Prophecy of Blood

by John R. Monteith

“Yeah, but last time you said that, you said it was an insult.”

  “You inhale food.”

  “Pardon me, Miss Foodie.”

  “I’m not a foodie!”

  He glared at her and smirked.

  “Okay, I’m a foodie.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s kind of cute.”

  She wondered if that was his attempt at flirting and found it inappropriate on several levels. “I know I’m cute. I’ve always been cute, but cute’s not what I’m going for. I was hoping we could talk about something more serious.”

  “I’m always serious. That’s my problem. I need to lighten up, or at least so sayeth the empath.”

  She was glad he saw his character flaw, but she needed to capitalize on it. “That’s true, but sometimes it’s a strength.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, focus and determination come in handy in your line of work. Like now. I need your help with something.”

  Food always seemed to find its way to his face. He mumbled his comment through a mouthful of oatmeal. “Sure. Go ahead.”

  “This idea I had of becoming bait, I’m not so sure I like it.”

  He swallowed his grains. “That’s understandable. It’s scary.”

  “It’s not just the danger. It’s that everyone’s depending on me. That’s a lot of pressure.”

  “I’ll have your back. We’re a team.”

  “Are you absolutely sure it’s the right thing, though?”

  The question made him lower his spoon. “I’ve racked my brain trying to figure this out, and I can’t think of anything better. We don’t have geographic rules around this wraith. We don’t have anything to go on other than your insights.”

  She realized her breakfast remained untouched and nibbled on her muffin. After washing the bite down with coffee, she responded. “Okay. I just want to make sure we’re all taking it seriously enough. I could get killed, or worse. And so could anyone who’s trying to help me.”

  “I know. I’ve been working out a plan.”

  His confidence reassured her. “That’s great. Were you planning on sharing any of it soon?”

  “I wanted to run it by Father first, but I like what I’ve got.”

  She offered a smile to melt his shyness. “Could you share some of it with me?”

  He sighed. “I’m still not sure if you should bring your dagger or not.”

  She’d considered it impossible, but the concept excited her. “You think I could get away with it?”

  He nodded. “Maybe. It’s practically invisible when you’re touching it, and you could hide it against your inner thigh.”

  She swallowed as she realized she may wind up naked in front of leering sleazes. “That’s great if they’re only looking.”

  “Yeah. That’s what scares me. If they start touching, and they feel your dagger, you’ll be in trouble.”

  In her dream, the Maiden of Beit She’an had been correct. Dianne had been ignoring the weight of the risk she faced. “If they start touching, I’ll already be in trouble.”

  “And if I don’t know where you are at the time, you’ll be on your own. I don’t like it.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Do you think they’d kill me?”

  Frowning, the hunter consoled her. “I don’t think so, and this is why I’m tending to have you take it with you. The bottom line for everyone you’ll be dealing with is that they’ll always see your commercial value. You’ll be an object worth money, and to scar you would be to lower your value. To kill you would be throwing away a significant investment.”

  She felt objectified. “You sure know how to woo a girl.”

  “That’s not my job. My job is to keep you safe.”

  Shaking her head, she suffered a sinking feeling in her stomach that revealed how right the Maiden of Beit She’an had been. “No, it’s not. I’m on the team now. I’m not the object of the mission. I’m… what’s the term?”

  Unable to face her while answering, he looked at his oatmeal. “Expendable.”

  “I’m expendable.” The ghost’s advice of being ready to surrender herself hit hard.

  He looked her in the eye. “I know I’ll find a way to do my duty, but I will never personally consider you expendable.”

  CHAPTER 24

  That evening, Liam knocked on Dianne’s hotel room door, and it clicked open.

  She appeared relaxed for a slow night, wearing gray sweatpants and a bright green tee shirt. She’d removed her makeup, and her long lashes fluttered as she smiled. “I was just on my way down to read in the lobby.”

  Her looking so attractive naturally left him helpless to estimate how much time she invested each day in the flawless appearance that made his heart pound. “Before you head down there, I wanted to give you something.” He extended a tube of Dermabond.

  Reading its label while accepting it, she cringed. “What’s this?”

  “It’s skin glue. You’re going to use it to attach your dagger to… well… I haven’t exactly figured that out yet, but I think your inner upper thigh would be appropriate.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  He shook his head.

  Her eyes opened wide. “You’re not kidding.”

  “You’ve got a better idea?”

  “I was thinking maybe I could wear a couple of garter belts.”

  While envisioning a mentally sanitized version her groin area, he tried to avoid looking at it. “That would attract attention.”

  “So, you basically want me to cement my dagger to my bare leg, near my crotch, and then what? Rip off a foot of skin in a highly sensitive area when I need my knife?”

  Reaching for his nape, he fumbled for an explanation. “It wears off over time, a couple weeks for skin, but I’d guess only a day or two for the bronze, depending how much we use.”

  “We?” She pointed to her private region. “You think you’re going to be all up in here slathering sticky goop?”

  He wanted to shrink to the size of an ant and run away. “No. Maybe Nana can help you, if you need help.”

  “And you’re only guessing at how long it will hold?”

  “Um, yeah. I couldn’t find any references online for its adhesiveness to bronze, enchanted or otherwise.”

  She glared. “Not funny. Have you ever had hair waxed off your upper lip?”

  “No! Why would I?”

  “Exactly. You haven’t. It hurts like a beast. Now take that and multiply it ten times over for ripping off my own flesh.”

  “You’ll probably have access to water to help dissolve the glue.”

  “Probably? You mean I may not have water at all? What do they do to these poor women?”

  His research suggested unpredictable treatment. For the criminals to profit, their trafficked victims needed to appear healthy, but the players in this underground economy sometimes acted before thinking. “I’m sure you will. You’ll need restroom access. I can’t see them taking you out of the city or asking you to relieve yourself on the sidewalk.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m not sure how long it’ll take, but the glue will let go of the dagger before it lets go of your skin.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you’ll tear the dagger from the glue before you’d tear your skin, whether it’s by applying water over time or by brute force all at once.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “You’re sure about that, especially the brute force part?”

  He realized he needed to run an experiment. “Yeah, I’m sure. Well, am I a hundred percent, sure? Not exactly. So, I’ll test it on myself. I’ll need that tube of Dermabond back.”

  During a roundtrip to the lobby, he borrowed a roll of duct tape from the office and rushed back to his room.

  Inhaling deeply, he walked to the bathroom, dropped his jeans, and turned on the shower. He grabbed his razor and shaving cream from the sink and visualized a section of skin on his thigh for removing hair. After running his knuckles u
nder the stream to verify the warmth, he stepped into the tub and ran water down his leg.

  The razor against his groin created a weird sensation, and he reminded himself that competitive swimmers found the task trivial. But he still cringed as he cut straight lines of flesh between his curly leg hairs. Once finished, he shut off the water, stepped from the tub, and dried his leg.

  Staying in his underwear, he carried the duct tape and tube of glue to his nightstand. He opened a drawer and removed his weapons case. Closing his eyes, he lifted the lid, grabbed the dagger, and pointed the blade in the direction of the latest tribute.

  He opened his eyes, and the weapon adjusted its aim. Keeping it level, he sidestepped to the bed and reclined. Straining his nearer arm, he reached for the glue and the tape. Unsure what would happen, he squeezed a line of Dermabond over his tender, shaven skin and then mashed the dagger against it.

  With his teeth and his free hand, he worked lengths of tape crosswise over the weapon to hold it while the glue cured. As he realized he’d forgotten to remove the hairs under the flat adhesive, he trusted that Dianne would avoid the same mistake.

  He faced a curious decision between closing his eyes or hopping across the floor to the dresser to find a pair of shorts. Wishing he’d thought ahead to stage his pants, he pushed himself up on one leg and kept his daggered limb pointed the way the weapon chose. After modest acrobatics, he reached his drawer of folded clothes.

  Again, he closed his eyes, allowing his leg to fall, and then he slid into his shorts. He tapped the cloth to assure it covered the knife, and then he looked in the mirror. The dagger was a lump under his shorts, but since it was concealed from his view, he was free to move.

  His awkward first step towards the door unbalanced his gait, and he likened himself to a bow-legged cowboy. He continued his strange movement to the elevator and into the lobby where he saw Dianne sitting on an armchair.

  She looked up from her paperback. “You’re walking funny.”

  Continuing towards her, he passed an elderly European man who was checking in, and he let Dianne draw her own conclusion.

  Focusing towards his pants, she examined his handiwork. “Let me see what you’ve done.”

  He stopped short of her reach. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Your cast still stands out more, but I wouldn’t leave the hotel looking like that.”

  The dull throb in his upper arm had become a minor bother, but he noticed the deep discomfort and surface itching as he pointed his palm towards his leg. “You mean it’s noticeable?”

  “Maybe not to a caveman or a hunter that eats like one, but to the rest of the world it is.”

  “I’m just proving out the concept.”

  Lowering her book to a round wooden table next to her seat, she stood. “From this perspective it’s not as bad, but it’s still obvious that there’s something there.”

  He realized he’d perhaps rushed his experiment. “Maybe I should’ve asked you what you’re planning to wear, if you even know.”

  She shot sideways glances to assure their privacy. Beyond earshot, the elderly man and the clerk at the registration desk were the only bystanders. “I saw them in skirts and blouses, which is what you’d expect.”

  Doubting if the crime had taken place yet, he considered it a future occurrence. “They’ll probably be lied to when they’re taken, and they’ll be dressed nicely. In my research, one way to trick the women is to promise them good jobs in countries with strong economies, and then they head off thinking they’re going to be able to send money back home. But then… you can imagine the rest.”

  In the face of pending danger, she stood straight. “This could work. I’ll be wearing a skirt, and it should hide everything.”

  “What do you mean by everything?”

  “I was hoping maybe to take my amulet with me.”

  The pendant hanging around her neck had concealed her identity as the Michigan wraith’s targeted sacrifice, but Liam doubted the Istanbul wraith sought her as the source of his next fifty years of life. “Do you think you really need it?”

  She shrugged. “Probably not, but it couldn’t hurt, right?”

  “If it’s hidden well enough, no. Were you thinking to somehow glue it to your dagger?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know. I just wanted it.”

  “I’m not sure you’d benefit from it. To this wraith, you’re hopefully nothing but a threat he doesn’t see coming.”

  Her mood changed as she reached to the desk and lifted her book. Her voice was gentle, and she seemed serene. “But you know, it’s fine to leave it behind. My dagger should be enough. I love my dagger. My dagger will protect me.”

  After staring at her, he realized she used her knife as a placeholder in her paperback. “You shouldn’t have that out in the open.”

  Her voice was singsong. “Why not?”

  The rules of her dagger escaped him and seemed to operate outside what he considered common sense “Oh, never mind. Your dagger is a great line of defense, but we should also consider other defenses.”

  Her mini-trance ended, and she looked at him. “You can track me with a GPS chip or something, right?”

  Having studied the possibility after learning of Dianne’s desire to become bait, the young hunter had found unfortunate results. Satellite tracking systems were oversized for implanting under the skin, and hiding a wearable system on her body was impossible. “Not really. That’s a common myth. GPS trackers are still too big.”

  She frowned and sat in silence.

  Careful to avoid agitating his dagger, he stepped to the chair on the other side of the small round table. Sitting, he studied her and found her distant. “If you need help, your connection to Josh will be solid like last time. That’s a key line of defense.”

  The comment broke her spell. “Last time you had no idea where I was until the last second.”

  “You were also kidnapped long before we knew you. This time, we’ll be actively following you.”

  “You could lose me.”

  He suspected that he’d rather die. “I won’t. But if it happens, you’ll still have your connection to Josh.”

  “I guess.”

  At the risk of projecting arrogance, he attempted to lift her spirits. “Your dagger and your abilities give you powers I hardly understand, but I know the rest of this equation. I know how to track people, and I know how to protect people. That’s what I was raised to do. You know I’ll do what I have to for you, right?”

  She nodded.

  “My father will, too.”

  Lost in her own concerns, she remained distant.

  Liam grabbed the armrests and pushed himself up.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I thought you wanted to be alone.”

  “Just because I’m not talking doesn’t mean that.”

  He sat.

  “Can’t you just sit here and be quiet?”

  It sounded improbable. “I’ll give it a shot.” Careful where he wiggled the glued dagger’s blade, he fumbled in his pocket for his phone for something, anything, to read. Lifting the device, he thumbed through random headlines.

  “I don’t think you’d ever be a good empath. You’re too nervous.”

  He chuckled–nervously. “At least God divvied out our roles in life correctly.”

  “Quiet. Just chill.”

  Thumbing through articles on anything he could find kept his mind occupied while sitting with her in silence.

  During an hour, a young couple, dressed in Italian sportswear that Liam considered gaudy, checked in at the registration desk and provided the only distraction to his solitude next to Dianne.

  Without warning, she rose to her feet. “Okay, I’m going to bed.”

  Trying to be a gentleman, he stood. “Um, yeah. Can I escort you to your room?”

  “No, thanks. I’m good.”

  He found her behavior odd. Either that, or he realized he had a long road ahead to get to know her�
�a road he yearned to have open to him.

  Giving her time to outpace him upstairs, he waited and then took his measured strides towards the elevator. After reaching his room, he closed the door, looked away from his leg, and tore off the duct tape. As hair follicles escaped his skin, he muffled his grunts.

  “Bloody hell.”

  Keeping his shorts over the knife, he slapped, poked, and prodded the metal through the cloth to verify its adhesion. It felt solid.

  Intending to test it overnight while sleeping, he hoped he wouldn’t cut himself by his tossing in bed. He also made a mental note to beware where he looked when waking during the middle of the night, just to be sure he didn’t spur the dagger into rapid reorientation across any of his valuable body parts.

  CHAPTER 25

  The next morning at breakfast, Dianne found the young hunter cramming a heap of eggs balanced on a piece of toast into his mouth.

  “Can I join you?”

  Chewing, he mumbled and nodded.

  She placed her phone on the table. “How’s the glue situation?”

  With glazed eyes, he looked at her and managed a grunt between chews. “Huh?”

  She wondered how he could eat with reckless abandon with a day and a half until they sent her undercover in a human trafficking ring. “That thing you have glued to your leg.”

  He swallowed. “Oh, yeah. I’m going to rip it off for you when we get upstairs.”

  “For me?”

  “I want you to see it so that you have confidence when the time comes.”

  “How’d it work for you overnight?”

  He sprinkled salt over his ad hoc egg sandwich. “It poked me a couple times, but it stayed put. I think it’ll work out fine for you.”

  “If it comes off.”

  “It will. We’ll check after breakfast.”

  “Sure. After breakfast.”

  Her stomach resisting the apple, raisins, and yogurt she’d forced herself to eat, Dianne rode the elevator with Liam. She thought she was still hungry, but her nerves were already edgy for tomorrow’s task. “Does that thing pinch or chafe at all?”

  “A little. You get used to it.”

  As she followed him through the sliding door, down the hallway, and into his room, she figured he could probably get used to anything.