I stood up slowly, rubbing the spot where the beast had pulled out my hair and spitting mad. “Get back here. I’m not done with you yet.”
“Quiet, Emerson.”
Michael had been down the street from me, but, suddenly, he stood at my side, sai in hand, and shoved me against the building. He had his back to me, obviously trying to protect me. Reassuring, but I was too angry to appreciate the gesture at the moment.
“Get out of my way.” I pushed against his back, but it felt like trying to move a brick wall.
“Be still, you wee idiot.” Michael clenched his jaw. He was angry, which did nothing to improve my mood. I started pounding on his back, but he ignored me.
His friends appeared right next to us, and I stopped beating on Michael. I hadn’t seen them approach, but at this point I wasn’t exactly functioning at full capacity. They were breathing hard, but one of them managed to speak.
“He’s gone, Mikey. She’s safe.”
Michael turned and pushed the hair out of my face. He stared deep into my eyes, his hand brushing my cheek. “Are you hurt?”
His voice, so gentle and kind, made me snap. Slapping his hand away, I shoved him hard in the chest and put my fists on my hips.
“I’m not okay. Did you see that thing? It licked my neck. Absolutely ten shades of nasty and y’all were about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.”
When mad or scared, my southern came out, and I’d never been so mad or scared in my whole entire life. One hundred and ten pounds of frightened fury. I had to either spew some insults or sit down and cry, and I was not about to cry. Hugging my arms across my body, I willed myself to calm down, but it didn’t work.
Michael approached me, more cautiously this time. “Are you a complete lunatic? You’re lucky. Not many people can face a Moktar and live to tell the tale.”
“Lucky? You call that lucky?”
Michael raised one arrogant eyebrow at me. “Yes, I do. He was on the hunt, and he was…aroused.”
“Thank you. I noticed.” I poked him in the chest, forcing him to back up. “That thing pulled my hair.”
“Your hair?” Michael looked around at his friends, and had the audacity to grin. “She’s mad. Completely bonkers.”
“I don’t know what happened tonight, and I sure as heck don’t know what a Moktar is, Traveller Nightingale, but he’s going to rue the day he ever tried to mess with me, and you’d better stay away from me, too.”
I shoved Michael one more time and stomped away.
Chapter Five
If you don’t stop your crying, I’ll give you something to cry about.
~Grandma Sugar
Michael’s heavy footfalls echoed on the street behind me before I’d even made it half a block, which didn’t surprise me one bit. I’d known he’d come after me. I should have employed this strategy all along. Men liked the chase, whether they were after women, squirrels, or an ice cream truck.
“Emerson. Stop. Please.”
The “please” got me. I stopped, but kept my back to him, my arms folded tightly across my chest. Now that the horrific ordeal had ended, I was dangerously close to crying. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, forcing myself to hold it together as I tried to forget the blood, the gore, the monster, and the dead boy on the ground.
“We need to talk.”
“That’s the biggest understatement of the whole dang year.”
Michael didn’t respond, so I turned around slowly. He stood a few feet behind me, his head down, looking at his hands as if trying to figure out what to say. I was about to start yelling at him again, but noticed his hands and arms were scraped and bleeding, and felt kind of guilty.
“Are you okay?”
He looked up at me in surprise. “You were just attacked by a Moktar, and you’re asking if I’m okay?”
“I’m not the one bleeding.” I reached for his hands and pulled them into the light to inspect them. “You’ve got some nasty scrapes here. You might want to have a doctor take a look at this one.”
I ran my finger next to a long gash along the side of his wrist. If it had been an inch or so farther to the left, it might have hit a vein, and Michael could have been in real trouble.
“Why are you being kind to me?”
I gave him a level look. “You’re hurt.”
He raised one dark eyebrow. “A few minutes ago, you wanted to hurt me.”
I pursed my lips. “A fairly typical reaction to a stressful situation. I’m calming down now.”
He muttered, “That was fast,” but I ignored him and went back to looking at his wounds. His leather jacket had zippers extending from his wrists up to his forearms, and I unzipped them to get a better look. It seemed like most of the damage had been done to his wrists and the backs of his hands.
“That thing didn’t look like it spent a great deal of time on personal hygiene. Goodness only knows what could be on its paws…or claws…or whatever. Anyway, these could get infected.” I turned his hands over to look at his palms, and checked his fingers one by one.
He watched me, his body very still. “It’s fine. Nothing soap and water can’t fix.” I looked up at him with a scowl. He wasn’t taking this seriously enough.
“Soap, water, a little disinfectant, and a surgeon, maybe.”
“A surgeon?” he asked, blue eyes full of derision.
I let go of his hands, and took a step back. “I’m sure you’re too tough to go to a doctor. You’ll probably stitch it up yourself using a rusty needle or something. Good for you.”
I was ready to turn and walk away again, but Michael stopped me. “I would at least sterilize the needle first.”
His voice was soft, and when I looked at him in surprise, I saw the faintest hint of a smile pass over his lips. That moment marked the first time I’d seen him smile, and, sadly, it ended before it started. His face reverted back to its serious self almost instantly.
The smile made me foolish. I set my backpack on the ground and took out the little first aid kit inside. I found a tube of antibacterial cream, grabbed Michael’s hands again, and tried to cover the worst of the cuts. It was hard to see, but I did my best.
Michael studied me in silence for a few minutes, and then cleared his throat. “We need to talk.”
“You said that already.” I finished up and put a bandage on the cut bleeding the worst. It had “Hello, Kitty!” on it. I had to swallow a smile at the expression on his face.
He sighed. “I don’t know where to start.”
I shoved the first aid kit back into my backpack. “How about at the beginning?”
He proceeded to pace back and forth, opening his mouth once and then closing it. I pursed my lips. He was doing a very poor job of talking to me. I decided to make it easier for him.
“Why don’t you start by telling me what those things were?”
His eyebrows drew together. “The Moktar?”
“I’m from southern Kentucky. I’ve seen a lot of weird stuff in my life, but never anything quite like that. Is it going to come back?”
He looked over his shoulder, scanning the street and the surrounding buildings. It made me a little nervous. “Not tonight. Can we talk as I escort you back to your flat?”
We walked in silence. I was about to start pushing him again for answers when he began to speak.
“Do you know the tales about monsters and bogeymen and things that go bump in the night that frightened you when you were small? That was all of them rolled into one big furry parcel, and much, much more.”
“And you kill them. That makes you a hero.” I tried to coax another smile out of him. It didn’t work.
“It’s my job.”
“Who do you work for?”
“A higher authority.” His voice was clipped and emotionless.
I rolled my eyes. “Could you be a little vaguer, please?”
“Oh, you drive me…” The emotionless tone to his voice vanished. Now it held an edge of anger to it. He took a deep
breath, calming himself. “I can’t explain everything, but I can tell you the Moktar are evil, soulless, beasts.”
“Where do they come from?” I asked. He gave me a shrug, clearly indicating he wasn’t going to answer. I wanted to smack him. “Why have I never heard of them before?”
Michael nibbled on the silver ring on his lip. “It’s kept secret.”
“I’m sure you aren’t going to tell me who made that decision either.” As expected, I got another shrug. I took a deep breath through my nose and exhaled slowly through my mouth. “What can you tell me?”
Michael frowned. “This is very difficult, Emerson. I’ve never told anyone these things before. Why do you have to make it even more challenging?”
I paused, trying to see his side of it. “I’m sorry. I know I have a problem with sassing people. Grandma Sugar has warned me about it a million times.”
He rubbed a hand over his head. The “Hello, Kitty!” bandage looked very out of place on his tattooed, brawny body.
“There is something you must understand, but it’s going to be difficult for you to accept.”
We were only a block away from my apartment, and part of me wanted to run straight to my soft, warm bed, pull the covers up over my head, and pretend none of this had ever happened. Another part of me, the bigger and more idiotic part, was dying to hear what Michael tried so hard to avoid telling me.
“What is it?”
He sighed, his blue eyes sad. “You aren’t going to be able to live here anymore. You’ll have to come and stay with us.” His voice was low and soft, and it took me a second to understand what he’d just said.
“What are you talking about?”
He put his hands on my arms. I think he wanted to shake me, but he held himself back. He took a deep breath.
“When that Moktar grabbed you, it changed everything. They’re hunters, and you just became his prey. He’s going to track you, Emerson.”
I backed away a few feet. He let go of me, which was wise. “I’ll be careful. I’ll lock my door and won’t go out at night again, promise. I won’t go out at all, in fact.”
Michael shook his head. “It’s not just your own safety you must consider. You don’t live alone.”
Lucinda’s face flashed into my mind. “Is my roommate in danger?”
“As long as you come with me, the answer is no.”
I swallowed hard. “Are you threatening me?”
When he spoke, his voice sounded very old and tired. “I ran away from you. Don’t you remember? But you were silly and impulsive and wanted to flirt with danger. Well, now you have your wish.” Michael’s mouth narrowed into a hard, angry line.
“But what about school?”
My brain felt like it moved through slush. Michael was telling me about being hunted by a monster, and all I could think of was poetry class.
He looked at me like I was an idiot, but at least he answered my question. “The Moktar have no pigment and can’t come out during the day. You’re safe to go to class.”
“Why is he after me?” My body started to tremble as the reality of my situation began to sink in.
“I don’t know.” Michael kept his steady gaze on me, which helped me keep it together. “That’s an important question. I meant it when I said you were lucky. I’ve never seen a Dweller get that close to a Moktar and live to tell the tale.”
“A Dweller?”
Michael’s eyes took on a shuttered look, like he’d said something he hadn’t meant to say. He looked embarrassed. “Someone who isn’t a Traveller.”
“I know about Travellers. After Mrs. Burke told me about you, I researched it online.”
I sounded pathetic. I was grateful for the darkness so Michael couldn’t see how red my cheeks had turned.
“You know all about us, eh?” He made a noise that sounded an awful lot like a snort.
My cheeks burned even hotter. “I’d never heard of Travellers before, and I was curious.”
“You know that’s what killed the cat, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. Thank you very much.” I’d heard that expression from Grandma Sugar more times than I could count. “How did Mrs. Burke know?”
“They always seem to know. I’m not sure how it happens. It was only a matter of time before she asked me to stop patronizing her fine establishment.” His voice was soft as he stared down at his boots. I wanted to tell him I didn’t think less of him because he was a gypsy, but the words just wouldn’t come out.
“What do the Moktar usually do…to Dwellers?”
“Kill them, and then eat them. That’s what the Moktar wants to do to you, and he won’t give up, Emerson. Did you see the way that Moktar went after my friend’s body? And he wasn’t even tracking him. It’ll be one hundred times worse for you. The only way you’ll be safe is if we kill him first.”
I swallowed, feeling the panic settling into my chest like a rock sinking in a lake. “I’m only here for a few months. I have to go home in December.”
“That’s more than enough time. Trust me. I can kill him.”
He pulled himself up to his full height. He was huge. I’d known he was tall, but hadn’t realized how broad until I stood right next to him.
I stared at him, blinking back tears, as my whole world crumbled around me. “So my options are: Go with you or be hunted to the ends of the earth by a hairy Moktar who wants to eat me for supper?”
Michael tried to suppress a smile as he looked at me from head to toe. “You’d barely qualify as an appetizer, but yes, those are your choices. Come with me or die.”
Sun Tzu had written an entire chapter on evaluating the intentions of others. It had come in handy during my time on the pageant circuit, and now as well. I didn’t like my options, but remembering the Moktar’s teeth and the flash of cruelty in his yellow eyes made my decision easier. Michael might not like me, but at least he was human.
“I guess Grandma Sugar was right.” He raised one dark eyebrow in question. “She always told me if you can’t run with the big dogs, you should stay on the porch. I should have stayed on the porch.”
“It’s too late now.”
“Don’t I know it.” My bottom lip started to tremble slightly, and I steadied myself. “Well, Michael Nightingale, I guess I’m going with you.”
Sun Tzu was probably rolling in his two-thousand-year-old Chinese grave at the moment, but I was doing my best. I was twenty years old, alone in a foreign country, and scared. Surely, even a great warrior like Sun Tzu would understand those factors. He might even sympathize.
Michael made a noise a bit like a grunt. “Very wise.”
“Now I don’t get called that very often.” I turned and started toward my apartment. I had to pack up for what looked like an extended stay with the Travellers. I didn’t know how to explain this one to Lucinda.
He stopped me by grabbing my hand. “I’ll keep you safe, Emerson. I promise.”
It sounded like a vow. I looked up into his eyes, so beautifully, piercingly blue. I might be a complete fool, and Michael Nightingale was nothing but trouble, but somehow, when he told me he would keep me safe, I believed him.
Chapter Six
Oh, Toto. I don’t think we’re in Kentucky anymore.
~Grandma Sugar
Entering the dark, quiet apartment, I was relieved not to have to face Lucinda, who had already gone to bed. I showed Michael to the bathroom so he could wash off the worst of the blood, and went to my bedroom to pack.
“Now what does one take when on the run from a Moktar beast?” I pondered.
“Only what you need for tonight. You can come back in the morning to get anything else you require.”
Michael leaned against the doorjamb, blotting his hands dry with a paper towel. The “Hello, Kitty!” bandage was gone, but blood still trickled slowly from his wound.
“You need another band aid.” I pushed him out of the doorway and led him back into the bathroom. He sat on the toilet as I looked through my
things.
“You have three choices.” I held up a “Barbie” bandage, one with pink fairies on it, and a purple one covered in glitter. He gave me a rather hostile look, and pointed to the purple one. I put it on over his cut, trying to be as gentle as possible.
“All better,” I said with a smile.
I held his hands in mine, examining his other wounds in the bright light of the bathroom. My assessment outside had been correct. The gash on his left arm, next to his wrist, was the worst. Michael had cleaned it well, and it had stopped bleeding, but looked deep.
“You seem to know what you’re doing,” he said.
“My granddaddy is a country doctor. I worked in his office during the summer and sometimes after school. Not too exciting, but I learned how to take care of a few cuts and bruises.”
“Is your father a doctor, too?”
“Oh, heavens no. He practically faints at the sight of blood. He’s the biggest scaredy-cat ever.”
“What does he do?”
“He teaches military history at Western Kentucky University. That’s where I go to school.” I pointed to the wound that looked the worst. “You need stitches for this one.”
He studied it. “I can take care of it right now. Will you help me?”
I swallowed hard. “No, I cannot stitch your arm back together. I’m sorry. I can’t. Granddaddy tried to teach me, and the results were less than spectacular.”
Michael grinned, and then bit his lip in that absurdly sexy way of his. “I don’t want you to stitch it. The only thread you have would probably be pink with sparkles. No, thank you. I just want you to hold it together for me so I can glue it.”
“Glue it?”
Michael stood up and dug into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a small tube. “Medical glue. It works wonders.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You carry this around in your pocket? How often do you get torn up, Mr. Nightingale?”
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