by Amy Cook
“But why?”
“In their youth, children mimic their parents, their siblings, cartoons, anything. Why? Because they are learning. Yet as they mature, they alter their mimicry to better reflect themselves, to separate themselves out from what they originally mimicked.”
“So you’re sayin’ the tags are formin’ their own separate identity from Amiel?”
“To a degree. The question is, how far will the separation go? And will the tags be happy with only separation, or will the time come that they want complete control?”
Harley and Pell stared at one another for a long, agonizing moment filled with possibilities Harley didn’t want to consider for the kid.
Awareness lifted the hairs on Harley’s arms as movement from the corner of his eye drew his attention. Amiel was standing near the couch, her body moving so quietly he hadn’t even heard it. He felt her eyes fixed solely on him.
His Hybrid bounced about in his head like a hyper Chihuahua, pressing against its boundaries. He’d never felt it react that way before. It felt cautious, yet excited. Harley wasn’t so sure he liked it.
Ever so slowly, Harley turned his head toward Amiel, and the moment their eyes met, her head ticked to the side, the primal replication of a Hybrid sending another thrill through his Hybrid. Moving with the same slow grace of a wary predator, Harley rose to his feet, watching as her large eyes glittered in interest. He narrowed in on her eyes as she approached, noting the dilated pupils left only a rim of green. Amiel’s tags were in full play.
“Kid?”
She paused mid-step, head ticking to the side.
“Amiel.” He tried again. Her head ticked to the other side, eyes narrowing slightly in an expression of confusion.
“Amiel?” She said the word as though tasting it. She shook her head. “No.” Her feet began carrying her forward again.
“Yes,” Harley stated forcefully. “You are Amiel.” She paused again, before her steps continued once more, carrying her past him and toward the stairs.
“Amiel, stop!” Harley ordered gruffly, pulling his Hybrid to the surface. If the tags wanted to play, he’d step up to the plate with his own arsenal. Maybe they would listen to another Hybrid. Amiel froze, arms stiff at her sides, chin turned just enough to regard him carefully over her shoulder. Harley stalked slowly toward her in a wide circle, careful to always stay within her eyesight so as not to spook her into running; whether the tags agreed or not, her body wasn’t ready for a full-out tussle, with him or Rabids.
“Where ya goin’, kid?” he asked quietly, though careful to maintain the authority in his voice. It was a little trick he’d learned over the years of dealing with those new to their way of life. You had to be gentle so they didn’t assume you were challenging them, yet firm enough that they knew issuing a challenge themselves was a bad idea.
“I have to fight,” she replied, her voice smooth and fearless.
“Why?”
“It is what I do. It is my purpose.”
“Your purpose as what?”
“I… it is…” She hesitated, that confusion entering her eyes once more. “It is my purpose,” she finished firmly.
“Your body ain’t up to fightin’ tonight, darlin’,” he coaxed, holding out a hand as though calming a wild animal. Because that was exactly what a Hybrid was, on a good day. While Amiel might not be a real deal Hybrid, she was as close as a Clean could get.
“My body,” she purred out, eyes flaring with a sudden interest that took him off guard. “What do you know of my body, Hybrid?” Her own body shifted toward him, some of the taut guard in her muscles smoothing out. His darker nature perked to full interest, puffing out its metaphorical chest under her examination.
“Amiel,” he warned cautiously, as she stepped closer to him. A cocky grin split her lips at his tone, one hand rising to run the length of his rough jaw, down his neck and over his chest.
“My body is certainly interested in yours. I think we may be, as well.”
Harley noticed Pell jerk excitedly in his chair; hearing Amiel speak the word “we” in reference to both parts of her was the discovery of one puzzle piece, bringing them closer to the truth behind Amiel and the tags’ connection.
She pressed closer to Harley, and he swallowed, fighting against the rapid pace of his heart. Now is not the time, never is the time. He repeated the mantra over and over in his head, the mantra that had served him well since the arrival of Amiel in his life. With her plastering herself all over him for the second time in twenty-four hours, however, he was having a hard time reconciling with the wisdom behind those words.
He clenched his jaw, steeling his resolve. Now was not the time. Amiel was not herself. And she needed him to be her guardian now more than ever. Reluctantly his Hybrid agreed, melding to his intentions. Looking down into her eyes, he forced every ounce of command possible into his gaze. Instantly hers turned guarded, and he felt her push against the tunneling effect of the current between them. This version of Amiel didn’t want to be pulled into the current, didn’t want to be drowned in it. She’d done the same when she interacted with him during the Collapse. She’d pushed against the pull, been afraid of its power. But unlike then, this time she didn’t let herself be pulled in. She looked away, breaking the connection, leaving Harley feeling oddly devoid. Refocusing on the matter at hand, he spoke.
“You won’t go fightin’ tonight.”
“I must. It is what we do,” she stated with a firm shake of her head.
“You ain’t healed yet.”
“We are strong. You said we are strong.”
Harley frowned, realizing she had been listening to at least some of his conversation with Pell. He just didn’t know how much of it.
“You’re tough, but even the toughest need rest. Your body needs to recuperate before y’all can go kickin’ more Rabid butt. Amiel needs it.” He added the last, hoping to appeal to both versions of Amiel. Her eyes narrowed.
“I protect Amiel. I keep us safe.”
Pell jerked in his chair again as another puzzle piece fell into place for him. Harley ignored him, focusing only on his charge.
“Then you’ll listen to me now, and stay.”
She studied him for a long moment. “If we do not go now, I will not be allowed again. I need…” She left it hanging, as though unsure of just what it was that she needed.
“I understand, kid. I do.” He hesitated, before making his decision. “You be a good girl and go rest; no more sneakin’ off into the night when y’all should be sleepin’. Do that for me, and I’ll take ya huntin’ when you’re all healed.”
“You will?” Hope laced her voice, the black in her eyes receding just a millimeter.
“I will. I promise. But only if ya promise not to be runnin’ ’round behind my back, bein’ naughty.”
The mischievous grin returned to her lips. “We’ll only be naughty when you ask us to be.”
Harley cleared his throat, cheeks heating. She gave him one last long gaze, before turning her back and walking a few steps away. He stiffened slightly in response, before she tossed another coy look over her shoulder at him. That one look spoke volumes. She’d turned her back on him in trust. He’d just earned the trust of Amiel’s Hybrid nature. The implication of that was slightly staggering. Trust amongst his kind was not easily given, and he had no doubt the same was true about the tags’ nature.
Amiel flinched slightly as Pell bounced upward from his chair. Harley hissed at him to settle down, and the dweeb made an obvious effort to still his bouncing, though he practically vibrated with the need.
“Uh, while we’re being civil, I wonder if I might get a blood sample from you before you go back to sleep.”
Amiel’s eyes narrowed dangerously, head tipping to the side.
“Blood sample. What is the need for this?”
“Well, to ensure that you’re in top fighting condition when Harley makes good on his promise, of course. You want to be as strong as he knows y
ou are, right?”
Amiel stepped closer to Pell, expression clearly stating she wasn’t entirely certain if she wanted to strangle the man or agree with him. Harley understood the sentiment, but he’d rather not have to wrestle her off the dweeb tonight. Thankfully, she finally settled on the latter.
“We will consent.” She thrust her arm out toward him imperiously. He bobbed his head in his usual bow, and quickly set about drawing more blood. When he was finished, he put a band-aid on her arm. Amiel stared at it in disgust and yanked it off, flicking it away when it stuck to her fingers.
Sending Pell another look, she headed for the bed and promptly lay down. Within seconds, the hairs on Harley’s body that had been in a constant state of vertical attention finally smoothed back down the way they should be, and he knew she was sleeping.
He hadn’t realized how tight his muscles had been, until they fell relaxed in that moment. He felt drained, exhausted, edgy, and yet oddly that sense of excitement remained: Hybrid excitement. Giving a gruff, silent order to his Hybrid to knock it off, Harley sank into the chair at Pell’s side. Pell’s eyes were alight with sheer exhilaration. When he opened his mouth, Harley quickly held up a hand, before motioning toward Amiel and his own ear. Luckily Pell seemed to get the gist, and kept his silence as he ran the blood tests; when they were finally complete, some time later, Pell stood and motioned for Harley to follow. They descended a ways into the stairwell and spoke in whispers.
“How wild was that!” Pell gushed. “So many of our theories confirmed, in that one five minutes! The tags and Amiel truly are separate, yet linked.” He scrunched his nose as the glasses tried to escape his face down the ski slope of his nose. “Of course, she could just have multiple personalities.”
“What did you find, Pell?” Harley sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. He’d worry about one thing at a time. He’d save the multiple personalities worry for later. Right now he was feeling antsy with Amiel out of sight. He hoped she would listen and behave, but he still wanted to be certain. It wouldn’t do for her to go sneaking out one of the windows or something. Pell glanced behind him before leaning closer.
“I’ve got to admit, she’s a bit scary when she’s in full-on Hybrid mode. Normal Amiel is friendly, but I don’t think her alter ego likes me very much.” His eyes narrowed in curious suspicion. “Though she seemed to like you well enough still. Better than well enough, in fact. I felt like I was watching an episode of National Geographic where the female lions go into heat. I wonder if that is Amiel’s attraction speaking, or the tags’. Perhaps both?”
Harley groaned, letting his head thump against the cement stairwell.
“The results, Pell!”
“Her blood results are completely different.” Pell grinned. Harley’s brow rose.
“Completely different how?”
“Exactly! How? How is it even possible? I needed to know if her system would remain the same when the tags took over. Amiel has, after all, only fought Rabids when her tags were in control. Surely they must have a failsafe to protect against the one thing that would stop her from doing what they are meant to do, right? And why would Bryn be so certain that Amiel was the same as Hybrids, if some changes didn’t take place?”
“You’re gettin’ all combobulated, Pell, slow down. You’re tellin’ me Amiel is immune when the tags are in control?”
Pell hesitated. “I’m saying her blood looks remarkably similar to a true Hybrid when the tags are activated.”
That wasn’t a yes and it wasn’t a no. Harley grumbled, running a hand over his face. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter now, either way. I’ve made a Hybrid promise.”
Pell nodded solemnly. “Let’s just hope I’m right about the immunity part; Asgard help us all if I’m not. Can you imagine that sheer amount of crazy and power in an infected body?” He shuddered, and Harley couldn’t help but agree.
Chapter 19
Amiel
Amiel pulled her long hair into a pony and stood back to check herself over in the mirror. It had been a week since she killed a pile of Rabids, was run into by a bus, fell and bounced off a dumpster, and Collapsed. The bruises were gone except a tiny amount of yellow stains strewn across the left side of her ribs. Based on the vague details Harley had given her on her wounds, she was very lucky it hadn’t been worse.
She grinned into the mirror, loving that the dark circles under her eyes were now nearly nonexistent. Harley leaned against the bathroom door, arms folded over his chest as he watched her put the finishing touches on her pre-work routine. He carried a heavy, solemn air about him, and it made her want to put his elusive grin back in place. She assumed the burden carried on his shoulders had something to do with the last week’s events.
He’d given her a watered-down version of what had happened when she’d tried sleepwalking at the gym, told her he’d had a serious conversation with her other side. She knew there was more under the surface of what he said, but his intentions were clearly felt through their connection. Whatever he wasn’t telling her, he was keeping it from her for her own benefit.
And for now, she was going to be okay with that. Because in the last three nights that she’d been home sleeping in her own bed, she hadn’t had a single clue to indicate she was still sleepwalking. The guards reported she never left the apartments now, and she felt better rested than she had in months. Whatever he’d done for her was working wonders, and she had no doubts as to his loyalty and friendship. He would tell her when the time was right. She bounced on her toes energetically, turning in a circle for him.
“What do you think? Will Stint believe I was in the hospital this whole time?”
Harley’s eyes skated over her from head to toe, not leaving an ounce of her body untouched with his visual caress. Finally he shook his head. “Not a chance.”
Amiel giggled, having to agree. She looked far too healthy, and Stint was going to think she’d been playing truant. Harley had been a gem and called into work for her the day they found her. He’d called in under the guise of a family member and told Stint that she was in the hospital from a motorcycle accident. Stint, in return, told Harley that Amiel had one week to get back to work or she was fired. Nice guy, as usual.
“Well, there’s no help for it. Today’s the last day I’ve got before I’m fired, so it’s off to see the wizard!”
He shook his head at her cheeky grin. “You’re awful excited to get back to a job ya hate, Thumbelina.”
“Doesn’t everyone hate their job? I don’t think anyone in history has been able to have a job that they truly love every aspect of. It’s simply not possible. Anyone saying differently is trying to sell you something,” she retorted saucily. Harley chuckled, pushing away from the door to follow in her wake as she bounced into the kitchen.
“You feelin’ okay, kid?”
“I feel amazing, Harley! I don’t know what kind of mojo you worked with my other side, but oh, my gosh, do I feel alive!” She grabbed up an apple from the wire basket on the counter. “And look! My knives are still happily hanging out on the counter where they belong.”
She strode up to Harley, popping him on the cheek with a kiss that was wildly unplanned and smoothly executed. Even wilder was the fact that she didn’t even think twice about it once it was done, nor did she blush and second-guess the action. For once, she felt free and unfettered from the chains of self-doubt, propriety, and trauma Malinda had fashioned around her heart. She felt free, and she felt light; there was no other way of putting it. Harley stood propped against the counter in full-on statue-man mode, stunned, as she pulled away with a grin.
“You’re a miracle worker, Harley! An absolute miracle worker!” She tossed on her coat, and zipped it up with gusto while the apple was clenched between her teeth. Double-checking that her gun was secured at the small of her back, she grabbed a second apple from the counter, tossed open the door and gestured grandly for Harley to exit. The exuberant wave of her arm only garnered a slight wince as her rib
s extended. Harley, observant as ever, instantly caught the twinge. He shifted from one foot to the other in the hallway as she locked up.
“Sure you’re ready to head back to work, kid?”
“I’m right as rain.” Slipping the key into her pocket, she tossed the second apple his way. “An apple a day keeps the Rabids away.” She winked, before heading toward the stairwell. “Come along, Jeeves, I have a date with destiny by way of tips and cranky patrons!” With that, she took off running, jogging down the steps as swiftly as she could. Probably not the best of ideas, as her ribs and hip immediately began aching. She ignored them, isolating the pain and letting it fuel her.
The pain was a reminder that she was alive when she should be dead. The pain was a reminder that she had the potential to be even stronger than before, if she worked for it. She wasn’t sure where the sudden need to be strong had come from, but she felt the need to better herself, to prove herself, down to the very core of her soul. Her heart jolted as Harley raced past her down the stairs, mischievous grin on his face. She hadn’t even heard him following, his steps had been so light. She needed to learn that trick.
She let out a squeak when she rounded the corner on the last flight, coming face to face with Harley. He stood there, majestically lounging against the wall as if he’d been there for hours.
“Took ya long enough. Come on already, Thumbelina. You’ve got a date with destiny, blah blah blah.”
“I was taking it easy on you.”
“Uh huh.” He smirked, turning to hold the door open for her. She paused in the doorway, poking him in the chest.
