by Amy Patrick
I don’t know why, but this girl’s insistence on putting her life at risk in that drug-infested neighborhood is driving me nuts. She’s clearly unfamiliar with the area. What is she doing out here all alone? Doesn’t anyone realize she’s far too naïve to even be in the good parts of this city? Where are her parents? Where are her friends?
My fingertips dig into the back of her seat. “Look at me please.”
At first she doesn’t move, but then she slowly turns her face toward me.
“What is your name?” I ask.
“Laney.”
“Laney what?”
She opens her mouth but hesitates. Finally she says, “Just Laney. What’s yours?”
“Culley Rune. And where are you from, Just Laney?” Because I’m going to make it my personal mission to send you back there—today if possible.
She must be reading my mind because she gives me a vague answer. “The Midwest.”
“Where exactly?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m a curious guy.” I wait for a more specific answer until it’s clear she’s not going to give one. “Okay fine. I’m taking you to a hotel in a safe area for tonight. Tomorrow, you’re going to get on a bus or a plane or a train or however the hell you got out here from wherever the hell you’re from, and you’re going back there where you belong before you get yourself hurt or worse.”
I expect anger, defiance, or maybe resignation if I’m lucky. But there’s none of that in her eyes. She gazes at me with the strangest expression.
Ah, I know what this is. I’m used to it by now. While some humans respond to my appearance with immediate lust or desire in their eyes, others are thrown off balance by all the sensory input. It’s an effect of my glamour.
But then... this one is different somehow. I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“No thank you,” she says sweetly. “All the hotels out here are pretty expensive. You know what? Just drop me off at one of the beaches, and I’ll sleep there tonight. I like the feel of the sand, and with the sound of the ocean it’ll be like falling asleep to my sound machine in my room back home.”
“That—is ridiculous.” I don’t understand why, but I can feel my blood pressure rising. The temperature inside the car has increased by at least fifteen degrees in the last minute. I lower the windows, letting in some air and the sounds of traffic from the nearby street.
“You can’t sleep on the beach.” I jam my hand into my back pocket and draw out my wallet, ripping a couple of hundreds from it and jabbing them at her. “I’ll pay for the hotel.” Delving back in again, I pull out more bills. “In fact, here—have a plane ticket on me.”
Her fingers extend toward mine, passing over the money, seeking and finding my skin. She squeezes my hand briefly then lets it go.
“Thank you. Really. But I’m fine. I don’t need your money or your pity. I can take care of myself.” She pauses and smiles. “You know, I believe I will call a cab after all. You’ve been so kind, and I don’t want to trouble you any further.”
I’m being dismissed. She doesn’t want my help. She doesn’t want my money. Hell, she doesn’t even want a ride from me. Who is this girl?
The sound of my phone’s ringer startles me, making me realize I’ve been staring at her face. That’s a first—I’m usually the recipient of human stares, not the other way around. I pick up my phone and check the screen. It’s my father. Damn it.
“I have to answer this. Hold on.” I hold up a finger to her to signal that our conversation is not over yet.
Ignoring the gesture, Laney puts one hand on the door handle, preparing to get out of the car. She turns back to me. “Thank you for what you did today.” Then she leans close for a conspiratorial whisper. “You might not think you’re one of the good guys, Culley Rune—but you’re wrong.”
Then she brushes my cheek with a soft kiss and opens the door, stepping out onto the sidewalk and taking the kitten with her. Blinking against a feeling of sudden disorientation, I answer the phone.
“Yes, Father?” My eyes follow Laney to the end of the block where she stops at the corner. I lift my hand and scratch the place her lips touched my face, attempting to erase the lingering sensation they left behind. It’s a strange tingling, an annoying warm tickle like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
“You missed your drop.” Audun’s every word is imbued with a menace that would no doubt make the rest of his underlings tremble. Luckily, I’ve been inoculated with small doses my entire life, so it has a lesser effect on me.
“Yes Father.”
“Well? What happened? Our associate waited as long as he was comfortable, and then he got nervous and left. That is unacceptable. What is your explanation?”
Through the windshield I watch Laney step up to the crossing sign pole and slide her hand down its side until she reaches the signal button, apparently intending to cross the street. To where? I thought she was calling a cab. Where is she going? Does she even know where she is?
“Culley?”
“I... got busy. I apologize. It won’t happen again.”
He snorts. “I should hope not. The last thing you need is another failure.”
I roll my eyes at his reference to Ava and our bonding-that-never-happened. Naturally I can’t let on that I lied about it without his realizing it. It’s the one card I have in my pocket with him. It’s better for me if he doesn’t figure out I’m immune to his lie detecting glamour. So I told him Ava had used her glamour on me to make me believe we had bonded, when we actually had not. And then she had disappeared into thin air after our engagement ring commercial shoot.
He was infuriated by my “weakness” of course and ordered me to find her. I told him she must have removed most of my memories of her as well because I had no idea where to even begin looking.
“I’ll make the delivery first thing tomorrow,” I promise him.
The walk signal starts flashing in the pedestrian walkway sign, accompanied by a piercing beep for the visually impaired. Laney begins to step out into the crosswalk.
“Listen, I need to go. I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”
I hang up, already opening my car door and leaping out. Because I’ve figured out why Laney wasn’t properly afraid of that godforsaken neighborhood, and why she never looked those thugs in the eye, and why when she looked at me, she wasn’t glamoured like everyone else.
She couldn’t see me.
She couldn’t see any of it.
Laney is blind.
Chapter Two
Nowheresville
The crosswalk signal is flashing a warning and counting down three... two... one... by the time I reach it.
Darting across, I push through the other pedestrians to catch up with Laney. Before I reach her, she lifts her foot to step up on the lip of the curb, and it comes down wrong on the uneven surface, tripping her. As she falls forward, her legs splay behind her and into the street. The cat springs from her arms and lands—on its feet of course—on the sidewalk.
The next part happens in slow motion, as if I’m watching a movie. I take in the changing of the traffic light from red to green. The turning and gawking by the other street-crossers. The asshole driver behind the wheel of a bright yellow and black Lamborghini who’s got his eyes on his phone instead of the road and his foot revving the massive engine impatiently.
And I know exactly how this is going to play out. He’ll glance up, catch the green light from one corner of his distracted gaze, and hit the gas without ever seeing the girl who’s fallen into his path.
Heart plummeting, I leap to close the distance between me and Laney, scooping one arm under her waist as she gets to her hands and knees, and haul her to the sidewalk, landing in a painful skid that removes nearly all the skin from one of my elbows.
The roar of the Lamborghini’s engine drowns all other sound for several moments as it spins its tires and lunges into the intersection like a pouncing predator. I watch its yellow bumpe
r and red taillights, fighting for breath and trying to calm my racing pulse.
“What... what happened?” Laney sounds as dazed as she looks.
“Oh my God—that guy almost ran her down! Anybody get that license plate?” someone calls.
I help her to sit up, and a woman in a vintage-style dress and pumps with cherry red-dyed hair rushes over, squatting down and brushing Laney’s disheveled hair back from her face. “Are you okay honey? Do you need an ambulance?”
“No. I’m... fine. I’m not hurt,” she answers, now turning her head as if looking around for clues as to what’s just transpired. Or maybe she’s searching for the cat. It’s darted to the base of the light pole, away from the foot traffic.
The concerned woman nods and takes Laney at her word, moving away along with the rest of the busy Angelenos. I get to my feet and slide my grip under Laney’s arms, pulling her to a standing position then move my hands down to her waist to keep her steady.
The guy who was looking for the license plate number comes over and slaps my back. “Good job man. I thought your girlfriend was toast. You’ve got some moves.”
Finally I say something, addressing the guy and waving off his praise. “Not really. Just lucky, I think.”
Laney’s body stiffens. “What are you doing here?” she says quietly. “I told you—I don’t need your help.”
If I thought it would have any effect on her, I might have rolled my eyes. Instead, I let the tone of my voice do the job. “I beg to differ. Your legs very nearly became a Lambo-waffle. Why, pray tell, do you not use a sight dog—or a cane?”
She goes even more rigid. “I’m on the waiting list for a dog. And a cane would make me stand out. People already treat me like an invalid—I want to be treated like everyone else. Besides, I’ve never needed a cane before. I’m not completely blind... yet. I manage really well at home and in... my hometown.” Her expression finally looks chastened. “Things are different here.”
“Um, yeah. You could say that. And you can also come along and get back in my car—without arguing,” I add as she opens her mouth to argue.
She huffs. “Where is my kitten?”
“Your kitten? So you really are trying to steal my pet, eh?”
She does roll her eyes. “You don’t care about him and we both know it. Here kitty. Here kitty kitty,” she calls.
The kitten runs to her side, rubbing against her bare leg. Laney bends and lifts its skinny body with one hand, tucking it into the crook of her elbow.
Taking her free hand, I slide my other arm behind her back and start walking, causing her to stumble along beside me to keep up. “Where were you going?”
Her lips clamp together stubbornly, reminding me of a defiant little girl.
“You were headed for the beach, weren’t you?” I demand.
“I asked someone where the nearest bus stop was, and they told me it was across the street and down a couple of blocks. I was headed there.”
My hopes rise. “To go back home?”
“No. I’m not going home—not until I’ve finished what I came here to do.”
“Which is what? Die in a crosswalk? Get raped under a pier? Acquire a raging case of fleas from that stray?”
Her jaw juts out. “Where are you taking me anyway?”
“Don’t worry—you can trust me.”
“I know that. I may not be able to see with my eyes, but I have a talent for seeing inside of people.”
I huff a short laugh. If that were true, she’d run screaming the other direction instead of willingly going along with me. “We’re going back to my condo complex. My neighbor Brenna usually has a spare room. You can stay there until you find an apartment not near the S clinic. She might even know of someone who’s looking for a roommate.”
As a dancer, Brenna is acquainted with plenty of starving artists. All of her roommates are Elven, like her, but she probably knows some humans from her work with area musicians and stage productions.
Laney stays quiet until we get into my car. Once inside, she turns to me. “I guess I should thank you... again.”
She’s so miserable about having to be grateful, I almost laugh. A feeling like summer sunshine warms me from the inside out. “You’re welcome. Again. All right, seatbelt on. And hold onto Cupcake—I don’t want him running loose in my car. He’s filthy—and I wasn’t kidding about those fleas.”
She hugs the kitten tighter, and he begins to purr. “We can’t call him Cupcake. He’s a boy.”
“What—you don’t think guys enjoy cupcakes? I love them, especially vanilla—especially with a lot of frosting.”
“What does he look like?”
“Oh, he’s a real beaut. I think Cupcake fits him just right—unless you want to name him Mudpie.”
“Fine—we’ll call him Cupcake. But if he turns out to have gender confusion, don’t blame me.” She holds the kitten up to her cheek and snuggles him. “So, you were right about one thing—I don’t really know where to look for a good place to live. Is your condo in a good neighborhood?”
“You could say that.” I drive toward my place in Malibu, noticing for the first time in a long time the wide streets lined with tall palm trees, the expensive landscaping. Like mine, most of the cars we pass are new and high end. Many of the properties are walled off for privacy from tourists and less fortunate locals. My small complex has a gated entry with a twenty-four hour security guard. I nod to him as we drive through the gate, and I pull into the garage under my condo.
When we step out of the garage, Laney lifts her face to the sky and inhales. “You did bring me to the beach.”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. My condo is on the water. Brenna’s is right next door.”
“Wow.” Laney spins in a circle wearing an expression of joy. “The air feels amazing here. You are so lucky.”
“Uh yeah. I guess so.” I don’t think I’ve ever once noticed how the air “feels” outside my building. It’s owned by the Dark Court, and most of its residents are Elven. I live here because it was available and easy. I’ve lived near the ocean my whole life, so it doesn’t seem all that special to me.
Laney’s comment makes me wonder what the weather is like where she’s from. Maybe if I ask a few questions, she’ll let the location slip and I can arrange speedy transport for her back home.
“So, it’s cold where you live then?”
“Oh no—right now it’s boiling hot. And the air’s so still you can hardly breathe. This sea breeze is incredible. I’ve been to the Gulf Coast before with my family, but the air there is warm, too. The Pacific is different, isn’t it? Is the water cold?”
“I don’t know. I guess so. I never really go in.”
“You live at the beach, and you don’t go in the ocean?” she asks incredulously.
“I’m busy. Come on, I’m going to take your arm and escort you up the walk to Brenna’s door. Let’s hope she’s home.”
Still smiling, Laney allows me to walk her to the door. I ring the bell and then knock, suddenly nervous about what I’m going to say to my neighbor. I know her only casually. Brenna’s a friend and former roommate of Ava’s. She’s always been friendly, and from what Ava told me about her, she’s not overly devoted to the Dark Council. She’s got a live-and-let-live attitude toward the humans, working with them on a regular basis in the jobs she does here and in New York City. Hopefully she won’t mind one small one underfoot for a day or two while I locate some suitable housing for Laney or figure out how to send her home.
The door opens, and Brenna’s eyes pop wide at the sight of me. Like everyone else, she sees what she wants to see when she looks at me. I read attraction in her eyes, but it’s my favorite kind—there’s no intent behind it. I’m like a nice piece of scenery to her—pleasant to look at—but she’s not interested in pursuing anything. One of the reasons I’ve always felt comfortable with her.
“Hello neighbor,” she says. “What’s up?” She slides her glance to Laney, then to the kit
ten, then a questioning one to me.
“Brenna, this is Laney. She’s new to town and looking for a place to rent.” Don’t worry, I assure Brenna mind to mind, I know you don’t want a human roommate. Or another feline one. “I was hoping you’d have a spare bed for a night or two until she finds one.”
“Hi Laney.” Brenna extends a hand toward Laney, who naturally does not see it.
Laney lifts her own hand in a tentative wave. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you. It’s very nice of you to take me in.”
Brenna shoots me a concerned look. “Oh, well... about that. Listen, step inside for a minute and let me get you something to drink. Do you like tea, Laney?”
“Oh yes. Thank you. That would be nice. I am thirsty.”
I hold Laney’s elbow. “There’s one step up.”
“Thanks,” she says, and we walk into the condo together, following Brenna toward the kitchen.
Immediately inside the doorway is a pile of suitcases. I’m starting to get a bad feeling. Brenna busies herself setting out glasses and getting a pitcher of tea from the refrigerator. She fills a bowl with water and puts it on the floor for the kitten, who squirms from Laney’s grasp and goes right to it, drinking thirstily. Afterward, it helps itself to some dry food from a bowl belonging to Brenna’s Persian cat, who’s about five times Cupcake’s size and thankfully the laziest animal I’ve ever seen.
“Where are you from, Laney?” Brenna asks. She directs a silent question at me as well.
She’s blind? Where did you meet her?
Yes. We... ran into each other while I was working this evening.
I’m not sure if Brenna knows what I do for my father, but I think she suspects. I spend most of my nights out at clubs and travel a lot, and I’ve been vague about it when she’s asked directly.
“From a small town... pretty far from here.” Laney smiles. “Call it Nowheresville, U.S.A.”
“What brings you to L.A.? Are you hoping to break into show business?”
“Oh no... I came to volunteer at a clinic. Of course I’ll also need to find some kind of paying job in addition to an apartment. And... I’m looking for someone.”
