by Karen Glista
“Pardon?” she shouted, turning her head. Their cheeks brushed, the sensation of his short-cropped beard forcing a shocking current to race through her veins.
They locked eyes. “Don’t leave with that man!” he said and though she couldn’t be certain, she thought he shuddered and the urgency in his voice sent her heart into a tailspin. Her pulse quickened and as he pulled back from her, his dark, numinous eyes narrowed, sliding over her head to toe.
“Torin!” Gage boomed, from behind her. “Pull up a stool and join us, my friend.”
Torin flashed a harrowing look past Donja to Gage.
Donja turned to Gage and after a moment, the welcoming smile on his face faded. He stood up. “What the hell’s wrong?” he asked, suspicion dancing in his blue eyes.
By no will of her own, as if something was luring her, Donja turned back to the man and his eyes were still upon her. She saw him shudder violently just as Gage, who must have been waiting for a response, shouted. “Torin!”
Torin didn’t respond to Gage, not even a blink. He just stood there, statuesque, eyes locked on Donja with a tightly held jaw.
“What the hell?” Gage roared so loud that Donja winced as he rounded the table with his nervous eyes scanning the crowd. He grabbed Torin’s arm, but even that didn’t pull his eyes from Donja.
Makayla came around the table, strobe lights illuming her face. “Donja,” she cried over the blare of music, her eyes trailing from Torin’s face to Donja’s.
Donja dropped her head, reeling.
Who is this man, my God he can see right through me? What power is this?
Her hand found her brow and seized by something indiscernible, began to shiver. She slowly raised her head, and he was still staring, and then with a shocked expression as if he had seen a ghost, he took a step back, raised his hand and combed his thick, dark mane with his fingers.
“Torin! Man, are you okay?” Gage asked again and though Donja couldn’t be sure, she thought Gage was sniffing the air as he spun his head, surveying the crowd.
“He’s here,” Torin mumbled, as his maniacal eyes once more found Donja’s. “He has his sights on this female.”
Donja winced, the power of his voice forcing chill bumps which danced on her skin.
“Who has his eyes on her?” Makayla screeched.
Reduced to nervous anguish, Donja slid from the bar stool and joined Makayla’s side.
“I asked you a question,” Makayla barked, embracing Donja.
Gage held his hand up to silence her, his eyes on Torin. “So, what are you going to do?” he asked with anxious eyes scanning the crowd. “You can’t attack him in here, too many people would be killed.”
“Killed!” Makayla screamed. “What the hell, Gage?”
Torin, unwilling to take his eyes off Donja took a step toward her, then as if struck by lightning backed away with an agonizing grimace.
“What’s the plan?” Gage roared.
Torin shuddered, his fist balled like weapons. “She needs to leave. He’ll follow, he can’t help himself.” He swallowed hard, his eyes on her neck. “It’s her blood,” his lips trembled, “too powerful to resist.”
Gage glanced to Donja, “She’s Rh which is rare but…”
“There’s more,” Torin interrupted. “She’s not just Rh-null,” he declared with a faraway look in his eyes.
Gage turned to Donja, his nostrils flaring. He shook his head in disbelief. “Damn, I was so lost in Makayla’s scent that I missed it. She’s Chippewa.”
“Stop this bullshit right now!” Makayla glowered. “Donja, get your purse, we’re leaving.”
Donja spun to get her purse, gripping the table, weak in the knees. She took a moment, her mind racing. Finally, mustering strength, she turned. Torin and Gage were gone.
“Who is that man?” she stammered while clinging to Makayla, her mouth to her ear.
“I don’t know him personally, but he and Gage work together.”
“Doing what?”
“He’s a detective named Torin Mancini and Gage is a forensic investigator.”
Donja leaned back on the table. “How could his eyes so weaken me and how the hell do they know my blood type, or that I’m Chippewa?”
Makayla seized her hand. “There’s no time to explain that right now, we need to get out of here, fast!”
Completely mesmerized by Torin’s eyes, which had taken residence in her mind, Donja followed behind Makayla, winding through the crowd. Exiting the front door of ‘Observers,’ they bypassed crowds of people lined up to get inside. Down the sidewalk, bathed in golden light from the antiquated street lamps, they bypassed a few lone stragglers and then a couple who looked intoxicated. Rounding a corner to an abandoned sidewalk they stepped up the pace with spiked heels tapping in unison. Suddenly, the man who had rescued Donja from the bathroom stampede dropped down from atop a two-story roof and crouched on the sidewalk in front of them.
Donja screamed with a near fall. Clutching each other, she and Makayla backed up.
“Well, my pretty, we meet again,” he said, lamps flickering on the wicked scar that marred his face.
“Who are you?” Makayla screeched.
“I have no quarrel with you, bitch, I can see that you’re marked, it’s the Chippewa I want,” he grumbled as he took a step forward, eyes locked on Donja.
“Help!” Makayla screamed in a vain attempt to draw attention. She glanced around and seeing no one, planted herself between the man and Donja. “I know what you are and if you touch me, my Iridescent will be all over you!”
From nowhere, Donja saw a streak of darkness and as it slammed into the scar-faced man, she realized it was Torin. They rolled upon the sidewalk, slugging with fists and growls not of this world, blood droplets splashing the walls. A scream tore from her and she backed up, movement in her periphery drawing her eyes as Gage came streaking so fast she could hardly track his movement. He joined in the battle as a field of glowing light encompassed their bodies.
She felt Makayla grip her tightly. “Run,” she cried and the terror in her eyes was chilling. They bolted, hand in hand down the sidewalk and crossed a street, not a car in sight. Suddenly, Makayla’s spike on her right heel wedged on the curb and snapped. She fell to a heap then sat up, terror mounting in her eyes. She ripped her pumps from her feet and tossed them away.
Realizing the dilemma of running in six-inch heels, Donja, with her heart stampeding raised one leg then another and let them fall where they may. She extended her hand and Makayla took it. She pulled her to her feet and they turned, fleeing into shadows.
Finding the Mustang, they got in inside and Donja whose breathing was erratic, fired the engine then hit the lock button on the doors. She backed up, then cut the wheel and just as she pressed the pedal to the medal with tires squealing, she glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw the scar-faced man, whose shirt hung in tattered shreds, standing in the middle of the street, watching their departing taillights. She glanced to the road, then immediately back to the rear-view mirror. He was gone.
She drove on, without words, their breaths haggard. After they passed through customs, Donja relaxed a bit. She glanced at the digital clock on the dash, 12:07. She took a deep breath, hoping to mentally escape the situation, but it was not to be. She still trembled.
“I saw the big man in the road when we left,” she breathed. “Do you think he killed Torin and Gage?”
“No,” Makayla said with a sniffle in her voice, “they most likely backed off if people saw the fight or they felt innocent lives were in danger.”
Donja gripped the steering wheel tightly, Torin’s unforgettable eyes looming in the glow of the headlights.
She cut a side glance to Makayla who looked totally defeated. Tears were streaming her cheeks and her hands were trembling. “Do you want to tell me what just happened?” Donja asked, fighting for control.
Silence for a moment or two and then the floodgates opened, and Makayla began to wail.
“Makayla!” Donja shirked. “Talk to me. This feels totally unreal, what’s happening?”
“I didn’t want you to know, no one knows, not even Heather, but Gage is not exactly,” she paused with a look that reeked of terror, “mortal.”
“What the hell are you talking about, you’re scaring the shit out of me,” Donja bellowed, tears welling in her eyes.
“Gage is an Iridescent.”
“A what?”
“A Radiant Iridescent, a spirit…blood sucker, an immortal.”
“A vampire?”
“Well not exactly like the movies portray them, but similar,” she sobbed, wringing her hands.
“Are you fucking with my head?” Donja snapped, “because this is not funny!”
“No, quite the contrary,” she blubbered.
“I can’t believe this shit, and that man,” she said, “the one with the scar on his face. How the hell could he jump off a two-story building?”
“He’s one too, they have abilities, unimaginable power.”
“This is insane,” Donja laughed hysterically.
“I’m sorry, I should have been forthcoming with you, but I never expected this to happen. Like I said, Heather doesn’t even know the truth and she’s been going to the club with me forever.”
Donja exhaled dramatically. “In all the days of my life…I’ve never heard of such.” She shook her head. “Not real, not real, it can’t be,” she mumbled, her tortured mind spinning. She fixated her eyes on the road, listening as Makayla’s sobs intensified, “Would you stop!” Donja shrieked.
Makayla dropped her hands, mascara and tears streaking her cheeks.
“Have I gone crazy, have I finally lost it?” Donja asked with veiled eyes.
“No, it’s all real, Donja, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed.
“So, when I woke up at night and you were on the phone, I thought it was Heather, but it wasn’t…was it? It was Gage.”
“Yes.” She sobbed.
“Okay,” Donja exhaled with a huff, “why didn’t you tell me…” her words trailed off, instantly replaced by a gut-wrenching scream as her headlights illumed the scar-faced man standing in the middle of the bridge with his fist clenched, his jaw tight and his numinous eyes upon them.
“What the hell!” Donja screamed as she gassed the car increasing speed to ninety and climbing, driving straight toward him. She swerved to miss an oncoming vehicle, horns blasting, then cut sharp to the right, a semi approaching.
“You’re going to hit him!” Makayla screamed.
Suddenly from nowhere, they saw Torin drop from the cables, like a lead balloon right on top of the scar-faced man. Donja hit the brakes, tires squealing and in the chaos that followed, they slid with the smell of burning rubber, past a pickup truck, so close Donja could have reached out and touched his fender. Torin and the scar-faced man, who were engaged in heavy battle, went rolling as cars swerved, blaring horns shattering the night. With their images a blur, they landed atop the hood of a car which ricocheted off a truck then slammed into the cabled edge of the bridge, ejecting Torin and the scar-faced man over the guard rail.
“Holy shit!” Donja screeched swerving among cars and people who were exiting their vehicles to gaze over the bridge to the river below. Finally, free of the mayhem she pressed the gas pedal, building speed with the lights of the Michigan Soo, luring her home. She hit the brakes, tires squealing again as they exited the bridge, then took a sharp right off the ramp onto Highway 75, once more picking up speed. She flashed her dilated eyes to Makayla. “How the hell did he get past us without a car?”
“I’ll explain it all once we get home, just concentrate on the road,” Makayla whispered as if in a daze.
“Fine,” she smirked, “whatever, but tell me one thing? Why did he do that? Did he want me to run him down?”
“No,” she answered with a hushed whisper, “it was just a warning that he has his eyes on you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“A sign, and not a good one I’m afraid.”
“Sign of what?” Donja blurted.
“That he wants you, either to kill you and drink your blood, or to mark you as his own.”
“Well let’s call the police.” Donja groaned. “On second thought, let’s go to the damn station right now.”
Makala laughed hysterically. “We can’t,” she sobbed, her tear-streaked faced illuminated by the dashboard lights. “They would kill my father and make me watch before killing me. Same for you, they’d kill Frankie and then your mom in your presence, then kill you.”
“Who?”
“The Council.”
“What the fuck’s a Council?” Donja screamed.
“A group of powerful elites who will kill all who dare to expose them as Iridescents.”
Donja turned into the drive and sped through the trees toward Hampton Manor. She parked the Mustang and they got out, running barefoot for the front door. Atop the steps while Makayla fumbled for her keys, Donja grasped her arm. “Is that man, Torin, a member of the Council?”
“Yes, but a lesser member than the elites.”
“And Gage?”
“Yes, he and Torin work under the guise of the Soo Police Department not only to conceal evidence against Iridescents but to gain knowledge of rogue Iridescents who must be terminated.”
“So, they’re like hitmen taking out both sides as needed to protect their identity.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”
“And why on earth would this scar-faced beast want me?”
“Donja!” A male voice shattered the night.
They both spun amid horrified gasps and Makayla dropped her keys. Donja backed to the door, her eyes on Torin, sitting on the hood of her Mustang. He motioned with his finger, moonlight glistening on his wet, ebony hair.
“Get inside,” Donja whispered to Makayla, her eyes locked on Torin.
“No, I put you in this predicament, let me try to reason with him.”
“No way. Now get inside,” Donja said as she padded down the steps and out to the drive. She stopped and glanced back to the house, Makayla was gone. She glanced back at Torin who was soaking wet. His right eye was swollen, his nose bloodied. She walked toward him and noticed his shirt was ripped with one sleeve dangling.
“Don’t come any closer!” he snapped with a voice that sent her heart aflutter. She stopped, eying him from afar. She saw him shiver.
“You’re hurt.”
“I’ll heal within the hour, but you won’t if he gets his hands on you.”
“Do you mean that scar-faced man?”
“Yes. He’s a sadistic murderer.”
Donja raised a hand and with her tremulous fingers, combed her locks. “Will he come here?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, my God.” She spun in a circle, hands gripping her head, wincing as the cobblestone drive cut into her bare feet.
He leapt from the car with his nostril’s flaring and backed away. “Get back, he growled, “you’re bleeding.”
Donja raised her foot and saw a small nick with a trickle of blood.
She watched him back further away, fist clenched, eyes locked upon her and my God…he looked like a predator, ready to pounce. Her knees weakened, her heart strumming her temples. Finding a bit of courage, she whimpered. “So, what do I do?”
He just stared in silence with a chorus of crickets serenading the night.
Donja exhaled, her chest tight and as the gravity of the events settled upon her, a tear streaked her cheek.
He cocked his head, turned in a circle as if to leave then paused, eyes locked upon her. “Don’t cry…please, I can’t take it.”
She wiped at her face, with the back of her hand. “I can’t help it, I’m scared.”
“I know, I can smell it.”
“Am I going to die?”
“No. I’ll keep men posted on this house every hour of every day, do all I can to protect you.”
“Oh no, what have I gotten myself into,” she mumbled with a hand to her brow. She met his stare, moonlight reflecting in his eyes. “Why is this happening?”
“Your blood.”
“My blood. What the hell does that mean?”
“It’s sacred.”
“How can blood be sacred?”
“You have non-Caucasian, Rh null and believe me, it’s sacred. It’s the only blood type on earth that’s free of antigens.”
“I can’t help that,” Donja sighed, “I inherited my father’s blood.”
“And he was Chippewa of the Durent Clan. He had to be, it’s the only bloodline capable of birthing an Iridescent.”
“How do you know that?”
“You and my wife are ancestors.”
Donja felt her stomach churn.
Wife?
She caught herself mentally. “Well, what about the police, aren’t you a detective?”
“Don’t make me kill you,” he admonished with a shake of his head, “don’t make me, please, I don’t want to, but believe me, if you talk, it will happen.”
“Then what do I do?” she asked as the tears came again.
He gripped his head. “Stop crying!”
“I can’t, I’m terrified.” She glanced through veiled eyes to the overhead orb, so big and bright. She swallowed tears and met his gaze. “How do I protect my family?”
“You can’t,” he said backing up, “but I told you, I will.”
“Why would you do that for me? Wouldn’t it be easier to just wipe me out and end this once and for all?”
He backed farther away, a hand raised as if to shield himself from some unseen force. “I’ll hold to my word, I’ll have men, undetected, watching you night and day.”