by K. C. Hamby
“Mysterious, huh?” I arch an eyebrow and she nods her head dramatically. “Okay, fair enough. What’s your favorite food?”
“Oh, pizza without a doubt. Especially pepperoni. Ugh, it’s so good.” She’s practically salivating. I duck my head.
“I’ve never actually had pizza before.”
Nina stops walking so suddenly, I have to turn around to look at her.
“I’m sorry, what?”She’s staring at me like I’ve committed the worst crime.
“I uh…yeah well the diet I’m on doesn’t really call for anything other than healthy food…” In reality, I’m not on a diet, but fatty foods have never made me feel good and Lupi are at our best when we eat healthy. So, I always eat healthy. Always.
“You mean fun-sucker food,” she scolds and crosses her arms over her chest, refusing to continue walking. “You have to think about trying pizza with me. I only say with me so you can prove you actually try it.” She stares, attempting to intimidate me with her glare. It’s kind of working.
I don’t understand why she intimidates me so much. It’s like my mind doesn’t know how to say no to her. This must be what it’s like to have a drug addiction. I want to say no, but my body says otherwise.
“Okay, fine. I’ll think about it.” Nina claps her hands together like a seal and finally continues walking. I shake my head and resume my position beside her. She is so odd.
“Anyway,” she chirps, “what’s your favorite kind of music?”
I open my mouth and close it. I’m stumped for an answer. I think on it, flying through all the music I know in my head.
“Was….that too personal?”
“Oh, no. I just never talk about myself, so it’s a hard thing to get used to.” Her eyes fill with something resembling pity and I hurry to answer so I can squash that. “I don’t have a particular genre I listen to. I like anything with substance; anything that can make me feel something.”
Probably because I never feel anything otherwise. I have to get it from somewhere.
“I like that. Music without meaning is only good for dancing.” She starts attempting to beatbox and dance at the same time. I can’t help but laugh at her nerve. People watch her as they walk by, but she doesn’t seem to care.
“Whoa there. People are going to ask you for autographs if you don’t calm down.” She keeps making me laugh. I thought only Ash could do that. It’s weird.
“Okay, okay.” She stops dancing and dramatically wipes fake sweat from her brow. “Being a dancing queen is hard work.” I laugh. She locks eyes with me and slowly smiles. “You should laugh more often. It’s nice.”
“Uh, right,” I stutter and pull my eyes away from hers. “My turn.” I avoid what she said all together and swallow what feels like cotton balls in my throat. Why does she do this to me? “Why are you a writer?”
She scrunches her button nose in thought and the wind blows the strands of her hair into her face again. I have the sudden urge to brush them off for her.
Wait, what?
“I have so many thoughts and ideas.” She moves her hands wildly in the air with her words. “I love weaving them into words that can bring tears to people’s eyes or make them so happy, they forget why they were sad in the first place.” She has passion. It lights up her face when she talks about writing. Her eyes grow wide and wild. “I started when I was younger, writing through pain that I didn’t understand. I was a natural and even got some of my poems featured in my high school newspaper. My alias was Wandering Bird.” She giggles to herself, pushing away dark thoughts flashing in her eyes for only a moment. “I don’t know. My younger years were emotionally difficult for me to deal with. Writing got me through it. It still does.” She sighs and her eyes gloss over like she’s somewhere else far from here and in a different time. I watch her, wondering what could be floating through her mind.
“But, anyway, enough about that.” She awkwardly laughs at herself. I glance at her curiously. She’s insecure about her past. “What kind of work do you do?” she asks in a playful tone, attempting to change the subject.
Shit.
Now it’s my turn to stop walking. I don’t want to ignore the question and I have no idea why. I need to ignore the question.
Ignore the damn question, Fal.
But goddess knows I can’t trust my mouth around Nina. She did say I could be vague..
“Uh.” Nina is looking at me with concern and expectation lacing her doe eyes. We are face to face on the sidewalk now and I find it hard to meet her gaze. “I have the responsibility of making unjust things….” I pause, trying to think of the right word, “..just.” Nina squints at me, confused. I don’t blame her.
“So, let me get this straight. You’re like an FBI agent or something? I was only kidding when I said that before.” She lifts a perfect brow at me and I smirk.
“Yeah, sure. Something like that,” I give and we begin walking again. Nina is quiet, which, I’m beginning to figure out is not normal for her.
“That explains a lot.”
“What do you mean by that?” I prod her for more information.
“Just that it makes sense why you could kick that guy’s ass so well. You’re like, a professional ass kicker.” She shrugs. “That’s all.” I smile and let out a laughing huff. This conversation has lightened my mood substantially.
I suddenly catch the sound of something coming up behind us and coming fast.
I grab Nina and pull her out of the way before a bicyclist who isn’t paying attention rams into her. He speeds past us, nearly falling into the street and slings profanity at us for being in his way. I seethe as I watch him speed off.
“Are you okay?” I ask her as I continue watching the guy ride off, not even looking at her to see if she actually is okay.
“Yeah,” she says breathlessly and her voice is so close to my ear, I flinch. I glance down and realize what I did.
The way I grabbed her, I turned her around to face me. She’s closer to me than she has ever been; she’s breathing my air and her face is merely inches from mine.
Her scent is assaulting me more than usual. Lavender.
Our eyes lock and I recognize the other scent I haven’t been able to figure out. Vanilla. It’s intoxicating in the worst way. The soothing fragrance is taking over all my senses and overwhelming me. Nina slides her gaze down my face and I snap out of whatever spell I’m under when our eyes are no longer locked. I drop my hands from her shoulders and take a step back.
“Are you okay?” Worry mixes with her powerful scent.
I can’t answer her. My voice is held captive.
“Fal?” she whispers and tries pulling my attention.
“Uh, I…do you know where you are?” I ask frantically, searching for an escape.
“I mean, yeah I do, but Fal…”
“Okay good. I have to go.” And just like that, I turn around and walk as fast as I can without seeming like I’m absolutely crazy. I find the first alleyway I can to turn down and run for it.
I run for a long time. I run until I can’t smell her on me anymore. I run until the thoughts of her being close to me slow down; until all I’m thinking about is putting a substantial amount of distance between us. My wolf stirs in my chest, wanting me to turn around.
I stop in another alleyway and lean against the brick building so I can catch my breath. My heart is beating like a war drum against the bones of my chest.
“What…the hell…just happened?” I think I ran halfway across the city. I just…I don’t know. I felt so out of control in that moment with Nina. But, the bad part is I didn’t mind it. I still don’t.
What am I thinking? What is wrong with me? Of course I mind it! I can’t deal with feelings like this. I don’t understand them. I liked being close to Nina. I liked her scent being all around me and looking into her sapphire eyes and seeing all her freckles so close to me. I liked the loose strands of her hair running across my face..
“No!” I scream and pace
up and down the alley with my hands squeezing the sides of my head. I can’t do this.
I can hear my heart pounding. I can’t believe I acted that way. I just left her there. I just ran away from her. Goddess, I’m such an ass!
Wait. No. What does that matter? If I stayed there, who knows what would have happened? She was so close to me..
“Dammit!” I yell out my frustration at the alley wall while slamming my fist into the hard brick. Pieces fall to the ground when I pull back and an indention of my fist is clearly visible in the wall. Of course, this makes my hand hurt and opens little cuts on my knuckles, but that’s nothing new. It doesn’t make me feel better in the slightest.
My wolf is frustrated. She wants to come out and go back and find Nina, but I can’t let her; I won’t let her. Nina is going to bring my wolf back to me if I don’t stay away from her and I don’t deserve my wolf.
I lean back against the wall and blow out a loud breath.
I need to stay away from Nina. That’s the end of it. Whatever that was; whatever it was going to be is over now. I’m emotionally all over the place. I can’t live like this and be able to do my job too.
I slow my erratic breathing and push myself off the wall. I make my way down the breezy alley and head in the direction of the building where I start the mission tonight. I step out of the alley and onto the busy sidewalk.
I stop in my tracks. Eyes are on me. I can sense them. It’s making every muscle in my body tense.
I look to the right. Nothing.
I glance to my left and freeze.
Damien.
Or, I think I saw him. I blink and he just vanishes.
I look around frantically, trying to find that awful face I’m way too familiar with due to his recurrence in my nightmares, but I don’t see him anywhere. I shake it off and continue on to the squatter building. Maybe I’m just rattled from Nina. Her scent is making me hallucinate.
Yeah, that’s totally it.
It was already going to be a long night, but with all this time I have to sit around and do nothing but think about not thinking about Nina, I’m afraid it just got a lot longer.
Chapter 12
My heart still hasn’t calmed down from my earlier encounter with Nina, even though it’s been several hours. It’s steadily beating harder than usual against my sternum. If it keeps this up, I won’t have any bone left to protect my stupid heart and that’s not something I can get a skin graft for.
The wind blows hair across my face and I pull it back to french braid it all the way to the ends. I’ve already changed my clothes for the mission. My garb consists of my black, tight pants, black long-sleeve shirt, black leather jacket, and black combat boots. Black, black, and more black. It is an outer representation of my soul, I think.
I’m pacing on the rooftop of the building across from the squatter and I desperately need to calm down.
“Fine.” I huff and sit down with my legs crossed. I close my eyes, take a slow, deep breath in, and let it out. “Hecate, I seriously need some help here.” I throw all the formalities off the building. “Please.”
Calm washes over me and my Chosen mark tingles.
Falen.
My eyes pop open. I know that voice. It sounds the same as it did in my dream. Hecate. She brings the calming essence of divination and peace with her eerie voice.
Some things are not meant to be fought. Remember that, Kóri.
My eyes burn. Daughter. She called me her daughter.
Her essence starts to recede. “Wait, Hecate! What am I not supposed to fight? Wait!” But she’s gone and I’m left without an answer and with a whole lot of confusion.
“Great,” I mutter to myself and stand up. I pull the weapons I’ll be carrying out of my bag. I secure five throwing knives, a dagger, and two extra clips for my pistol in my belt, slip my favorite knife in my boot, and secure the pistol in its holster on my thigh. I fasten my springblade to my wrist and swipe black paint over my eyes in a wide line and all the way up into my hairline.
I sigh, put the paint and pocket mirror I use away, and slip on my black, leather gloves. I glance at my watch.
It’s nearly go time.
I grab my rifle and lie on my stomach at the edge of the roof. My gun and my attention are facing the squatter building. The breeze blows against my face and my mind focuses. I send a silent thanks to Hecate, even though I’m frustrated beyond imagination with her right now.
My watch chimes, alerting me it’s time to get this show on the road.
I peek through the scope of my rifle and, just like clockwork, two meatheads emerge from the building to stand watch outside. The text messages were right. Luckily, the guy I killed last night isn’t supposed to be on duty right now.
One of the guys stops right outside of the door, giving me a clear shot. The other takes a left—or a right for him—and walks along the side of the building until he disappears around the corner. I can’t see him. I’ll have to improvise.
Right now, I place the first meathead’s forehead right in the middle of my sights and slide my aim a tiny amount to the left to compensate for the wind.
Focus, Fal.
I softly place my finger on the trigger and breathe in.
Putting pressure on the trigger, I breathe out.
My rifle slightly kicks back into my shoulder, but doesn’t make a sound when it sends a silent bullet through the air and straight through the middle of the guard’s forehead.
I lift my head up from behind my scope and watch the meathead’s body slump against the wall and slide down to the pavement. Blood and brain fragments coat the wall behind where he was standing. I push myself up, put my backpack on my shoulders, and shoulder my rifle. I peer down to the street and Ash is there, already cleaning up the first guard.
I pull my attention back to what I need to do next to keep this ball rolling. I need to take out the other meathead.
I glimpse over to the next building.
Surely, I’ll be able to see him from there.
I do not want to pause too long to think about it. The only problem is the wide gap separating the building I’m on and the one I should be on.
“Oh, what the hell?” I ask myself and break into a sprint.
I reach the edge of the roof and launch myself into the air with all my strength; strength I don’t need. It’s an easy jump. I fly across the gap between the buildings and land in a squat. I peer down to the alley below with a shaky breath. I almost over jumped.
I drop to all fours and crawl to the edge of the building. After setting up my rifle, I peer through the scope.
There, leaning against the wall smoking a joint—by the smell of it—is meathead number two. His left side is facing me, so I aim for his left temple, right above his ear. He lifts the joint up to his lips, but he never gets one last pull before my bullet glides into his skull. A gasp escapes his mouth before he falls dead to the ground with a louder than necessary thud.
To human ears, the fall would be nearly silent, but it sounded like a blaring alarm to me. I hold my breath, waiting for swarms of guards to run out of the building, canvassing the area for who killed their meathead brothers. But no one comes. I blow out a relieving sigh, my lips tilting in a smirk, and stand to head down to the street.
I’m running so fast, I’m gliding down the fire escape. I find Ash cleaning up the second guy. I store my rifle and backpack in Ash’s SUV he skillfully hid in the alley and wait for him to put the guards in the trunk.
When he’s done, I meet him at the front of the SUV. He has on black pants, a black shirt, a black leather jacket, black leather gloves, and black combat boots. His dark amber eyes shine at me from behind black paint covering his skin. His wolf is lying in wait.
My eyes roll over the weapons he decided to bring. He has not one, but two pistols attached at his hip, his favorite dagger with an amber stone in the pommel—I have one just like it--, a spring blade on his wrist too, but what’s most amusing is the giant axe str
apped to his back. It’s all matte black except for the silver sharpened blade. I arch my eyebrow at him, looking pointedly at the axe and smirk, crossing my arms over my chest.
“What?” He shrugs. “You never know.” He sticks out his tongue at me like a child and fastens the chain cutters to his back alongside the axe.
I shake my head in exasperation and lead the way. Picking the lock again takes only seconds and, when I hear the click of success, I silently push the door open. My body instantly finds the darkness and I creep along the walls with the shadows concealing me. I check over my shoulder and Ash is nearly invisible to even me. It always impresses me how well he can blend since he is so tall and buff, but then again, I forget that he was supposed to be the Alpha of his class.
I peek around the left corner into the room with the green, dingy couch and TV. Ash and I both freeze.
There’s a guard watching the flat screen. I silently sigh. I can’t leave anyone alive except the girls I’m rescuing. If I do, they’ll keep doing things like this and will make my job of freeing their captives a lot more difficult. Guilt washes over me.
I creep up behind the meathead. He’s sitting in the middle of the couch with his arm over the back of the cushion. I peer down at his overly hairy arm and see something that makes me throw every ounce of my guilt out the window.
Scratch marks. He has scratch marks all over his arms. My nose picks up a coppery scent on him.
Blood. And it’s not his.
I hold in a snarl. He’s just as guilty as Boss. I clamp my hands hard on each side of his head and give a quick and strong twist. His neck snaps, cutting off the blood and oxygen flow to his brain and severing the nerves coiling up his backbone to his skull. Paralysis kicks in and he falls quietly to the cushions. I tiptoe back to Ash who’s waiting in the hallway. We check the bedrooms located on the first floor and find nothing.
We slink our way to the kitchen and stop. The light is on. I slide my eyes to Ash’s. He’s shifted his eyes so he can have the sight of his wolf. They glow dark amber back at me. Smart.
