by Amy Cook
Harley groaned, but seized the moment for what it was. Above his head was an old electrical wire, hanging loose from the broken walls. Grabbing it, he quickly looped it around the giant’s neck, keeping it pinned in place. Now, maybe Harley was squished, but the giant was in an awkward position, bent over backward and off balance. Harley had just enough time to reach behind his back and yank the sword from its scabbard while the creature tried to remove the cord from its neck. Harley brought the sword straight down, stabbing through the creature’s shoulder into its torso.
The beast roared in pain and fury, and Amiel took that moment to rush forward, slamming the rebar straight through the guy’s gut. The bar popped through the giant’s back and crunched against the brick wall, only inches under Harley’s butt: too close for his comfort. He sent Amiel a disgruntled expression, seconds before he found himself once more sailing through the air.
Somehow the jerk had found a way to free itself from the cord, grabbed Harley’s leg and yanked him underhanded off its back. Harley bounced along the ground as he rolled with the fall. He tumbled to his feet just as the thing yanked the sword from its body and tossed it at him. It was a clumsy and untrained throw, one Harley easily ducked out of the way of. He grabbed up the sword as the creature crouched low and charged Amiel, chest thrust forward. Harley instantly knew its intent. It was going to impale Amiel with the same rebar that still protruded from its abdomen.
“Amiel!” Harley shouted, tossing the sword her way. She was ready, catching it midair, jumping upward seconds before the freak collided with her. Harley stumbled to his feet, rushing forward, heart pounding. A sword blade stuck out the back of the giant’s neck, and as Harley watched, the blade swiped to one side and then the other as Amiel sawed the blade back and forth in an effort to finish the job. A nasty spluttering sound issued from the giant’s throat as the head flopped to one side, blood spurting out all over Amiel’s face as the massive body crumpled on top of her.
“Hot damn, Amiel, I can’t believe you escaped that one.” Harley chuckled in relief as he moved forward to help push it off her. Finally they managed to roll the giant to the side, Amiel wincing as the rebar sticking out of her thigh pulled her along for the ride.
“Well, mostly escaped, anyways.” She laughed stiffly, pulling her leg off the bar. It made a gag-worthy sucking sound as it pulled free of the metal, and she immediately flopped over on her back. Harley knelt down, pulling a small bottle of alcohol, gauze and wraps from his jacket pocket’s inner lining. She stretched her leg upward so that it perched on his shoulder. He stared down at her, cheeks burning from the smoldering grin she sent his way.
“Gonna let me bleed to death, Superman?”
He blinked, thrown off balance by Amiel’s nickname for him. He peered closely at her face.
“Amiel?”
She blinked up at him innocently, her eyes entirely hers. “Yes?”
Harley felt off balance, internally trying to decide if he was talking with Amiel or if her Hybrid side was starting to play mind games with him by making it difficult for him to tell the difference between the two of them. He turned his attention to her thigh, quickly pouring the alcohol over the wound and ensuring there was no fabric caught inside her wound. She hardly seemed to notice any of it, her gaze locked firmly on him as he worked. Luckily, it looked like the bar had missed anything important, and it would be a quick heal. He risked a glance up at her as he wrapped her thigh. She stared at him with dazed eyes.
“Amiel?”
“I kick butt!” she whispered in awe. Harley’s brow creased as he watched her carefully.
“Were you…?”
She pushed up at the waist, her arms holding her upward as he finished wrapping.
“I saw everything! I mean, I wasn’t in control of what I did, but I actually saw what was going on. I didn’t get shoved under the surface like I usually do, and I have to say, I rock! I even have kick-butt comeback lines!”
Harley grinned brightly, leaning forward to press his forehead to hers.
“You’re somethin’ else, kid.” Maybe that was why it had taken longer for her to transition this time? Because the tags had let her stay? He suddenly pulled away, remembering her leg was still on his shoulder. He blushed, carefully sliding it off to rest on the ground. “Sorry. Good thing you’re flexible, huh?”
A sassy, sexy grin quirked her lips. “I can be.”
His brow rose and he cleared his throat. Looking deep into her eyes, he searched for the Hybrid part of her.
“Thanks for letting her stay.”
Her pupils pulsed, dilating and shrinking in answer. Amiel shivered dramatically. “Whoa, that’s weird. Don’t do that.”
Harley chuckled, unsure if she was talking to him or the tags. Running to his bike, he quickly retrieved the can of gas. Dousing the massive body took most of the contents. Harley paused with the lighter, waiting for Amiel to say her usual spiel on carrying the torch for their souls. It had become a tradition of sorts for them, one that he admired.
“I carried the torch for my brother. Now we carry the torch for you. Go to Hell, you big ugly jerk,” Amiel grumbled.
Harley couldn’t help the surprised chuckle as he set the body aflame. Slipping his arm under hers and around her waist, he helped her stand. Shifting her arm so that it wrapped around his waist, he held her hand firmly to his ribs, his other arm still wrapped securely around her to help her walk. Bending, Amiel grabbed up his sword, deftly wiping the ick off on her pants before twisting to slip it into its sheath on his back.
“I need to get me one of those.”
“One thing at a time, hellcat, one thing at a time.” Harley chuckled, helping her back to the bike. Things with Amiel and her Hybrid were starting to look up. Yet a part of him couldn’t help the pessimistic niggling in the back of his mind. Good things didn’t last long in this life. How long would it be before the other shoe dropped?
Chapter 36
Harley
Harley stomped down the hall of Foundation, searching out Cajun. They had things to discuss about big, ugly trolls wandering the streets.
He’d dropped Amiel off, safe and sound, at home to rest for the rest of the day. Her leg was going to hurt for a while, but she was determined she was going to work tonight whether it hurt or not. He grinned. Little hellcat. An unwelcome and musty scent suddenly assailed his nose, putting an instant frown on his face.
“I heard I missed a big fight, and a lashing.” Kyree popped out in front of him. Harley scowled, glancing down the hallway she’d come from, wondering how long she’d been there. From the heavy scent there, it had been quite some time. She’d been waiting for him, and it ticked him off to no end.
“None of your business.” Offering a huff, he walked around her, keeping his back to the wall. Immediately she dropped prone to the floor, hand outreaching to touch his foot. Harley jerked back from her touch, instinctual disgust simmering within. His Hybrid really hated that she had touched him with such intimate intent twice now.
He hadn’t been joking when he’d told Amiel that Hybrid “foot fetishes”, as she described it, were a very real intricacy in their way of life. When he’d thrown his shoe at Cajun, it had been done with the playful intent between brothers. When Cajun ducked and the shoe hit Kyree, her crazy brain had made the connection between the foot intimacy and the impact of his shoe to her head. She’d seen it as a twisted declaration of his intent toward her. Ever since then, she was always trying to touch his feet, trying to show him deference and intimate fealty.
Growing up, Harley had had three dogs: two females and one male. The females were always groveling at the male’s feet, lying on his feet and whining with their bellies exposed. The male would get frustrated and bite their heads, growl and bark at them. Yet they kept doing it, over and over. Harley decided they liked having their heads chomped. One day, Rabids had gotten ahold of the female dogs, and Harley would swear the male dog had danced around with relief from that day forward. Harle
y hadn’t understood it all then. Now, with Kyree making another grab at his ankle, he understood all too well.
“Get up,” Harley growled in annoyance, stepping away from her reach. “You’re embarrassin’ yourself. You ain’t gonna find what you’re lookin’ for here.” He turned his back and walked away in disgust.
“I wonder what Foundation would think if they knew about your little girlfriend,” Kyree hissed vengefully at his back. Harley froze, his Hybrid furiously scrabbling at his mind. Kyree climbed to her feet, slinking her way toward him. “Tell me, Second. How did you happen to find an unmarked Hybrid? She has no tattoo, so obviously it’s been some time since she was marked. How long has she been on the run?”
Harley felt an ounce of relief. She thought Amiel was a part of the Hybrid program who had somehow managed to run away, and the ink had simply faded with time. She didn’t understand Amiel’s true importance.
“It can’t be weeks, or even months. I’ve never seen her before, so she must have been before my time.” She sidled up to him, pressing against his chest with far too much intimacy. It repulsed him to the core. “I bet Foundation would love to have their property back. Perhaps I’ll ask her myself.”
Harley’s hand shot out, clasping about her throat and slamming her against the wall. Her feet dangled a foot off the ground, and her eyes widened with a crazed desperation.
“Be mine and I won’t say a word!” she croaked out. Harley’s fingers tightened in response, completely cutting off her ability to talk. He opened himself wide to his Hybrid, unleashed his full force on the quivering Hybrid before him.
“Mention her to anyone, go near her, and I will rip you to shreds.”
She closed her eyes, twisting her head to the side in quivering submission. Harley released her, letting her fall roughly to the ground. She rolled to her stomach, tucking her knees up under her belly, laying her head flat to the ground in a further show of submission.
Harley stalked away from the quivering mess on the floor, mind bursting into a hundred different directions. There was that shoe, dropping on his head like he feared it would. His old companion, “complication”, had just come back into play with a whole side of “danger” mixed in.
He’d cowed Kyree for now, his Hybrid submitting her under his strength of will and dominance as a Leader. But how long would that last? The weirdo was set on claiming him, and if there was one thing Harley knew about women, it was that Hell hath no fury like a scorned woman. And he’d just thrown a whole lotta scorn in her face. Harley changed his path, intent on heading back to Amiel’s apartment and explaining the matter, when his phone rang. The low battery light flashed just as the name “Tandy” scrolled across the screen. Harley immediately answered.
“Pop! Where ya been? Haven’t heard from ya in— ”
“I need ya, boy.” Tandy’s strained, out-of-breath voice sounded over the phone, and Harley’s stomach dropped.
“Where?” He was already on the move, heading straight to the garage and his bike. Tandy gave his coordinates, and Harley promised to be there as soon as he could. Hanging up, Harley dialed Cajun’s phone.
“Caj, I’m headed down into the Skirts for some down time.” Harley spoke quickly, knowing his brother would understand his words for what they were. He was going off the grid for reasons he couldn’t mention over the phone, and he needed him to cover.
“How long?” Cajun’s tone made it clear he got the message.
“A few days, maybe a week.”
“Gotcha. Are your loose ends covered here?” Amiel. Harley’s heart ached, knowing he’d have to leave her with the danger Kyree posed. He just hoped his warnings would hold their sway until he could get back.
“There’s a few unknowns in that area. I’m having shoe problems.” Harley paused, hoping Cajun would understand what he was referring to. Cajun often referred to Kyree as his shoe problem.
“I see,” came the slow reply.
“Maybe y’all can double check ’em for me.”
“Deal. Safe hunting.”
Harley hung up and sent a quick call to Amiel.
“Harley?” Her sleepy voice came over the line.
“We’re done—” He started to say they were done patrolling for a while, but his phone beeped loudly, signaling he was seconds away from a dead battery. He rushed on, cutting to the chase. “Too dangerous. Headed into the skirts for few days. Talk when I get back.” He glanced down at the phone when he heard no reply, seeing only a black screen. Cursing, Harley shoved the phone in his pocket and jumped on the bike. He’d have to hope she got the message and was safe until he got back. For now, he had to focus on saving his pop.
Chapter 37
Harley
“Toss the grenade; I’ll cover ya from here!” Harley shouted above the screams. Tandy nodded, coughing as smoke filled the room. Harley laid down fire as Tandy edged into the open, cocked his arm back and sent the small explosive hurtling toward the mass of Cutthroats and Rabids below them. The heated force of the explosion washed over their faces as they hit the deck, Rabids and Cuts screaming as they were engulfed in the explosion and debris.
Harley tapped Tandy on the ankle, signaling it was time to run. The older man stumbled to his feet, running in a limping gait across the catwalk, Harley following closely behind. They reached a window that led out onto the roof of the old building, and Harley sent up a silent prayer as they climbed out onto the rickety wood. They crossed the roof without incident, minus the time Tandy’s foot broke through a small hole in the roof. He wasn’t hurt, and it didn’t slow them down much. They finally made it to the edge, where they hunkered down, still shouting over the noise in the building beneath them.
“There’s some caves up in them dunes over the hills. There’s supplies stashed there. If we’re quick, we can make it to ’em, hopefully before anyone sees us.”
Harley thought for a moment, glancing to the west where he’d hidden his bike in a huge brush pile. He wished he could get to it and ride the hell outta here, but they had little other choice than to try for the dunes. The bike was too far and wouldn’t carry the both of them. They’d have to get to the dunes and hope they either had enough supplies there to hold them over until the Cuts and Rabids left, or enough weapons in those supplies to help them plow a path through them.
Jumping off the first-story roof, they rolled with the landing, taking most of the force from their fall. Immediately they took off running, Harley with his arm around his pop to help him. Harley glanced over their shoulders a few times, but there was no sign of pursuit. They ran for what felt like forever before the dunes loomed in the distance. In reality, it was likely only fifteen minutes. But when your heart is in your throat, with your back fully exposed, time moves an awful lot slower.
Tandy took the lead as they reached the dunes, stumbling along until they reached a wall of sand. Harley stared in awe as Tandy shoved a curtain aside, stepped inside and held it for him to follow. The curtain was painted to look just like the flowing sand around them. Had Tandy not pointed it out, Harley’s eyes would have skimmed right over it. Tandy led the way deep into the cave before a light finally filled the space around them. Harley’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked around.
“What the hell is this place, Pops, the bat cave?”
Tandy chuckled dryly. “For now, it’s our sanctuary.” He placed the lantern on the ground, slumping tiredly next to it.
“What’s that smell?” Harley groaned, pinching off his nose.
“Skunkroot. Masks our scent and keeps the Rabids away.”
“I can see why,” Harley muttered, eyes watering. Curious, he took the opportunity to look around. They were deep into the dune, the cavern pitch black, minus the lantern’s light. Several bends in the path they’d followed kept the lantern light from reflecting down to the entrance to give them away. Picking up the lantern, Harley made his way deeper into the vast room. He came across multiple boxes, crates and covered items. He approached a suspiciously sha
ped, tarp-covered object.
“Who’d ya say stashed this stuff?”
Tandy reached into a nearby crate and tossed him a dust mask to cover his nose. Harley grabbed it, gratefully stuffing it over his nose. It helped ward off the smell of the skunkroot, a little. Harley lifted the corner of the tarp, finding his answer.
“Did I forget to mention it was me?” Tandy chuckled quietly at Harley’s expression as he uncovered his car.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“Your first experiment?” Tandy adjusted his bum knee with a grunt. “Of course it is. I ain’t never left it behind in a move before; I sure ain’t gonna start now. Besides, I think Amiel would kill me if I did. She’s rather attached to the thing.”
Harley’s insides squeezed at the mention of Amiel. “That so?” He made his way back over to his pop’s side, kneeling down to rip open the denim and inspect the damage to his old man’s leg.
“Couldn’t get the girl to stay outta it; slept in it every night. Thought she’d cry when she had to leave it behind. Damn near bawled when she told me she blew out the back window with a shotgun.” Tandy winced when Harley prodded the swollen knee. “Hope she’s not sleepin’ with guns, still.” Harley grinned, grabbing out a wrap and binding up Tandy’s knee.
“Not that I know of. But she likes knives well enough.” Harley smirked, purposely letting Tandy wonder about that one.
“Heaven help us,” Tandy muttered.
“That should help the swellin’ go down if ya keep it elevated for a bit.”
“Gonna be here for a while anyways. Might as well,” Tandy grumbled. Harley looked at the ground, picking at a rock embedded in the sand.
“Care to fill me in on what the hell I just walked into back there, Pops?”
Harley had ridden for three hours into the desert, northeast and far from any of the waypoints his pops usually would have taken if he were on a run. Harley had stashed his bike when he’d seen what was in the distance: a small ghost town with crumbled buildings aside from one big hotel smack dab in the middle. And a whole lotta ruckus was coming out of that building. Cutthroats walked back and forth, standing guard outside. Harley had known for a fact that Tandy was in there; he’d told him so on the phone when he’d given the coordinates. Which only left Harley one question: how was he going to get in there without bringing them all down on his head?
