“Whoa,” Lizzie whispered. “That will have caught attention.”
I nodded. “Sorry. I wish we could have tested it.”
“When will the air be safe for us to breathe?”
“In a couple of minutes. We can’t wait that long.” I pulled out two gas masks from my backpack, handing one to her.
She put it on, then we raced back to the storage unit.
28
The door had been destroyed near the bombs, the metal curling back. The fifth bomb hadn’t gone off.
I glowered. “Be careful,” I said, my voice distorted by the gas mask. “It could go off at any moment.”
Lizzie scoffed. “I’m a Fire Impeder, Abel. It’s my job to keep bombs from going off.”
“Yeah, but while you’re killing hounds?”
She paused, seeing my point.
We stepped into the huge storage unit. Bodies lay all over the place. Lizzie hesitated again, staring at them. And then she rolled up her sleeves, figuratively speaking, and got to work.
She got down on the ground, next to the bodies, and started killing them one at a time. I pulled the dead ones away from her when she finished, piling them near the door to the unit, noticing as I did so that she was slowing down. Did the amulet require charging? Alexander really hadn’t prepared us with how to use the thing. This was a waste of our time—who knew how long it would take before someone showed up. Those blasts had been big enough to catch several blocks’ worth of attention.
I could sense Lizzie’s discouragement when she glanced back and saw that she’d only taken care of about ten hounds so far. There were at least fifty to go.
Shouting voices in the distance echoed off the unit walls.
“Time to go,” Lizzie said.
“No. We stay here.” Lizzie regularly worked with local law enforcement, and they’d be able to help us take care of these dirt bags.
She shook her head. “Even murdering a criminal is illegal if there isn’t just cause. There’s a reason we have a court system in place. You can’t just go around killing people.”
I grunted impatiently, but didn’t argue. I took her by the hand and pulled her up and around the dead bodies. We jumped out of the unit, but instead of heading to the opening of the facility, we ran deeper into it, going as far to the east as possible before running south toward the entrance. We made a wide berth around the cops and their lights.
Getting out of the facility was easy. We simply walked out, avoiding the two cameras. I knew they’d never be able to figure out it was us who’d used the code—not when it was given to everyone.
I didn’t let go of her hand after we left the facility and started toward the car. But after we’d walked for a few moments, she extricated her hand from mine.
“What was that for?” I asked.
“In case you didn’t notice, I was kissing another man earlier. Regardless, I can’t handle your mood swings. I never know if you’ll yell at me or be my best friend. You’re supportive and a jerk at the same time. It’s not exactly a turn-on.”
Crap. She was right. Obviously, she’d caught on to my frequent changes in mood. And naturally, it didn’t make her like me. I shook my head to myself. I couldn’t blame her. I’d definitely acted like a pendulum since we’d come into each other’s lives again.
How to make it better, though? How to help her understand where I was coming from without telling her exactly what was going on?
I turned to her and put my hands on her shoulders, gazing into her eyes. She flushed, her breath catching. I barely noticed the reaction she had to me—I’d probably analyze it later, but for now, I needed to say something, anything to help her see.
“Lizzie . . .” My brain tangled over the words, and before they rushed out of my mouth, getting me in a whole lot of trouble, I stopped myself. Finally, I sighed. “As soon as I know what’s going on in my own life, I’ll fill you in. I’m attracted to you—very attracted—but my situation is far from simple right now. It would be better if we didn’t date.”
All emotion—all attraction to me left her face immediately. And then she raised an eyebrow. “Date? Are you serious? Did it sound like I was about to ask you out?”
I chuckled, which only made her more annoyed. Crap. I was making a huge mess of this. I’d obviously said the wrong thing. But it was the truth. “No . . . no, it didn’t. I was mostly telling myself that.”
“Good. Because you haven’t exactly made me like you.”
It hurt to hear her say that. “And I’m really sorry about that. I truly am.” I held her gaze, wanting to be sure she sensed my sincerity, then released her.
Neither of us said anything more as we continued to my car. I cringed inwardly, thinking over my words. Had they helped at all? Or had they simply annoyed her even more?
A quick glance at her told me it was the latter—she looked frustrated. I hoped I’d get the chance to rectify the situation someday.
That led me to realize something. Not once had I imagined any method of murdering her tonight. Not once had it even crossed my mind, and we’d had plenty of alone time where I could have easily—easily—pulled it off. That made my chest swell with appreciation and happiness. I tried to push it away, not wanting to feel hope or any positive emotions, but I wasn’t successful.
We were almost back to her place when she got a call. I pulled over to the side of the road, not sure if we should continue or not.
“Chief? What’s up?”
She fell silent for several moments, then said, “Give me the address. I’ll get there soon as I can.”
“Should I turn around?” I asked when she explained that she was needed back at the storage unit.
She shook her head. “Continue to my house. I have to take my own car.”
I tilted my head at that. “Why?”
“Because if I don’t, it looks suspicious. I’m usually sleeping at this time. Actually, I’m always sleeping at this time. It’s three in the morning, Abel.”
Oh. Good point.
We weren’t far from her house—only a couple of blocks. I drove her there and dropped her off.
I was tempted to follow her back to the unit, but realized it wasn’t a good use of my time. I needed to sleep as much as possible while I had a while before the demon came out of the walls again. And then, after I woke up, it was time for me to start learning how to fight hounds.
Something whittled away at my thoughts, distracting me. I needed to figure out a way to keep hounds dead longer. Watching Lizzie use her amulet in the storage unit had been eye-opening. The amulet needed time to charge, to replenish itself. And I needed to find a way to keep hounds from regenerating so quickly.
I hadn’t forgotten my arrangement with the hound I’d fought a couple of weeks earlier. He would help me learn to fight hounds in exchange for teaching him a specific style of martial arts I’d bested him with.
I only slept for five hours. It would have to be enough. Once I’d eaten breakfast, I sent a text to the number the hound had given me.
Darrell, the hound, responded almost immediately, agreeing to meet me at my warehouse in a few hours. I verified that it would be empty, then marked a couple hours off as unavailable on the schedule before deciding to sleep more.
29
Darrell and I met at the warehouse two hours later. He wore stained gray sweatpants and a darker gray hoodie, also stained, with tattered sleeves. I knew not to be misled by his appearance. He’d already proven himself to be a competent fighter, and I was sure he could teach me plenty.
I would also be able to teach him, especially since he’d asked.
“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me where the Fire Impeder is?” he asked as I approached him.
I raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged.
“Figured I’d ask. Never hurts to double-check, right?”
Right. Whatever.
We’d only been inside for a couple of seconds when the hound pounced me. Even though I’m always on guar
d, expecting something like that to happen, it still came as a shock. Most people exchanged a couple more pleasantries before engaging in practice combat.
He shoved me against the wall, grinding my back into it. I squirmed out of his grasp, grabbed his arm, and flipped him over, slamming him to the floor.
“Ouch,” he said.
I ignored him. He might have been in actual pain, but my instincts told me he was trying to play at my sympathies.
Luckily—or unluckily—for him, social conventions and I don’t get along.
I stepped onto the mat and turned to face him.
That was all he needed.
The hound rushed at me, and our work began. We wrestled back and forth, testing out different styles. When one of us recognized what the other was doing, we called out the name of that style before moving on to the next one.
I quickly worked up a good sweat, and endorphins flooded my system, making me grin. Darrell was grinning too.
Not five minutes passed before we’d gone through at least twenty styles. Neither of us had thrown anything into the mix that the other hadn’t known.
I purposely avoided the style he’d asked me to train him on. That would come later. For now, it felt good to move, to use my muscles, to fight. And I could tell from his constant grin that he felt the same way.
It occurred to me then that I’d been lucky to find a hound who was similar to me in personality. This guy obviously enjoyed fighting, and not just to win, but for fighting’s sake itself. We were well matched. Our bodies were similar in size and build, and we had plenty of experience between the two of us.
I frowned, thinking about that. The guy had thousands of years on me. He should have been as many years ahead rather than evenly matched.
Twenty minutes later, we took a break, and I asked him why he wasn’t more experienced.
“I spent the majority of my life pursuing music,” he said. “I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed fighting until the last twenty years.”
That made sense.
Either way, he was good, but he had less experience than I did. Though, since he was immortal, he was probably willing to take more risks than I was. And in doing so, he’d gained experience.
We grabbed drinks from the fridge in the corner, then downed them while chatting about mundane things—the weather, sports, guns. Nothing too controversial for someone with our personalities.
Darrell set his drink down. “I’m ready to get to the real stuff.”
“Same.”
We stepped back to the mat and squared off.
Rather than jumping him immediately, as he probably expected, I started with instructions. First, I explained the history behind the style, including how I learned it and who taught it to me. I kept it short so his attention didn’t wander. Then I showed him basic defensive poses, followed by basic offensive tactics.
I didn’t attack immediately because he’d already seen what I’d be showing him.
As I instructed and he followed, we developed more respect for each other. He was a fast learner, and it was gratifying to teach him.
Once he started getting the hang of the more basic things, our conversation went off track and turned to Lizzie.
“I’ve heard about your contract with her,” Darrell said, dodging a kick.
“Oh?”
“You’re protecting her from hounds—unwilling to tell anyone where she is. Why, though? You’ll be rewarded, I’m assuming, for finishing her?”
“Of course. It’s not that simple.”
Darrell grunted as I landed a blow to his collarbone. We heard a crack, and he winced.
“Not the first time that’s broken.”
“Do you need to get it checked out?”
“No, it’ll heal.” He slumped to the mat, an expression of pain on his face.
I should have felt bad—I personally knew how painful a broken collarbone could be—but this man was the literal mortal enemy of the woman I was in love with.
As if sensing where my thoughts had gone, Darrell asked, “Why are you protecting her?”
I’d already told him it was complicated. There was no way I’d let him see weakness in me where she was concerned, though.
“Unlike you, I don’t actually like killing.”
“Dude, that was low.”
I smiled at his word choice, then sobered. “Why? You’re a Hound of Tindalos. You kill for sport—destroying everything in your path.”
“When I’m evil, yes.”
I blinked. “And you’re not right now?” Was he trying to pull a fast one on me?
“No, I’m not. Surely you’ve already heard that hounds switch back and forth on a regular basis?”
“Of course. I just assumed you chose the evil side all the time.”
He snorted. “Right. Naturally, you’d assume that. Oh, don’t get me wrong—I’m ‘evil’ at least seventy-five percent of the time. But I wasn’t in that frame of mind when I attacked you at the warehouse.”
I scowled at him. “Then why’d you attack me when I was trying to find a hound?”
He scoffed. “Do you really need to ask? You were walking around, asking questions about hounds—specific questions. The more people know about us, the more we’re drawn to them. It’s foolish and dangerous. I had to stop you.”
“Okay, good point. I achieved my purpose, though, didn’t I?”
“What was your purpose?”
“To meet a hound.”
“Then, yes, obviously you did.” He scowled at me. “Stop trying to distract me from my question.”
I played dumb. “What question?”
“Why don’t you just kill her?”
I sank to the mat a few feet from him, unsure why I found it easy to open up to him. “I’ve murdered plenty of people—mostly evil. What I said earlier was true. I don’t actually like killing. I want to change my life. I want to move on from assassination. I want to settle down and have a family and not need to worry that my kids will encounter someone who’d hired me at some point.”
“So, finish this contract and retire.”
If only it were that simple.
As we discussed my situation, something occurred to me. Somehow, sometime in the last few days, my heart had thawed. It had happened so gradually, I hadn’t even noticed it.
The thought of murdering Lizzie was yet again making me pause. Yet again hurting. Yet again making me desperate to find a way out of it.
I almost cried, right then and right there, in front of Darrell from discouragement and dismay.
I’d lost my chance. I’d lost the opportunity to kill her and not feel it so much.
Now what would I do?
Darrell thanked me, and we decided to part ways, planning to practice fighting again in a week or so. I’d learned a lot from him, though I suspected stopping him would be much different from stopping other hounds—they were, after all, different people.
As I drove toward my home, I couldn’t get my realization out of my mind. And the more I thought about it, the more it hurt. My heart felt like it was breaking all over again. Not even thinking about my mother’s freedom pushed me back into the frozen world I’d survived in for over a week.
No, I was back to hoping, praying, pleading, begging for a way to save both women. But how? How could I possibly protect them both and actually stop the Shadow Prophet? I’d exhausted every avenue. I hadn’t left a single leaf unturned. I’d literally explored every idea that I or those I’d talked to could come up with.
Something new nagged at the back of my mind, telling me I was missing a key component.
It killed me, not knowing what that might be.
Before I could devote too much of my thought to it, I realized something. Something else big that I’d missed.
I needed to focus on actively protecting Lizzie. Because my passive protections weren’t enough, and I could be doing more.
30
I knew that as soon as I started actively protecting her, I
wouldn’t ever be able to go back on my choice not to kill her. I didn’t have the emotional reservoir to flip yet again.
Once I made up my mind to find a way out of this mess, I couldn’t afford to change my mind again—I was far too fragile.
Would it be worth it, logistically?
Wanting to make sure, I sent a text to Melissa.
Do I still have that extension?
She responded immediately.
Yes.
I nodded. If my attack on the Shadow Prophet had made him take back that extension, it wouldn’t be worth it to try to save Lizzie. But with the extension still in place, I had to try.
Again.
I turned my attention to deciding how to put active protections on her. I realized that doing so would put me in some danger—they’d need to be actual protections, not just an alert spell—but it was necessary. And it needed to happen without her knowing.
As much as I hated the idea of doing it—this really put me in the creeper-stalker arena—I had to do it while she was sleeping. There was no way I’d be able to place the spells with her awake and aware of my actions. First, she wasn’t supposed to know about my tattoos—Lizzie was curious enough to badger me until I told her—and second, I wasn’t comfortable sharing this part of my life with her. At least, not yet.
I decided it would be better if I entered her house during the day, while she was gone, and then put protections on her later. That way, I’d minimize the risk of someone calling the cops on me like they would if they saw me sneaking into her house at night.
Knowing that the Russells were on my side, I decided to let them in on the plan. I headed there after I packed up some food and changed into more comfortable clothes.
I verified first that Lizzie wasn’t home, then knocked on the Russells’ door. Mrs. Russell answered the door right away.
“Abel! Come on in.”
Evening Storm (Midnight Chronicles Book 2) Page 10