by Juniper Hart
Junior gestured around at the crowd, most of whom had their cameras facing the duo, recording the madness which was occurring. Pascal unsteadily rose to his feet, feeling the crunch of broken bones as he stood, but he smiled through his red-stained face. He spat out a tooth and held up his pale hands in mock surrender.
“I call mercy,” he replied, backing away, still grinning obscenely. The customers seemed to wait with bated breath for Pascal’s next move, but they had nothing to worry about. He knew it was time to move along.
Without another word, Pascal spun and stole out of the seedy tavern into the night, his black coat emblazoned in the minds of the disturbed people inside. Later, when questioned by the police, they would only remember that jacket, a shiny, thick material which enveloped his form like an abyss.
He shouldn’t have been in the bar to begin with, but hindsight was always twenty-twenty, particularly in those days. Pascal was living much higher on regrets than he was on rational thought.
Still wiping sticky blood from his broken face, Pascal didn’t slow his pace as he stole through the shadowy streets. Only the sound of sirens in the distance caused him to stop on the corner of Emms Drive and Second Avenue, watching for the impending police vehicles.
As he ducked into the shadows, two cruisers flew past Pascal, lights flashing but apparently unaware of the tall shadow watching them pull up to the bar.
That was fast, Pascal thought with bemusement. They must have been in the neighborhood.
He couldn’t imagine another scenario when SAPS would react so quickly over a barfight. They had much more important things to worry about.
Pascal stepped into the ray of the streetlamp, leaning against the concrete pole, oddly unaware of the shocks of pain coursing through his body. The adrenaline worked as a painkiller and he was riding high on the event and Junior had gotten his lumps in, even without Pascal realizing.
Note to self: Stay away from that bar going forward, he mused.
He was running out of places to go now. Few places welcomed him anymore, his temper and reputation for starting fights preceded him. It was why he had already strayed so far away from home. That said nothing of the trouble that was bound to be waiting for him when Kyla inevitably learned what he’d done.
I’m surprised she didn’t get here before the cops, he thought bitterly. He knew he would be suffering the following day but that had nothing to do with the pain in his body. If Pascal had learned anything over the past year, it was to live in the here and now. Nothing was guaranteed.
He fixed his attention on the scene before him. Three officers leapt from their vehicle and rushed into the pub, their hands each posed cautiously above their guns, unsure of what they were about to face inside.
Pascal knew what they would see: the tattered remains of a body, broken on the floor where he had left the human to die. Pascal remained still, waiting for his absolution. Moments later, his patience was rewarded. An ambulance screeched around the corner, blocking the entrance at the street level. Pascal drew forward, watching as the paramedics removed a stretcher from the back of the emergency vehicle.
People began to mill about, spilling from the tavern, their faces masks of concern as they muttered among themselves. Pascal strained his ears to hear their wisps of conversation despite the incredible distance between them.
“…may be dead…”
“…not breathing…”
“…was that guy? He just went crazy!”
Their words mingled together in Pascal’s ears, one bleeding into the next, but they made no sense to him. Pascal felt air escape his lungs in a whoosh as the medical attendants emerged from the building, pushing the gurney. The man on the wheeled bed was covered from head to toe in a sheet. There was no mistaking what that meant. Pascal drew back into the shadows, sighing so deeply, his muscled form almost collapsed.
He’s dead. I killed him, he thought.
He didn’t look over his shoulder as he walked away, a twinge of regret and shock surging through him.
He was out of control and he knew it.
The pounding on the door did nothing to alleviate the same thudding in Pascal’s head but he knew from experience that it wouldn’t go away until he dealt with it. That didn’t get him off the couch any faster but as he had already anticipated, Kyla appeared before him, her olive skin flushed with fury.
“What the hell?” she howled, smacking him in the shoulder when Pascal didn’t move from the couch. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m trying to sleep,” Pascal muttered, turning his back toward her, but not before he peeked at her, noting how formidable she looked with her hands on her hips, dark eyes flashing.
“You killed another human in town last night?!”
Pascal groaned and pulled his arms over his head in a weak attempt to block her out.
“Can we please do this some other time?” Pascal groaned. “I have a headache.”
“You are a bloody headache!” Kyla roared. “What did I tell you the last time? I told you if you can’t control yourself, I’m going to—”
“Yeah, yeah, get in contact with Anatoli,” Pascal interjected. “You keep saying that and yet here we are, having the same conversation as always.”
He didn’t need to turn over to see the look of utter dismay on Kyla’s face.
“Are you trying to get yourself sent home… or…?”
Pascal flipped over and scowled at her.
“Or what? Killed? Outed to my tribe? What? What are you trying to threaten me with this time, Kyla?”
They stared at one another for a long moment until Kyla looked away, shaking her silken waves in disbelief.
“Why did you agree to be a Sleeper if you had no intention of seeing it through?” she asked but it wasn’t the first time she’d asked him that question either.
“I must be a glutton for punishment,” Pascal replied sarcastically. “Will you please go?”
He squeezed his eyes shut but he could feel Kyla still staring at him, trying to figure out what was going through his head.
I wish I knew what was going through my head, he thought miserably. All I know is that I’m trapped in this life and there is no escape. I’ve been abandoned by Franz and the tribe. If I try to leave here, who knows what Anatoli will do and even if she lets me go, will Franz let me back? It’s pretty clear what his feelings are if he hasn’t come for me, even after I sent that letter.
“I can’t keep covering for you, Pascal.”
There was a tenderness in Kyla’s words that caused him to open his eyes again and catch the look of nervousness on her face.
“Why do you keep covering for me?” he asked gruffly, the answer genuinely interesting to him. “What’s in it for you?”
The corners of Kyla’s mouth tightened and she spun away.
“Honestly, I’m not sure anymore,” she retorted, moving toward the door, but before she could reach it, Pascal stood between her and the exit, startling her.
“I wish you’d stop doing that,” she grumbled, looking away, but not before Pascal caught the wistful expression on her face.
“I’m sorry,” he said hastily, his ever-slow heartbeat picking up slightly at her nearness. “I’m being an asshole because I’m hungover.”
“Not because you killed someone?” she snapped, folding her arms under her swelling chest line. It was impossible for Pascal not to look at her cleavage, the desire to sink his lips against the gentle throb of her pulse almost unbearable.
That’s all you need. More drama, he thought, wrenching his eyes away from her.
“It was a brawl, an accident,” Pascal told her. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him.”
“Cal, your drinking is out of control now. If you want to go home, just say the word and I can make it happen.”
“No!”
He answered without hesitation, the feeling sincere in the shadow of Kyla’s nearness. It was impossible for him to understand, the bittersweet attraction he felt for
the witch, the mistrust and necessity he felt for her. He still did not understand who she was in the grand scheme of the Sleepers, but he knew that she had kept him off Anatoli’s radar for the same reason—she was just as drawn to him as he was to her.
Of course, neither of them had ever crossed the line, not even when they stood with their faces inches apart and yearning to brush against one another.
As always, Kyla was the one to step back first, sensing that Pascal’s resolve was much weaker.
“I don’t know what you’re doing, Cal, but it has to stop. There’s only so much I can do to keep Anatoli at bay but sooner or later, she’s going to figure out that you’re a wild card.”
“I’m not a wild card,” Pascal sighed but even as he spoke the words, he wasn’t sure how true they were.
“Whatever,” Kyla sighed, reaching for the door. “I know I keep saying it, but I mean it. This is your last warning. Either get it together or I’m calling Anatoli myself and letting her deal with you. I can’t risk my own neck for you…”
Not anymore. Pascal could hear the unspoken addendum.
“It won’t happen again,” he muttered.
“Until the next time,” Kyla shot back. “I’m onto you, Cal.”
She didn’t wait for him to respond as she moved out of the house, again leaving him alone to ponder his actions.
Maybe it’s time to move on out of here before I get both of us in trouble, Pascal thought but as he always did, he dismissed the idea. There was nowhere to go now. His life was in Cape Town, removed from his tribe. No, he wasn’t going anywhere. He just needed to be more careful going forward. If he killed again, he needed to make sure that Kyla didn’t find out about it.
4
The silence on the other end of the phone was almost deafening. Each second that passed seemed to be a full hour as she waited for Anatoli to speak.
“Are you sure you’re telling me everything?” Anatoli finally said. “I feel like you’re keeping something from me, Kyla.”
“I’m not,” she replied quickly. “I’m just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well for some reason.”
“Does that reason have anything to do with Pascal Wyndham?”
Kyla gritted her teeth.
“No,” she insisted truthfully. “I haven’t been sleeping well for a while.”
“You wouldn’t be hiding anything from me, would you, Kyla? I mean, how long have we been friends now?”
Kyla almost snorted. Anatoli had no friends and for her to be playing the “friend” card was highly suspect and moderately amusing.
“Anything else, Ana? I have things to do today,” Kyla said briskly. “Not to rush you off the phone or anything.”
Another pause ensued and Kyla felt a twinge of worry as her superior inhaled.
“Nothing for now,” she finally said. “But I should schedule a trip down to see you soon.”
This time, Kyla couldn’t help but laugh.
“Right. And land yourself in a South African shifter prison,” she snickered. Anatoli hissed.
“I’ve been evading law enforcement on every level since you were in nappies, Kyla,” she shot back. “You’d do well to remember who you’re dealing with.”
The threat hung over the airways, but Kyla didn’t take the bait. She knew Anatoli well enough to know that her bark was often worse than her bite.
Often. Not always.
“Well, if you do plan a trip, let me know so I can make up the guest room,” Kyla said dryly.
“You don’t have a guest room.”
Anatoli hung up as a shiver of apprehension shot through Kyla’s body.
She’s not watching over me. She has no interest in what I’m doing. It’s only my guilty conscience gnawing at me.
Not that she had no reason to feel guilty. Not only had she failed at doing her job, but she had crossed a line, at least in her own mind.
She couldn’t be sure where it had started, how she had come to realize that she was sticking her neck out for Pascal in ways that she had never done for other recruits.
It wasn’t that other trainees hadn’t tried to seduce the lovely and quick-witted Kyla on occasion, but Pascal had not done that. In fact, he had gone out of his way to keep his hands to himself, despite the almost palpable energy flowing between them. In the beginning, Kyla had found the attraction annoying, distracting, but as the months slipped by, she realized that whatever force was drawing her to Pascal was almost impossible to ignore.
Yet she did precisely that.
She had thought that perhaps Pascal was using their connection as a way to take advantage of her, but it became apparent that wasn’t the issue either. It was almost as if Pascal wanted to be caught and thrown from the program with his incessant drinking and fighting. Kyla knew it would be for the best if he was sent far away but the notion made her stomach churn and her heart stop. It was a combination of failing Anatoli and not wanting Pascal to go.
But the man was infuriating at best.
He had lost his job at the call center over six months earlier and instead of finding more work, he had turned to a career of partying.
“Go home, then!” Kyla yelled at him one night when a contact in town had called for her to come and pick up his inebriated behind.
“Go home to what?” Pascal had replied dully. “What home?”
Kyla had broken the promise she had made to herself long ago about not getting involved with her recruits because Pascal wasn’t like the others who had come across her path.
It was beginning to become excruciating keeping her distance from him and she was wondering if it was worth it to fight it anymore.
It will be worth it if Anatoli ever shows up on your front step and catches you sleeping with a recruit, she thought furiously but oddly, the threat of being caught by Anatoli did not dissuade her as it should have.
Whatever power Pascal had over her was growing.
And Kyla didn’t mind it at all.
She sighed and stared at the cell phone, pressing her lips together. As if sensing her eyes on it, the device rang. Hope flooded through Kyla’s heart and she reached for it, but it diminished just as fast when she realized it wasn’t Pascal calling her back.
“Mholo,” she answered, falling back against the kitchen chair.
“Kyla, it’s Dex.”
Goosebumps exploded over her arms and she paused, carefully considering her words before speaking. There was not a single reason that she could imagine Dexter calling her, unless on order from Anatoli.
Dammit! She’s really coming here on his back!
“Hello, Dex…” she said, managing to keep her voice as even as possible. “How are you?”
“I’m calling to inform you that things are becoming unraveled around here,” Dex told her grimly. “If I were you, I’d cut my losses and start over somewhere.”
It was really the last thing she had expected to hear from Anatoli’s right-hand man but as she opened her mouth to question him, he rushed on.
“You won’t be hearing from me again,” Dex continued. “But I thought you deserved a heads-up, considering how loyal you’ve been to the cause.”
He’d been loyal too! What was going on?
“What’s happening over there, Dex? Is it the Cabal? Are they—”
“It’s not the Cabal,” Dex said, his voice eerily flat. “It’s Ana. She’s not who she pretends to be.”
There was nothing else but silence to follow his words and it took Kyla several seconds to realize that he had hung up on her. Her breaths escaped in short, uneven rasps as she tried to make sense of what Dexter had just told her.
What do I do now? Do I call Anatoli? Should I call him back?
Neither option was particularly appealing. If Anatoli didn’t know that Dex was working against her, Kyla was sure she didn’t want to be the one to rat him out. On the other hand, if Dex had gone rogue, Anatoli might be in danger.
Or maybe I should get somewhere safe and then figure it out,
she thought.
Instantly, Kyla was on her feet, grabbing for her cell phone and keys as she slammed out of her house. In seconds, she climbed back into her car and started heading toward Pascal’s house.
Whatever’s happening, I’ll get me and Pascal to a safehouse that only I know about and we’ll figure it out from there.
She idly wondered if Pascal would go with her. He didn’t put up the same resistance that he once had but then again, she had never tried to live with him.
The sun was setting over the horizon as she made her way toward Portland, her foot riding heavily over the gas. It was another hour to Wellington where the safehouse was and she was sure there were no supplies inside the flat.
We’ll need to stop on the way. I’m sure Pascal doesn’t have a single thing.
She took the roundabout to his neighborhood and pulled into the driveway, leaving the keys in the ignition as she bounded toward the house.
“Wakey-wakey,” she called out, slamming into the unlocked house. “There’s no time to explain but…”
She trailed off when she realized that Pascal wasn’t lying in his usual spot on the sofa, nor was he in the bathroom.
“Cal?” she called out. “Where are you?”
She backtracked through the tiny house, but it was clear that the vampire was nowhere in sight.
“Son of a bitch!” she swore, sinking onto the sofa. There was only one place he could be at that time of the day.
He’s gone out drinking again, she thought furiously, pressing her lips together with anger. She had not gotten through to him that morning any more than she had any other day.
Why was she surprised?
She was not as surprised as she was desperate to find Pascal and figure out what was going on back at the compound. Unfortunately, she had no idea where to start looking for him. There were certainly places from which he had been evicted and would not return but in a place the size of Cape Town, there were far more pubs that he hadn’t been than those he had.
Inhaling deeply, Kyla knew there was only one thing she could do—sit back and wait for Pascal to eventually stumble home.