by Amy Cook
Her eyes turned cold, glittering with a darkness that Tandy could only classify as evil. “I think you will find that I’m a different breed, Mr. Coaver. One you’ve never come up against before. My bite might just be more than you can handle.” With that, she shoved her nose in the air and left the shop, her little henchman following in her wake. Tandy watched her go, not releasing his breath until he heard the engine of his son’s invention disappearing into the distance.
“Confounded woman,” Tandy growled. How that she-devil had mothered Amiel was beyond him. They were like night and day. Running a hand over his face in frustration, Tandy considered his options. Sensing his mood, the dogs pushed their noses against his arm.
“Yeah. I know. Maybe I shoulda let ya eat her.”
Lugnut sneezed, almost like he was in agreement with that statement; that, or the mutt was disgusted by the idea of having to bite her. The thought made Tandy grin.
“Well, pack up kids, time to get the hell outta dodge. It was a fun run while it lasted,” Tandy muttered, standing and taking a look around his shop. He was going to miss the place — though he wouldn’t miss the town, that was certain. Picking up the phone, he made the necessary calls to contacts for the movement of his bikes across the states. They showed swiftly, packing and moving everything in the shop, from the tiniest bolt to the biggest bike. Tandy watched as he set about preparing for war. It was gonna be a hell of a ride.
Chapter 5
Amiel
“Harley?” Amiel whispered loudly, feeling the darkness enfolding her like an oily shroud. She shivered, stepping further into the gym. She’d been meeting Harley here every day like clockwork since they began training together all those months before. When she’d been on night shift, she’d come two hours before work so she’d still have time to get ready when they were done. Since going on day shift, she had started coming an hour after work was over. Today was different. Today she was late, and the gym was completely dark.
“Harley! Are you in here?” Her hand rose to the tags, their cheery tingle letting her know that nothing dangerous was amiss. Yet her surroundings were certainly shouting differently. Biting her lip, Amiel ignored her impulse to flee and climbed the stairs. It was something they had been working on lately, her need to embrace her instincts and ignore the rest of her impulses. Harley said it might help her have more control over the tags’ reactions, if she was more in tune with her instincts. It was difficult for her to separate the two: her old life, from the new. Her old life told her that she was awkward, graceless and easily replaceable. Her new life told her that she was a lean, mean fighting machine that needed to break open the instruction manual before someone got hurt. Harley was helping her walk the insanely thin line between them. And it was no easy task.
A shaft of light split the darkness just as what felt suspiciously like a rolled-up sock flew at her face. She stumbled to the side in a clumsy attempt to avoid it, the fabric tickling her skin as it whizzed by.
“You’re late!” The grin in Harley’s voice was obvious as it floated toward her in the darkness. Hearing his voice brought instant relief, despite the fact that he had just scared the crap out of her. She turned to see him walking toward her from the back office, the light of the doorway illuminating him from behind.
“And you’re sitting in the dark like a total creeper!” she grumbled back. “Did you just throw a sock at me?”
Harley grinned and shrugged. “They’re clean.” His smile slipped slightly. “What’s wrong?”
“Can we turn on the lights, please?” Amiel hated that her voice shook, but she couldn’t help it. He watched her for a moment before turning and disappearing into the darkness. The lights flipped on with a blinding intensity. When she could finally see past the spots in her eyes, she found Harley standing across the room, watching her with a frown. He wore a pair of loose gym shorts and a gray wifebeater. It was his usual gym attire, the same type of clothing he’d worn every day for the last few weeks. Yet somehow it always seemed to catch her by surprise and send her blushing.
“I scared ya,” he stated, sounding somewhat repentant as he approached.
“Not you. I could feel you through the tags. I knew I was safe. But I am… unsettled by darkness,” she answered glumly. “Honestly, I hate the dark.”
His frown deepened. “You rode home in the dark for months,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, but I have the bike’s lights, so I can still see. It’s not the same.”
“I leave the lights off in the gym when they ain’t bein’ used. Saves money. I was waitin’ till ya got here to turn ’em on, but it got dark faster than I realized. Ain’t no windows in the office.” He eyed her for a moment, a hint of protectiveness eking into his gaze. “Any particular reason why ya don’t like the dark?”
Amiel turned her back, searching for the rolled-up sock missile.
“Aside from the fact that zombie freaks and thugs tend to lurk in it, you mean?” She stalled, glancing jauntily over her shoulder.
Harley offered a self-deprecating grin, nodding in acknowledgement. “Yeah, dumb question.” His hand rose to rub at the back of his neck. “I’m used to roamin’ ’round in the dark, and I think of the gym as a sort of safe haven, I guess. I didn’t think on how the dark would make ya feel.”
She picked up the roll of socks and chucked them back at him. He easily swiped them out of the air with one hand, the rest of his body not moving an inch. Replying to his smug grin with a playful glare, she finally confessed.
“I used to feel like someone was watching me at night when I slept. Well, all the time really, but especially when I slept. So I always slept with a light on… I still do.” Embarrassed over how childish it sounded, she felt heat flushing her cheeks. Harley’s brow creased, and she could see the hundreds of dark musings whirling about in his arctic gaze. She opened up her internal barriers just a smidge in an effort to better absorb his current emotions through their link.
His Hybrid protective nature was pacing; it wanted to find what had made her feel so threatened as a child that it still followed her now. It was equally as annoyed by the fact that, without a time machine, hunting down the cause quite simply wouldn’t be possible. Yet Harley and his Hybrid’s need to protect her conflicted with another sensation. She slammed down her barriers when she felt the hint of frustration that was aimed at her.
Closing the barriers didn’t erase what she’d felt in that moment, though. The Hybrid wanted her to stop being afraid, to stop letting the unknown threaten her. It wanted her to toughen up, and it was mildly disappointed in her.
Her teeth clenched, and she fought the ridiculous urge to harbor hurt feelings. The Hybrid was a thing of feral instinct. It did what it must to survive, and it didn’t take lightly to weakness in itself or others. She couldn’t expect that part of him to behave as though it were human; to accept her frailties, when its very survival depended on strength. Rather, she should aspire to be stronger, to gain more of its respect; not let it bulldoze her with its momentary lowered esteem. In the end, she was the idiot who had gone looking for the knowledge of what it thought in that moment, so she had no room to feel upset when she heard it. Despite her internal arguments, it still smarted.
Amiel bit her lip. She thought she had come a long way, in the time of living away from her mother. And yet there were moments when reality would come crashing in on her. She may have put a vast physical distance between her and her mother, but she hadn’t put all that much distance between the abuses she’d suffered all her life and the new life she was trying to build. That was going to take a lot more time.
She was trying every day: trying to toughen up; trying to lead her life the way she wanted; trying to discover who she was. But at moments like this, she was conflicted. Where did her need to please others separate from her own needs? Should she be aspiring to become a stronger person, like the Hybrid desired? Or should she merely be happy with how far she had come, and let the rest go? Obviously she should be l
iving life for herself, not trying to be what others wanted. Yet, shouldn’t one aspire to become better? Hadn’t Jaron himself always urged her to do so? Didn’t she want that for herself? Where was the line between her true self and what others wanted from her?
Harley’s brow creased, head twitching to the side as he examined her in interest. Groaning in internal frustration, Amiel remembered that their bond was a two-way street. If she felt Harley’s Hybrid feelings, Harley had likely felt her girly feelings of inadequacies, and so had his Hybrid. She offered a grin, internally locking further down on her emotions, not giving them room to discover the true depths of the situation.
Sighing, Harley shook his head and looked away. The look on his face bespoke the feelings Amiel harbored herself; this bond thing added a new level of complicated to a relationship that was already on a level of complication of its own. There was a reason people weren’t normally so deeply in tune with others. Some things just weren’t meant to be shared, because sometimes you just weren’t ready to know them.
“All right, we need to work on this darkness issue, as well as the whole second-guessin’ yourself thing,” Harley grunted bluntly. “You keep holdin’ back, and ya ain’t gonna learn a thing doin’ that. Ya need to trust yourself, and ya need to trust your instincts. You won’t always be able to see your enemies, kid.”
She nodded, biting her lip. “I understand.” She steeled her resolve. She hated feeling weak. And she hated looking weak to Harley. She knew how much weakness affected the way a Hybrid thought of themselves and those around them. She bit her lip in frustration, again mentally berating herself.
“Stop that,” Harley ordered, pulling down on her lip with his thumb so that it popped free of her teeth’s prison. “I know what you’re doin’, belittlin’ yourself in your head. Knock it off, Thumbelina. Don’t hurt yourself when you’re frustrated. It won’t solve anythin’.” His censure was gently given, yet clearly understood.
“Sorry,” she apologized in contrition.
He released a heavy sigh and walked away. “Stop apologizin’. You’re human. Ya make mistakes, and ya get frustrated and afraid. It’s normal. But they’re strong emotions, and ya need to learn how to put the outlet of their release into other things, not direct ’em at yourself.”
Amiel shrugged uncomfortably out of her jacket, tossing it to the side as she thought. Harley had an unerring way of digging deep and laying her bare, without even trying. And so far, he had an unerring way of being right. He grabbed something from the counter on the other side of the room and returned, lifting her chin with gentle fingers.
“Do ya trust me, Thumbelina?”
The question surprised her, but her answer was firm. “Of course.”
“Good. I wanna try somethin’, but if it makes ya uncomfortable, you need to tell me. None of this tryin’ to be strong when you’re panickin’ on the inside. There is a difference between pushin’ yourself and throwin’ yourself over the cliff. You get panicked at all, about anythin’, you tell me and I’ll walk ya through it. Got it?”
She nodded contritely, ever the humble student. He stepped closer, and she realized what he’d grabbed from the counter was his t-shirt. She eyed it for a moment before coming up with a sassy reply.
“Giving me another shirt? I might start thinking you don’t like my wardrobe if you keep this up.”
Harley blinked, then shook his head. “Nope. I like this shirt. You’re not stealin’ this one from me.”
“Oh, I see, I only get the reject shirts?” she returned playfully.
He eyed her, his wary expression making it clear he didn’t quite know how to handle her when she got like this. “Stop that. You’re distractin’ me, and it’s not gonna get ya outta this. So knock it off.”
She clamped her mouth shut, dramatically zipping her lips and tossing the key, though she couldn’t stop them from turning up in the corners with mischief. There was something empowering about being able to throw Harley off balance now and then.
“Stop it,” Harley grumbled. “Now, we’re gonna work on this thing with the dark. I’m gonna wrap this ’round your eyes like a blindfold. Next time I’ll bring somethin’ better suited for it, but today we’ll try this.”
“Next time? You’re planning on blindfolding me often, then?” She giggled nervously. He bent to look in her eyes.
“We need to break you of this fear, kid. If we don’t, it’ll hang over your head and be used against ya eventually. Weaknesses always work that way, especially with Rabids. Okay?”
She nodded silently, closing her eyes to let him know she was ready. She could hear him shifting, moving around behind her. Her heart leapt into a gallop when she felt the warmth of his chest so near, yet not touching. The fabric tickled her oddly sensitive skin as it slid into place over the bridge of her nose, obscuring her view. He gently tied the bundle in a knot at the back of her head, swiping a hand down her long hair as he tied it, so that the strands didn’t get tangled in the knot.
“How’s that — can ya see?”
She cleared her throat. “No, nothing.”
“How does it make you feel?” he asked quietly, voice suddenly coming from in front of her. She hadn’t even heard him move.
“Uhh…” She wasn’t entirely willing to admit that it made her feel like a giggly teenage girl with her first crush. That would be embarrassing, even for her.
“Are ya panickin’?” he clarified, and her cheeks heated.
“Oh.” She studied herself for signs of freak-out. Aside from feeling nervous under his unseen scrutiny, she didn’t feel panicked. Not like she had earlier, in the dark. “No. I think I’m okay with this.” She frowned. “I don’t get it. What is the difference? I still can’t see.”
“The lights are on. You’ve seen the layout, you’ve seen me. I’ve talked ya through what we’re doin’.” She could practically feel him shrug. “You’ve been prepared for the situation and ya know if ya need to, you could just push the cloth off your eyes and the light will be on. You may not be able to see, but ya still feel an amount of control over the matter. I guess.”
She mulled over his words for a moment. “Yeah. I guess I can identify with that.”
“Okay. So, we’re gonna try this at a comfortable pace for ya.” Though she knew he was taking it slow for her benefit, she couldn’t help but feel irritated, her pride being pricked over weakness once more. She knew Harley didn’t mean it that way. But that was how she felt. Being a girl brimming with hormones and emotions sucked sometimes. Taking a deep breath and shaking it off, she straightened her back and shoulders, nodding.
“Okay. What do I do?”
“Listen. Feel. Use your senses to reach out and locate me. Cleans often find themselves relyin’ too heavily on one or two senses for specific tasks.” His voice shifted as he moved, and she turned her head to follow. “It’s not till someone loses their sight or hearin’ that they start realizin’ they have other senses to rely on, too. You don’t need to completely lose it, to find the ability. Anybody can do it if they focus hard enough.”
She froze as she felt him draw near at her back. His hands fell on her shoulders, gently pushing them down.
“Breathe deep. Relax. Stop thinkin’ so hard, and just listen to your instincts.”
She fought the urge to giggle nervously, and instead focused on his hands. They shifted from the tops of her shoulders to the sides, sliding down and kneading in an effort to relax her. Focusing on his hands was a bad idea, she swiftly decided. Releasing a heavy breath, she refocused on her breathing. In, 123, out, 123. In, 123, out, 123.
“Good,” he murmured, hands falling away from her shoulders. “This technique is somethin’ we all learn when we first join this life,” he explained. “It’s not only important when it comes to learnin’ to trust instincts, and fightin’, but it’s the precursor to a type of healin’ meditation we all need at one point or another.”
“Healing meditation?” She paused, mind racing. “Are we talki
ng about what happened at my apartment? What was it you called it… a Collapse?”
“Yep. When Hybrids are damaged beyond a quick repair, our bodies shut down their major functions, the Hybrid instinct takin’ over. The Collapse is our body’s way of calmin’ itself, focusin’ on the worst of the damage and fixin’ it. Everythin’ but the important bits are cut out of focus. And when we come back from it, it’s like our whole body is resettin’ to a new level. We have to practice a form of meditation to complete the healin’ and adjust the levels to normal. We have to focus on the way things sound, the way they look, how they work. If we don’t do it correctly, our bodies will be outta whack. What I’m teachin’ ya now is just the beginnin’ of what we learn. Can’t hurt to teach ya the same things.”
“So, without learning this focus, you couldn’t fight like you do, or heal properly when you are wounded. Got it.” She nodded.
“Good. The next few trainin’ sessions, we’re gonna focus on this aspect. We need to get ya more in touch with them instincts.”
“Sounds like a plan, Stan.” She breathed out, feeling herself slipping into a sort of trance as she listened to his gentle tone.
Harley scoffed. “Now, focus on my voice.”
She already was, maybe a little too much.
“Focus on the sound, follow it around the room with your head. But only move your head; keep your body in one place as ya follow.”
“My head doesn’t turn in a complete circle like an owl,” she murmured.
“Cute,” he replied wryly, earning her answering sassy smirk. “When you’re in a fight with several people, you won’t be able to keep turnin’ to keep ’em in sight. Ya need to learn to recognize where someone is, even when they’re behind you and ya can’t see ’em. Pay attention to your skin, search for the feeling of drafts as they stir across it, use that and my voice to help ya pinpoint just how close I am.”
