by Kat Quinn
“Well then, with that settled, it seems there are some things I need to discuss. Pardon me as I take my leave, feel free to collect yourself back here as long as you require.”
As I slip out of the swinging door and head towards the back office, motioning for Zeke and Kieran to follow, Emmaline’s mention of shadows triggers a memory from this morning. On the conspiracy boards, Whisper mentioned people disappearing, then reappearing as empty versions of themselves. They even claimed this was all linked to the society of shadows controlling a criminal underground, which would have seemed batty on any other day to any other person.
Pornstache was empty, according to Emmaline, though he felt constricted to me. And there was darkness, undeniable, all-consuming darkness.
I pull out my phone and shoot a quick message, briefly explaining the encounter and airing my suspicions; despite this potential shadow not looking like David, the one we’ve interacted with before. If I’m right about this Whisper also being right, they may have valuable information we can use to stay one step ahead of the game after all.
Almost instantly, I receive a reply. “They’re everywhere, trust no one. Not even me. But I’m following a lead. Will let you know.”
13. Zeke
With Monty behind the wheel, the drive is quiet. Lin usually flips through stations on the radio, but he seems more interested in his phone than music. Connor is plastered to Dizzy’s side in the backseat, fingertips outlining images on her skin. Kieran’s eyes are open wide, darting everywhere all at once. Even I know the atmosphere is less than easy.
Lin is worried about Dizzy. Kieran is worried about Dizzy. The only person not worried about Dizzy, is Dizzy herself. Knowing the full extent of her thorough self-confidence towards keeping safe should bolster my own in her, but it doesn’t. When we return home, I will finish crafting my next piece for her. Maybe design some tattoos.
Oooh! Chocolate shop! What was the name of that guy in that one movie? The one where he and that lady were all lovey-lovey and they made chocolate together but maybe one of them died but came back as a ghost and haunted the chocolate shop by moving around pennies? Or is that two movies together? And what are those chocolate pennies called that you spin a top for? Wonder if anyone’s ever taken them as real money. You can pay me in chocolate money any day, I’d totally buy it! Or sell it? Which one would I be doing if I’m taking chocolate for… probably more chocolate? But wait, where do I get the selling chocolate start up capital from... Count Chocobank?
Her thoughts do nothing to reassure me her focus is strong enough to keep vigilant until we know we’re certain of our safety. Though having such insight means I know she doesn’t care if we’re safe or not, she’d prefer to just enjoy as much life as she can, as long as she can. One moment with Dizzy seems crammed at least twice as dense with experience and experimentation as anyone else’s.
But boy do I like me some dark chocolate. Would lick me up a nice line of chocolate sauce straight from the chocolate spout it was pourin’ on out. … Not that… uh… Caramel? Isn’t good, too. Or vanilla. Or… uh… Gingerbread? I’m not thinking about dicks, if that’s what you’re thinking I’m thinking, Zeke. I’m appreciating desserts, which we should all do every now and then because they’re a gift we’ve been given from the lords of tasty and I plan to earn as many prezzies as possible.
“I enjoy your caramel, Dizzy.” I reply aloud. “It pairs well with my gingerbread. And the other options.”
Pulling her knees up, Dizzy grabs a thick sheet of flowing purple curls and hides behind them with a squeal. “I already went to one bakery today,” she mumbles. “All full up on tasty treats for now!”
“Shhh!” Kieran snaps his fingers while shushing us harshly. “Lin, is that them? Behind us. Tan car. After the green van.”
Everyone stills. Lin turns in his seat up front to peer out the back window. His fingers move in a series of pinches and slides, almost as though zooming in on a phone screen. “Oh, dear. Well, it looks like the protection for Emmaline may have been misplaced. Seems we’ve got a fan club on our hands, gentlemen. May need to dodge the paparazzi before they get a good shot at us.” He places his phone back into its pocket and withdraws a thin metal blade in its stead.
“Why would somebody want pics of us?” Dizzy asks, obviously uninformed of the visitors we had earlier. An oversight, I presume.
“They don’t,” I reply, unbuckling my seatbelt and climbing into the back with her and Connor. Between my jewelry and tattoos, I have the largest arsenal of weaponry and experience, while they both have the least of each.
“Well then, why would the paparazzi be hot on our trail if we’re not gonna make them a big payday at the tabloids?” While she asks the question, Aria slides from Dizzy’s hood and lands in the woman’s lap, sitting at attention. “Don’t remember becoming a celebrity since the last time, but that was totally a case of mistaken identity at the most random moment.”
“Not now, Fireball! Hush.” Kieran barks out. She frowns at him, mouth open to speak but doesn’t get the chance. Kieran jabs a decisive finger towards our driver, “Monty, slow and steady. Two lights ahead, take the left at the last possible second. No turn signal.” He angles to face the three of us in the backseat, “Connor, could you hold a duplicate of us to distract them until we get to safety, or should Zeke blast the road apart?” I pull one of the studs from the newer piercings on my ear, a minuscule explosive only able to be activated by my personal magical signature. I am ready if he is not.
Connor’s eyes widen for a moment as he takes in the change in climate, but he sits up straight and flexes his hands into fists, “I could try. It would be better than endangering everyone else.” He rolls his narrow shoulders, “How far are we going, and how far does the dupe need to go?”
“As far as it takes,” Kieran snarls, upper lip twitching. He’s out of his seat, crouched in the center of the SUV, eyes trained unwaveringly on the tan car he’s tracking.
“What the hell is going on right now?!” Dizzy demands. “Why are you–“
“Shut up! Stay low, keep alert, and run if I say so. This is not the time to chat! DO AS YOU’RE TOLD FOR ONCE IN YOUR GODDAMNED LIFE AND CUT THE FUCKING QUESTIONS.” Kieran shouts at her.
“The FUCK you just say to me you son of a bitch?!” Are momma wolf shifters still bitches, she thinks, because Kieran sure is fuckin’ acting like one right now regardless. “Nuh-uh, not fuckin’ okay, Kieran. You’ve been downgraded from Beefcake to Bitchcake. Now you want to try that again, Bitchcake?”
Kieran growls, but before he’s able to reply, Lin audibly slaps him in the back of the head. “Down, boy. You’re being unreasonable.” He focuses his gaze on Dizzy, “Love, we had some visitors of the potentially nefarious variety at the shop while you were resting, and it appears that they’d like to experience an extended amount of our hospitality.” Lin stretches his neck to peer around the fuming wolf shifter and get a better view of our tail, “By which I mean it’s entirely possible that they mean us harm, Love.”
Connor cocks his head to the side, “Um, don’t you think that would have been a good thing to tell us about?”
“Yeah, kind of wish I’d known about it, too,” Monty says while raising a hand and peering into the rearview mirror.
“Ah, yes, well… surprise!” Lin says, splaying the fingers on one hand out and wiggling them slightly. “We’ll do better next time, now won’t we?”
“Won’t be a next time if I rip their throats out now,” Kieran growls under his breath. Louder, now, he rejoins the conversation, “Connor, when Monty turns left, show us turning right. Take them on a goose chase as far as you can, you understand? As far as you can.”
Connor nods decisively. Monty turns left across traffic without warning, barely missing clipping at least one car in the process. Multiple breaths are taken in and held. One of Connor’s eyes twitches slightly, the sounds around us seeming to dampen. A handful of seconds tick by over what feels like hours. I gather my ener
gy, ready to pulse it into the bomb if needed. Kieran continues to glare unwaveringly at the tan car trailing us. A duplicate of our SUV calmly turns in the opposite direction, making a right at the light. The tan car continues straight, speed not shifting.
A billowing of breaths is released as the suspicion is removed and tension no longer pulled taut.
“They didn’t follow,” Kieran reports. The mood further relaxes a notch.
“You’re all a bunch of asshats, you know that, right?” Dizzy says, an image of the five of us lined up as idiotic cartoons with our tongues sticking out, jiggly asses strapped to our heads, makes its way into my mind. Kieran’s likeness has been especially dumbed down, bumbling on stiff, pudgy limbs in a clumsy dance. Not now, brain. Big serious angry time, Dizzy. Don’t distract me with jiggle bums to let them off the hook. The image now includes fish hooks buried deep inside one ass cheek of each of our imagined headwear, which is promptly snipped off by a giant pair of scissors.
A smile jerks up the corners of my lips, “Yes. We are asshats.” I respond. “But you will let us off the hook.” Dizzy glares in my direction, though I know I’m not the true target of her ire. I safely return the stud in my hand to its hole in my ear while I contemplate what increased measures should probably be taken. “We will not let this happen again.”
“You’re goddamned right you won’t,” she huffs, crossing her arms and scowling fiercely. Stupid boys. Stupid dumbass boys. Blah blah Dizzy, you have to fight but you can’t fight but we won’t tell you when you should be ready to fight, blah blah. Didn’t have these problems when I just ran from them, but noooooooooo, that’s not how we do things now. Now we do them by yelling at each other and throwing each other around and embarrassing me by pointing out how terrible I am at this but not saying anything about the creepers that happened to stop by the damned shop because fighting with each other is way better than fighting for each other. Dingleberries. Shart weasels. Ass nuggets.
Unlike Dizzy’s internal ranting, the rest of the drive home is calm and uneventful despite our brief detour.
14. Monty
“Workout gear. Everyone. Five minutes or I will drag your asses to the backyard even if they’re bare,” Kieran demands as he leaps from the SUV and storms towards the house.
A series of groans and mutterings follow as we filter inside, breaking off towards our various rooms. Even though she spends the least amount of time in my room, what clothes we’ve cobbled together for Dizzy largely live in my master closet. Not just the things we’ve bought, but the ones she’s sort of stolen from each of us. Her footsteps as I trail behind are forceful and furious. A part of me fears for the health of our stairs.
In her rage, she slams the door to my own bedroom right in my face, the only thing saving me from a bloody nose the fact that Colonel Stubbs took that exact moment to weave in front of my feet. From inside the room, incoherent and guttural screeches pound against the door frame, blasting into the hallway like a barely-dampened sonic boom.
Possibly against my better judgement, I tap my knuckles lightly on the wooden barrier, bracing to be met by a screeching banshee on the attack rather than the woman who ran from me as I was dragged behind her just a few weeks ago.
The door is yanked open, and I’m greeted with the briefest flash of a vicious scowl. “FUCK OFF,” Dizzy yells as she slams the door in my face again within the span of barely an instant.
I nod. Well okay then, looks like it’s fuck off o’clock.
The door opens less wildly this time, “Sorry, don’t fuck off. It’s your room. I’ll fuck off, just let me get these stupid ass leggings on my stupid ass useless un-kicking kickers while we all bow down to the mighty princess Bitchcake’s demands, AGAIN. Gotta listen for once in my life, haven’t you heard?! Even though the ONE time any of this shit might have been worth even half a damn, nobody fuckin’ lets me in on the secret!” Her golden eyes are molten with anger as she shoots off another fiery glare into space. Apparently with quite a bit of difficulty, her features twitch and become less terrifying as she stiffly steps backwards and welcomes me in. “Right. In. Come on. I’ll just be over here, pissed as shit and trying to remember why I decided to put up with all this shitty training and his shitty attitude in these shitty fucking leggings. Seriously. If I wanted a camel toe I would just steal a camel again, their toes really aren’t the best part anyway.”
I slink in while her tangent distracts the rage from boiling over, keeping track of her with discreet glances as I head towards my dresser. She’s mostly stomping and pacing while yanking at a pair of black leggings doing an impressive set of splits in her hands. “If it helps, nobody told me about those two suspicious characters, either.”
The top of Dizzy’s lip twitches on one side, crinkling her nose in a half-snarl as one eye nearly closes. Her head snaps to me, tone still harsh as she responds. “Yes. That does help. Even though it’s very unhelpful and I’m mad as hell about it for both of us now. All this crap he talks about staying safe and protecting each other and blah blah and WE’RE LEFT OUT OF THE LOOP?!?” She crumples up the leggings and throws them onto the bed in a heap, narrowly missing a lazing Aria, then strips out of her jacket and shirt as they’re hurled onto the pile.
Out of respect for Dizzy’s modesty, I turn my back slightly to give any privacy she may want, hurrying to rustle for a pair of gym shorts buried in my drawers. “And what’s the point anyway?! Huh?! I get that if you’re not going to run you have to stay and fight but I’m tired of spending every morning and every evening getting thrown down on my ass, and not even in a fun way! And don’t even get me started on how fucked up it is that they probably didn’t tell us because they didn’t want to upset us or wanted to protect us or any of those other bullshit reasons that always mean somebody gets hurt anyway! Either act like I can take care of myself and tell me what’s going on, or accept that I’m a shitty ass fighter and need to have a bubble suit built around me while I’m surrounded constantly by bodyguards and cotton candy! And if you think the second option’s the right one then I’d punch you square in the face if I was tall enough to!”
The door slams again and Dizzy’s crazed rantings begin to descend down the stairs, leaving me behind without any notice. I peer over my shoulder to cock an eyebrow at Aria. “She gonna be okay?” The little creature gives what could be considered a shrug, which I take to mean “I honestly don’t know” rather than “And wouldn’t you like to know?”
As fast as possible, I peel off today’s polo shirt, one patterned with minuscule jack-o-lanterns, and swish it into the hamper. Footsteps pound loudly as I continue to change, yanking down my cargo pants and stepping from their leg holes. While I’m reaching for the selected pair of workout shorts, the door flings open, causing me to freeze in place.
“Sorry if I was rude to you,” Dizzy huffs in her worked-up state, then her eyes trace over my state of undress. “And I’m sorry if I was rude again just now by barging in and saying sorry without checking to see if you had any pants on because that’s what normal humans do. Okay. I’m sorry. Oops. Sorry.” This time, she backs away from the door and closes it only slightly forcefully, rather than with gusto. Her footfalls aren’t quite as thunderous this time, but they’d still earn a place on the Richter scale.
Stunned, unsure of how to process basically any of what’s just happened in this room, I elect to save myself the trouble of trying to fully understand and just pretend this is completely normal. With all the kids that came through my parents’ house, I’ve seen a mighty tantrum or two. Even been caught with my pants down, just never had a combination quite like this one before.
“Yeah, I’ve let this go on long enough. Something’s gotta give,” I say out loud.
The cool, synthetic fabric feels nice as I slide it up my slightly-heated skin, elastic waistband snappin in place decisively. It’s a shame I got changed for nothing, and even worse that Connor won’t get to push the limits of his control with me, but it’s time for an intervention o
f some sort.
“C’mon, Aria, let’s work that girl of yours back off the ledge.” The small black creature stretches in a decidedly feline manner before lunging off the bed and spreading her wings, sailing to my bare arm. Cute animals are about the dirtiest trick in my arsenal and absolutely called for in this fight for peace amongst our family.
15. Monty
“What’s the fucking point of any of this, then?!?!” Dizzy screams, jabbing a finger into Kieran’s bare chest while on tip-toes, getting as close to in his face as possible. “You can’t keep secrets like that and you can’t flip out at me when I want to know what’s going on! If you’re so obsessed with keeping us all prepared, THEN KEEP US ALL PREPARED!”
“It was more important to act than to talk! I’m not letting any of us die because we pause to get on the same page!” Kieran roars back, spittle flying from his mouth and practically showering Dizzy’s face.
“AT LEAST YOU COULD HAVE SAID WHAT BOOK WE WERE ALL READING! DON’T NEED TO BE ON THE SAME PAGE! IT TAKES TWO SECONDS TO SAY ‘we’re being followed by some guys who were acting suspicious at the shop, everybody get ready.’ AND THEN I WOULDN’T BE HALF AS PISSED AS I AM RIGHT NOW.” Dizzy slaps her palm against Kieran’s chest firmly, but somehow her hand slips against his skin, causing her to stumble forward, tripping over her own feet and crashing to the ground. She screams, guttural and ragged, ripping up fistfuls of grass in frustration, tears starting to form at the corner of her eyes.
All of this happens as I’m still making my way to the training space we’ve cleared out in the back yard. Before an explosion of any kind can take place, I make my move.
“Give her a hand, why don’t you?” Plucking Aria off my shoulder, I hold her out towards the fallen woman, “I’ll take care of the wolf.” She nods her small, fox-like face just slightly and leaps towards Dizzy without complaint.
