Leaves crunch under Riley’s feet. “When you do see him, try to—”
The crack of a gunshot goes off near the house.
* * * *
I’m running through the thick brush, the branches scratching at my face, and I barely feel it against my wet skin. My heart is pumping with a thunderous force through my chest. I slip in the mud, my hands and knees covered in brown smudges.
My pace quickens when I hear a scream from inside the house. It’s muffled, and I can’t tell who it’s coming from. Riley is right behind me, but I don’t waste any time looking back. I fumble with the gate door, and it takes Riley to pull it open. I sprint to the back door and open it so hard it bangs against the doorstop and recoils.
I stand in the doorframe, frozen, panting heavily. Luka is on the living room floor, cradling Ellen in front of him. Margaret hovers around her, patting her arm with dishrags and talking in quick bursts between them.
Riley pushes past me as Luka looks back. His eyes are spilling with the overfill of adrenaline.
“What happened?” Riley says.
Ellen lets out a bellow of pain, and Margaret whispers comforting words.
Luka nods toward the front door, swinging wide open. There’s a bullet hole through it. “Dusthead broke into the house. He pulled a knife on Ellen and threatened to cut her throat. I took a shot at him, and he sliced her as a distraction to get away.”
Riley runs out of the front door and down the driveway as I force myself to move from the doorway.
I kneel next to Ellen, opposite of Margaret, and grab her hand, her blood staining my muddy fingers. Her pale face withers in pain, and sweat dews on her forehead. When Margaret lifts the dishrag from her arm, blood oozes from the long gash from her shoulder to her elbow.
“We’re going to need to stitch this up,” Margaret says.
I nod and Margaret verbally directs me to the hallway bathroom. One huge advantage of being around nurses: an immediate stock of pilfered medical supplies.
Ellen lies silent, closing her eyes as the tears spill. Riley has left. To go where? I have no idea. I whisper calming words to her as I hand Margaret the suture kit.
“Okay, baby,” Margaret says, breaking the seal. “Hold still.” She plunges the needle into her skin, and Ellen cringes in pain, yelling obscenities in the process.
Luka looks to me, the anger flaring in his eyes. Ellen squeezes my hand so hard it hurts, and I welcome the distraction of the pain.
Chapter 24
Looking into the mirror of the bathroom, I hold the bottle of peroxide in one hand and scissors in the other. I squint my eyes, trying to picture myself as a blonde. I place the bottle Ellen gave me on the sink of Justin’s bathroom. I grab a large lock of my long dark hair, say a few parting words, and make both blades of the scissors meet as the hair falls to the floor like a black feather.
I do this over and over until my hair is so short that from the back I could be mistaken for a boy. I leave a few longer strands in the front so that I can still tuck it behind my ears.
“Luka!” I call from the bathroom. “Can you help for a sec?”
He doesn’t respond, but the stomping of footsteps lets me know he’s on his way. He hasn’t spoken one word to me since this afternoon. All I get are nods or shrugs. I’ve taken cold showers warmer than his attitude.
He stands in the doorway, his eyes like saucers taking in my extremely short hair.
“Can you pour half of this over my head?”
I hand him the bottle of peroxide. I’ve only tried this once before, and I’m hoping that this time will work out better. He looks at it questioningly but gives me a shrug of agreement. I bend over the sink and feel the cold liquid slide over my hair and scalp. It beads down my bare neck and face, and I close my eyes and mouth. The peroxide bubbles and fizzes and feels like butterfly kisses on my skin.
“Done.” Luka drops the bottle back down on the vanity and walks out.
I squeeze the excess out of my hair before flipping back over. Ellen suggested leaving it in for at least thirty minutes, and I’m hoping her guess is accurate.
I search the house for Luka, but it’s empty. The back door in the kitchen is open. A shiver runs down my spine as I pass the kitchen table. How quickly things change.
Luka is sitting on an old picnic table, his back toward me, puffs of black smoke emanating from his mouth. I approach him slowly like he’s a wild animal I might frighten off.
“Are you smoking?” I ask, surprised.
He looks over at me from the corner of his eyes as he inhales another puff, letting the smoke bellow near his mouth.
“Seems so.” He exhales, and the smell of the sweet tobacco brings back memories of my father.
When Netty and I were little, we use to sit together with our parents on the front porch on cool summer evenings. Mom would sing sweet songs while Dad would laugh, biting down on the pipe he enjoyed occasionally.
Tobacco is illegal to grow just like all the other cash crops controlled and regulated by the Officials. It is awfully hard to find, but there are a few who have managed to grow and sell it without the Officials knowing. My father sun-cured tobacco at Razor Pointe and sold it in town to make some money.
“Want some?” Luka hands the hand rolled cigarette over to me, and I carefully grab it from him.
I’ve never smoked a cigarette before, and I’m just hoping that my hair doesn’t catch on fire. I take a puff and feel the heavy smoke fill my lungs. It chokes me for a few seconds, and I erupt in a coughing fit.
Luka grabs back the cigarette with a wide smile on his face.
“I’m glad I amuse you,” I say when I can finally talk again.
“That’s why I keep you around.”
“Where did you get that anyway?” I ask.
“Found it in Justin’s room. Didn’t think he would mind.”
“I’m glad you’re talking to me again.”
Luka swipes at his nose and looks away. I stare at him and realize how much I’ve learned about him these last few days.
“Well, you pissed me off.” He says it matter-of-factly. Blunt Luka has made his return. “You disappeared with that…guy…who apparently you’re very friendly with. You didn’t tell me where you were going…” He pauses, trying to level his tone. “When that dusthead broke into the house the only thing I could think of was where you were. Were you safe? Were you hurt? And then I remembered just ten minutes before that you walked off with him doing who knows what.”
I give him a disgusted look. Who knows what?
“We weren’t doing anything…just talking. His brother and I are—were—friends.”
“How come you never mentioned you knew about this guy before?”
“I didn’t. I knew nothing about anything. It just hit me when I saw Riley’s face. Shane is his identical twin brother.” My hair itches like crazy, and it’s starting to burn. “Plus, I thought it would be better to keep my mouth shut. Shane and I were friends once. A long time ago.”
Luka gets up and puts the butt of the cigarette out with his shoe. “A friend? Come on, Hazel. You can do better than that. I saw the look on both of your faces. Anyone with two brain cells can see it. You lied to me.”
“I did not!” I get up from the table and stand face to face with him. My anger is rooting from my gut, and part of me can’t believe what he is saying. Before I can stop myself, the words fall out of my mouth. “If anyone’s hiding anything it’s you, not me!” I point with my finger, emphasizing the words.
Luka furrows his eyebrows, hovering over his bright green eyes. He scratches the beard still covering his jaw and neck. “What the hell are you talking about? I’ve told you all you need to know about me. I told you I was in love—” He stops short.
I cross my arms over my chest, not sure I should continue. It’s too late now. I’ve already opened my big mouth, and I might as well get this over with. “I know about Marissa, Luka.” I say it so softly, thinking the words will hurt less.
Luka rubs the back strands of his brown hair. He bites his lower lip. “Don’t, Hazel, okay? Just please…let it go.”
I stare at him for a few minutes, debating whether I should concede. I see the pain in his eyes, and even though I’m angry as hell with him, the thought of using the memory of his dead fiancée against him is just plain wrong.
“Fine,” I respond curtly.
Luka exhales a sigh of relief. “I think we better head inside.”
“And why is that?” I have given up trying to curb my attitude.
“Because your hair is turning orange.”
* * * *
It took the other half of the bottle of peroxide to fix my hair. Thank goodness it’s a decent shade of amber blonde or else Luka would be calling me carrot head for the rest of my life. Night has fallen, hiding all the ugliness covering Ward One. Grabbing my backpack, I wedge my gun between the small of my back and the waist of my jeans. Luka and I leave for Ellen’s.
Riley opens the door before we have a chance to knock. His face still startles me for a split second. I must remind myself over and over that Riley is not Shane. Same face…two different people.
“Nice makeover.” He steps to the side, letting us both pass.
Ellen is sitting on the couch, the upper half of her arm wrapped in gauze. Margaret is changing her dressings. They exchange affectionate looks. When Margaret’s finished, she gives Ellen a quick kiss.
“How you are feeling?” I ask her. I’m relieved to see the color has returned to her face.
She looks down at her arm and shrugs. “Not too bad.
“Do you need me to do anything for you before we leave?”
“No, but thanks.” She smiles weakly.
“You ready?” Luka stands over me, his gun wedged into the waist of his jeans. Riley is behind him, his own bag strapped to his back; the mark of someone who is always ready to run when necessary.
* * * *
The tattoo parlor smells like a weird mixture of antiseptic and body odor. The lighting is dim, and what sounds like a million buzzing bees fills my ears. Sketch after sketch of tattoo designs cover the walls, and behind the counter leans a young kid who doesn’t look any older than seventeen. Every inch of skin his covered in black and green ink, and a silver ring is pierced through one of his nostrils.
Luka raises his hand to him as a greeting gesture. The boy looks both happy and surprised to see him; their hands meet.
“Hey, Shakes! Justin told me you were back in the wild woods.”
Shakes? With a sheepish grin on his face, Luka says, “Don’t ask.” He introduces us to Junior, Justin’s newest apprentice. Riley checks out the designs on the wall while Luka and I head back to see Justin, who is in the middle of tattooing a large snake on a very large man. Justin looks up briefly, holding the tattoo needle in one hand and a small hand towel in the other.
“Hey, guys,” he says as he returns to what he is doing.
The man sitting in the chair getting tattooed doesn’t flinch a bit. I look on with morbid curiosity as the needle stains his reddened flesh.
Luka is unfazed. “Have you heard anything yet?”
Justin shakes his head, and we decide to hang out in front to see if we get lucky. It’s early, only nine o’clock, and Luka mentioned the shop doesn’t get busy until after ten. The four of us lounge in the chairs Junior grabbed from the back. Riley flips through a book of tattoo designs.
“We should get tattoos while we wait. We’re just sitting here anyways.” Riley looks to me as I curl my legs into my chest.
“What do you think, Hazel?”
I think about it for a while, but before I can respond Luka scoffs. “She would never…” He says it like he’s offering me a challenge.
I get up and grab the book from Riley, glaring at Luka the whole time. I flip through it, aimlessly at first until I start admiring some of the beautiful artwork. I flip the page once more and I see it, a beautiful black and white sketch of a carrier pigeon. Its wings are spread out in mid-flight with a small folded note strapped to one of them.
I smile, thinking of Shane and his favorite nickname for me…Pigeon.
“How about this one?” I hand the book back to Riley.
“A bird?”
I nod, keeping the explanation to myself.
Riley laughs. “Seriously?”
I walk over to Luka who is leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, head against the wall. The gun in his waistband protrudes out suggestively toward me.
“How ‘bout it Shakes?” I playfully kick one of his boots.
He looks from under his eyelids.
“Seriously?”
“Now or never.”
Luka retrieves his tattoo kit from the back of the shop. I plop in the other chair opposite the big fat man, who looks over to me and smiles mischievously. I smile back timidly as Luka sets up. I watch as he carefully prepares everything.
Riley shakes his head, but his curiosity compels him to get a better view.
“Will it be painful?” I ask, trying to sound more confident than I actually am.
Luka grabs my arm and starts to draw a replica of the pigeon free hand on my forearm. It seems effortless for him, and the absorbed look on his face is sexy as hell. He smiles wickedly and looks me dead in the eye. My heart drops to my stomach. What have I gotten myself into?
“Sometimes the most painful experiences can have beautiful endings,” he says.
I close my eyes as the buzzing of the needle tingles my skin, and I feel the sharp prick of pain.
Chapter 25
Luka cleans the excess ink off my forearm. I kept my eyes closed the whole time except for the few minutes when the fat guy gave me props before he left. I chuckled to myself as Luka made some smart-ass comment about me running off and joining the Rusers.
I watched him momentarily, as he carefully filled in the black lines. I don’t think I had ever seen him more comfortable and at ease than at that moment. It was like I caught a glimpse of carefree Luka, the version of himself before we got involved in this whole mess.
“Finished.”
I finally open my eyes slowly. I’m shocked at the result.
“Oh my God,” I say, staring at the masterpiece on my forearm. I blink my eyes a few times bringing them back into focus, seeing it covers a good area of skin. “Thanks, Shakes.”
He winks at me, and when his dimples make an appearance I melt into the chair. I get up slowly, but it still doesn’t prevent me from getting dizzy. I stumble right into Luka, who catches me with one hand.
“Easy now.” He plants a kiss on my lips, and my cheeks flush with heat at his obvious attempt to stake his claim on me.
Riley comes stomping over. “You look like you can use some air.”
Oh no. I thought I had dodged a bullet when Riley had answered the door instead of Shane. Is he doing his brother some favor?
He tries to grab my arm, but I yank it away. “I’m fine, thank you.”
My forearm is throbbing. I’m dizzy and I need some space from Luka and Riley’s pissing contest. Riley mumbles something under his breath and walks out the front door. Nobody says anything to stop him, not even me.
I wander around the small shop, admiring the eclectic array of odds and ends Justin has collected from customers. I make my way down the hall and see a framed photo hanging on the wall. It’s of Luka and Justin with two other people I don’t recognize. One of them is a girl, pretty with long dark hair and blue eyes. She’s standing next to Luka, her arm around his waist…Marissa, I assume. There’s something off about Justin’s face. It seems softer, unlike the hardened visage I know. I glance over at Luka, who is consumed in conversation with a customer.
I force myself to walk away from the photo and continue down the hall. I stop short when I see Justin through the half-drawn curtain of the back room. He’s sitting alone, preparing some kind of instrument. After a few minutes, I see him pull out a small plastic bag filled with
a black substance from his pocket and plop it on the table. My attempt to go unnoticed is thwarted when Justin spots me out of the corner of his eye.
“How long are you going to stand there and stare?” he asks. He’s not looking at me and continues to screw and unscrew a series of parts to an awfully long tattoo gun.
The first thing I see when I enter the room is the strange chair propped in the middle. It’s like the one I sat in while Luka tattooed me, but just a tad different. Attached to the headrest is a metal contraption that looks like some kind of cage for your head.
“What the hell is this thing?” I nod in the chair’s direction. The look of it scares me, reminding me of the whammy chair from the Antioch.
“That,” says Justin, “is for special tattoos.”
“What do you mean special?”
“Look at my eyes. What color do you see?” He widens his eyes, and I lean in closer to get a better look in the dim light.
“They’re black.” This is the first time I notice how dark his eyes really are, like two lumps of coal…a feature that adds to his mysterious nature.
“Know why?”
I hesitate, wondering if this conversation is supposed to make any sense. “Because that’s how you were born?”
Justin snickers. “No. Because that’s what color I had them tattooed. They used to be blue.”
I look at him for a few seconds, trying to determine whether or not he is serious. Then again, it does explain why he looked strange to me in the picture.
Justin stops what he’s doing and looks up. “What?”
“You can do that?”
He nods, smiling at my amazement.
“Doesn’t it hurt?”
He picks up the packet of black powder off the table. “Not after a hit of this.”
He shakes the packet gently in the air. It takes me a few seconds to realize it’s Black Dust. I’ve never actually seen it before, and I grab the packet from his hands and mush the powder through the bag with my fingers.
Changing the color of my eyes would make it even harder for the Officials to recognize me, and it may just give me the added help I need to get into the Command Center.
The Unforgiven (The Propagation Project Book 1) Page 11