids using me for a toothpick during the day.” She smiled softly. Harley watched her for a long moment.
“You sure?”
She nodded, waving him away. “Totally. Don’t worry about me.”
“Isn’t that what friends do, Amiel?” he asked seriously, looking her in the eyes to ensure his sincerity made an impact. Nodding, he lightly tugged a strand of her hair again before heading toward the door. “Take care. I’ll see ya later on, kid.” With one more concerned glance, he headed out the door.
Amiel followed, carefully twisting each lock, knowing he wouldn’t leave until he heard them engage. The big lug was always looking out for her. Her eyes shifted back to the knife block on the counter. She just hoped that, if the time came, Harley wouldn’t have to be the one to put her down.
Chapter 3
Amiel
By the afternoon, Amiel was feeling much better than she had that morning. The headache had died down to an ache that only bothered her when she moved her head too quickly. Joyce had also popped in to say hi, and that alone had brightened Amiel’s day considerably. That was probably what she missed most about being stuck on daylight detail: her bubbly friend. The rest of the team that worked day shift seemed nice enough, but they were aloof and a bit uptight. The night crew might be angsty and a little crazy, but at least she had someone to talk to.
Day crew was a suspicious lot. Joyce had warned her; she said the fact that they refused to work anything but day shift shouted about their personalities. At first, Amiel had been somewhat understanding of their mentality. After all, if she didn’t have the tags watching her back, she would likely be more inclined to work day shift, too. However, it wasn’t until she actually started working the new hours that Amiel finally understood what Joyce had been trying to tell her. The slightest noise out of the ordinary spooked them. They carefully avoided any eye contact with one another, as well as their customers. They spoke as little as possible, straying far away from anything that might hint at anything personal. It was as though no one wanted to take the risk of getting to know anyone else.
She understood not wanting to feel the debilitating pain of losing a loved one. She knew that all too well. But at the same time, what kind of life was that to live? It had to be so very lonely, not to mention stressful, being that frightened all the time. She found it slightly ironic that Hybrids had to constantly worry about losing their humanity, and yet the very humans they fought to protect had, in a way, already lost it. They were like frightened animals hiding in shadowed corners, only occasionally running into the light to grab food before shrinking back into their dark havens.
The night crew? They were a harder bunch, used to the rigors of life and not afraid to take them on. Sure, they didn’t want to be eaten any more than the next person. But they understood that life waited for no one, and sometimes you had to do the tough things to live. Actually live, in more ways than just breathing. They were crude and rude, but Amiel had grown to think of them as family of sorts: a big, crazy, dysfunctional family. Amiel understood how to do crazy, dysfunctional families. And of course when things got too crazy, Joyce was always there to laugh it off with her. She missed it.
The bell over the door rang, and from the corner of her eye, Amiel saw two men take a corner booth near the door, far away from everyone else. Smiling, she shook her head and grabbed a new pen from the drawer. These two were perfect examples of the everyday, average humans that walked the daylight hours. Antisocial day chasers, Joyce called them. The name made Amiel grin.
She strode to their table, avoiding eye contact until she was ready to take their order: yet another trick she had had to learn on this new shift. Daylighters tended to get hostile and suspicious if you were too outwardly friendly.
“Welcome to Jolleyways Diner, what can I get… you?” Amiel floundered slightly as she finally looked up. “Pell?”
Pell grinned enthusiastically. “Hello, Amiel. How are you?”
“I…” Amiel hesitated in surprise for a second, before her manners kicked in. “I am well, thank you. How are you?”
Pell’s grin broadened at her reply. “Wonderful! I must say it is lovely seeing you again. After our last meeting being so… well, you know. I don’t have to remind you!” Pell grunted, grabbing at his shin and shooting a surprised glance at his companion.
“Tone it down, Einstein. You’ll draw attention,” the second man cautioned quietly. Amiel swallowed hard, finally forcing herself to turn to Pell’s companion.
“Cajun,” she greeted.
“Amiel,” Cajun replied solemnly. They stared at one another for a long moment, and Amiel felt an odd sort of jolt inside her, some sort of reaction to what she now instinctively recognized as Cajun’s Hybrid side staring at her through his eyes. She didn’t like the way that jolt felt, leaping to life within her mind. She closed her eyes, giving her head a slight shake, begging the sensation to dissipate.
Swallowing, she forced herself to look back to Cajun, to meet his gaze. A flicker of surprise flashed across his golden-hued eyes before they lowered to stare at where the dog tags hid, nestled away beneath her t-shirt and apron. He nodded, sitting back in his chair, eyes shifting to stare at the table before him. She wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, but it had been completely disconcert
ing, so she rushed on with what she did know: her job.
“What can I get you, Pell?”
“An order of those delightfully fluffy, pancake donut frosting-coated things would be amazing!” Pell replied jubilantly, entirely unaware of the awkwardness in the air. “And coffee — decaf. I don’t handle all that caffeine very well,” he confided with a blush. Amiel smiled. She could understand why. She had a feeling that seeing Pell on a full caffeine rush would be slightly frightening. Not looking up from her notepad, Amiel addressed Harley’s brother.
“Cajun?”
“Forgiveness.”
She looked up quickly, surprise causing her to look into his eyes without thinking. Thankfully, his Hybrid had receded and she no longer felt that uncomfortable conflict from earlier.
“I beg your pardon?” Her tone was quiet, hesitant.
“Do you have a break coming up? Things are a bit… edgy in here, for conversation.”
Amiel followed Cajun’s gaze to see Stint glowering at them behind the counter. Turning back to Cajun, she nodded, pretending to write on her note pad.
“My break is coming up in half an hour.”
“Would I be asking too much to speak with you then? I promise not to take up too much of your time.”
Amiel bit her lip in thought. The last time she had spoken with Cajun, the situation had been rife with contention and a whole lot of angst. She wasn’t entirely sure where she stood with him now, and the idea of meeting him alone somewhere was somewhat intimidating. But she was a big girl now, with big-girl panties that currently needed to be hiked up to big-girl status. Sighing, she straightened her spine, fortifying herself. “Where should I meet you?”
Cajun nodded, pleased with her answer. “Pell will walk with you to where we can meet. It is nearby and very public, don’t worry.” Obviously he’d seen the distrustful look in her eyes. Without saying another word, he stood and strode from the restaurant. Amiel stared at the door as it closed, before turning back to Pell. Pell, for his part, was still grinning broadly. Amiel shook her head and went to deliver his order to Cookie.
