by Frost Kay
People lazily meandered down the road, laughing and whispering as their group passed. She saw feathers, scales, fur, small ears, big ears, beaks, claws, whiskers, fangs, and all manner of people she couldn’t even classify. It was as if she’d entered a fantasy world.
Hazel tried not to stare, she really did, but at some point, she stopped. If they were going to blatantly ogle her, why couldn’t she do the same? Head held high, she observed the people like the queen of a court. They could gossip and laugh all they wanted at her predicament, but she wouldn’t break. The people of Harbor like Gen had tried and failed. These creatures’ opinions meant nothing to her.
They wove through a market teeming with people and soft music as the last rays of sun faded from the sky. A little girl with abnormally huge grey eyes and feathery-white hair darted away from her mother and skidded to a stop before Hazel. The little one reached out a finger and touched her leg once before her mama scooped her up.
“Mama, she’s soft.”
“It’s dangerous, Shel.”
Hazel colored when she realized the “it” the woman referred to was herself. It bothered her that the woman was sincerely frightened for her child.
“I would never hurt a little one,” she said softly. Children were innocent, no matter to whom they were born.
“Pity your people don’t have the same standards,” the woman sneered through angular lips that almost looked beak-like.
What was that supposed to mean?
Jameson placed a hand on her back and directed her away from the scowling woman who clutched her child to her chest like she thought Hazel would snatch the child away and devour it. The whole thing was absurd and disconcerting.
They traveled to the northern side of the town, her head on a swivel the entire time. The monster might have wanted to show off his new possession, but there was a catch twenty-two. He was inadvertently showing her the town, and Hazel had an excellent memory. She hid her smile. He’d given her exactly what she needed to escape.
She’d bide her time and eventually disappear without a trace.
The homes faded into large buildings that she assumed were for crop storage. Just past those, the northern farms started in a great green arch. She scanned the lush foliage that butted up to a high chain-link fence topped with rusted barbwire. A barren stretch of land was sandwiched between the two fences. She followed the second fence until it dead-ended against the red stone bluff and a group of evergreen trees so dark, they looked black.
As the last vestiges of day completely disappeared and night descended in full, lights along the farthest fence turned on, one after another, illuminating the wilderness. A yip pierced the air, and Hazel suppressed a shiver. She’d never forget how the lobos had hunted her and almost succeeded in waiting her out once they’d treed her. Her lip curled. She hoped the armed men roaming along the fence line took out a few of the awful creatures.
Jameson turned to the left, and she followed hot on his heels. Even though she was behind two fences, the hunting yips of the wolf-like animals set her on edge. Her eyes narrowed as she attempted to see the nonexistent path the hawk man was walking along. She squeaked when her foot caught on a root and she toppled forward, unable to catch herself. Hazel threw out her cuffed hands to brace for the fall.
This was going to hurt.
A huge hand caught her left arm right before she ate dirt and hauled her up. Her shoulder screamed, but she hardly noticed the pain as her attention dropped to the scale-covered hand wrapped around her bicep. In the night light, her skin glowed a pale gold against his shiny onyx scales. It would have made a pretty contrast if her skin wasn’t crawling at the sensation of his scales sliding against her arm.
Hazel eyed the black, pointed nails that could tear her apart if he wanted. Did he file them into that shape, or were they naturally like that? Either way, it was disturbing. She craned her neck and peered up into the face of the monster staring down passively. Hazel bared her teeth at him and ripped her arm out of his grip. She hissed when his nails scraped against her skin, but they didn’t draw blood, so it was worth it.
“That was stupid,” he growled.
Maybe, but he wasn’t touching her anymore, so she counted it as a win. Hazel turned her back on him and stalked after Jameson. The man watched with amusement. The look on his face said that he was loving the drama and would have welcomed a drink to keep watching the goings-on.
She glared at him and tried to ignore the dark cloud following in their wake that wouldn’t disappear no matter how much she mentally willed him to. She reached out a hand and ran her fingers along the waist-high greenery. Despite the crappy situation, a small smile lifted her lips as the cool leaves drifted under her fingertips. Hazel closed her eyes for a moment, and she could almost imagine she’d snuck out and was on a walk at home.
Hazel opened her eyes and meandered after Jameson. Her brows furrowed as she spotted a little cottage out by itself nestled at the base of the bluff. She glanced toward the fence line. It was pretty damn close to where the first fence dead-ended. A sense of foreboding washed over her. Was this where they took their enemies to torture them? It was far away enough from the homes that no one would hear her screams.
A ripple of unease rolled through her, and her steps slowed. Was she willingly walking into danger? Hazel eyed the fence out of the corner of her eye. It wasn’t too far. Could she make it? Her lips thinned. Even if she did make it to the fence, there was no way she could escape while chained up. Woodenly, she marched toward the little terracotta home that was most likely where she’d die.
“I need to speak with you,” the monster barked.
Hazel paused but didn’t look his way, continuing to stare ahead at Jameson. Just because he purchased her didn’t mean she needed to give him a speck of respect. He didn’t deserve her attention. Again, her gaze flicked back to the fence that was tantalizingly close.
“Just because I can’t see your face doesn’t mean I don’t know what you’re thinking. You’d never make it over the fence. Hell, you’d never make it to the fence. But go ahead and try. This week has been boring, and I could use the exercise.”
She pressed her lips together, determined not to engage. If she was silent, he’d go away sooner. All bullies did when they didn’t get the reaction they wanted.
“No comment? Well, that’s a first.”
Her back molars ground together, and her nostrils flared as she tried to rein in the edges of her temper. What about him riled her so? All she wanted to do was rip his bloody head off. Her brows snapped together when he inhaled deeply behind her. Was he sniffing her? Grossed out, Hazel took two swift steps forward.
“That’s enough of that,” she barked.
“There it is. The anger I was waiting for.”
Hazel didn’t dare deny it. She wasn’t stupid. Jameson had already let the cat out of the bag that some of the Tainted could scent emotions. It was disturbing as hell. The monster chuckled, and goosebumps appeared along her forearms. She rubbed at them viciously and crossed her arms.
“You know, most would be thankful for the kindness I’ve done for you.”
That was the last straw.
“Kindness?” she hissed, twisting to face him. Hazel uncrossed her arms and rattled her chains. “You call this a kindness? Is this how you treat your friends? If so, I pity them.”
“Is that so?” he drawled, the scales of his cheekbones shining in moonlight.
“Yeah, because you’re worse than a monster. You’re pretending to be the good guy when you’re just the animalistic Tainted villain.”
As soon as the slur passed her lips, she knew she made a mistake. The male in front of her seemed to swell, and violence sparked in the night air. A hair-raising growl rumbled in his chest that was enough to have her turning tail and fleeing. Jameson stood on the cottage porch, sympathy all over his expression.
Oh, God. The monster was going to kill her, and the cottage was too far away.
A whooshing
filled her ears as she leapt over a small fence surrounding a substantial herb garden, and Hazel skidded to a stop when the monster landed in a crouch between her and the cottage, his massive leathery wings fully extended on each side. She back-peddled, her bare feet sinking in the wet earth. A wet crunch sounded beneath the sole of her foot as she stepped on a poor plant, the pungent scent of oregano perfuming the air.
Her breath hitched when the monster lifted his head and regarded her through the fringe of his black hair. She took a hesitant step to her right and cringed when he tracked her movement and stood to his full imposing height, his wings completely blocking Jameson from her view. His chest billowed in and out with deep breaths, and his hands twitched at his sides as if he wanted to strangle her.
Out of self-preservation, she took another slow step closer to the fence, mud squishing between her toes.
The monster pointed a finger at her, tipped with a pointed black nail. “That was uncalled for.”
“What?” she mumbled.
“The name-calling.”
A hysterical laugh gurgled in the back of her throat. “So is growling.”
“I only growled because you were rude and disrespectful.”
Another step toward the fence. “And you think you deserve respect, because you own me?” she bit out.
His lip curled. “Well, I sure as hell didn’t want you.”
That gave her a pause. “Then why not let Matt take me?”
The monster scoffed. “He couldn’t afford you even if he wanted to. Marco would have outbid him a hundred times.”
The soulless-looking man with spiky hair flashed through her mind, and she shivered.
“That’s right. You could have ended up in his home tonight, and I promise you he’s not nearly as kind as I am.”
“So, you did me a favor?” she murmured sarcastically.
“No, I did my abuelita a favor.”
Hazel cocked her head. His grandmother? He had a grandmama? She glanced at the fence once more. That was disconcerting. A gust whipped through the air, and she stifled a shriek when the monster landed less than two feet from her, somehow managing not to damage any of the plants around them.
He scanned her from head to toe and sneered. “I am giving you one chance, Untouched. One. My abuelita needs help to care for her home and garden. That’s what you’re here for. If you step out of line, there will be consequences.” He leaned into her space until they were almost cocooned by his wings, his dark eyes like chips of obsidian. “And if you think to hurt one of my own, I will kill you.”
A primal fear quivered in her belly. Hazel pinned her gaze to a point in the middle of his chest and wrapped her arms around herself. He meant every word. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he would kill her if she hurt his grandmother.
“Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal,” she whispered. Hazel licked her lips and swallowed hard. “Now, if you’re done intimidating me, I’d like to get out of the mud.”
The monster didn’t move for a few seconds, and then retracted his wings.
She darted around him, the air coming more easily now that she could see Jameson and the monster wasn’t in her personal space. Disbelief struck her in the chest as she carefully picked her way out of the herb garden, the green tickling the sides of her ankles and calves.
Holy hell. Hazel Bresh had stood up to a monster and come out the other side alive.
Smothering her giddy smile was almost impossible as she drew closer to the clay home. Even the dirt between her toes, her chains rattling, and the occasional rock stabbing the bottom of her feet couldn’t sour her triumph.
Jameson leaned a shoulder against one of the four beams that bracketed two stairs leading to the porch and home. He flashed her a grin.
“Next time you hop a fence, maybe you should think about your attire.”
Damn. It. Embarrassed, she brushed at the hem of her dress. In her mad dash for the house, she hadn’t even thought about what she was wearing. How much had the hawk man seen?
“That’s enough, niño,” a scratchy voice chastised.
Hazel flinched and searched the area for the person the voice belonged to. She flicked her gaze up to the roof. One never knew when dealing with Tainted where they’d be.
A hoarse laugh erupted from the house as the door swung open, warm light spilling onto the porch, haloing a short figure with a cane. “You’re wise to look up. Not many do. But those who live here know that death comes on silent wings.”
An apt description and no doubt accurate.
Jameson turned and faced the woman, his wings blocking her from Hazel’s gaze. “Abuela, how are you? You look as beautiful as the last time we visited.”
“And your still as much of a scoundrel as last time,” the woman’s deep voice crooned with affection and a heavy accent. “Now where’s mi hijo?”
Jameson jumped off the porch and stood to Hazel’s left. She openly studied her new owner. The short Latina woman shuffled to the edge of the porch, a lantern in one hand and cane in the other. She lifted the lantern into the air, and it highlighted a weathered face with deep grooves. The old woman was clearly aged, but from the fine bones in her nose, jaw, and cheeks, Hazel guessed she must have been a beauty when young. Her silver and white hair was pulled tightly back from her face and pinned into a round bun at the base of her neck.
The old woman hung the lantern on a hook and placed both of her hands over the top of her cane, hands that hosted black three-inch claws on each finger. She held up her right hand. “Come greet your abuelita.”
Hazel stiffened when the monster brushed past her and his wing whispered across the skin of her arm. She took a closer step to Jameson and ignored his questioning gaze. He didn’t get an explanation.
The monster jogged up the steps and pulled his grandmother into a hug, his huge frame dwarfing the woman. She looked like a little painted doll in his arms, except for the claws. She had never seen a doll with claws.
“Como estas, abuelita?” the monster said with affection.
His grandmother fired off a long explanation in Spanish that Hazel couldn’t quite follow—something about her back and aching in her fingers.
She kept her expression placid and sent a prayer of thanks to Mesa and her family. Her mama had been raised by a Hispanic family and was determined to teach her children even though most others didn’t speak another language. Since Hazel spent so much time at their home, she learned, too. Well, some. Her lips twitched. She’d learned some words from Mesa’s brothers that would have gotten her mouth washed out with soap.
Hazel shifted from foot to foot, her back and ankles beginning to ache. It had been a long time since she’d been as active as she’d been that day. Clearly, she was out of shape, which soured her mood. No doubt, working for the old woman would build her stamina in no time.
“So, what brings you here?” the woman asked, switching to English.
Blinking slowly, she focused back on the conversation.
“I’ve brought you a gift,” the monster said.
“Mi hijo, you didn’t have to do that,” the old woman crooned, patting her grandson on the chest.
The monster swept his arm out toward Hazel, and her toes curled when the sharp gaze of the old woman homed in on her once again. Old she might be, but daft she was not.
“Come,” the male called and lifted an arm to beckon her closer.
He did not just call her like a dog. Hazel puffed out a breath and slowly approached the porch. Losing her temper would get her nowhere. Escape tonight wouldn’t be possible. But if she was smart, she could charm the old woman and disappear like smoke in the coming days.
Pausing at the bottom stair, she tipped her head back to meet the appraising gaze of the grandmother.
“You’ve been complaining of severe aches and pains in your back and hands. I know you enjoy working in your garden, but you need to care for yourself, too, not just for others. She’s here to help lighten the loa
d.”
“Am I not capable?” she whispered.
Hazel sucked in her bottom lip and tried not to grin. Even monsters gave gifts with backhanded compliments.
“You are very capable, as everyone knows. I only wish to give you more time to do what you love.”
Very smooth.
“Thank you, mi hijo. Let’s take a look at what you’ve purchased for me.”
Purchased. There was that ugly word again.
“Come closer, girl.”
The rational part of her brain said not to get anywhere near those deadly claws, but she put one foot in front of the other and climbed the stairs to the porch. Hazel had considered herself short, but compared to the grandmother, she was positively tall. It would be generous to say the old woman stood as tall as her chin.
She stood firm as the old woman tipped her head back and stared down her nose at Hazel. Today, she might have been purchased, but she still had her pride. No one would make her feel inferior. The old woman’s lips pursed as she examined Hazel through squinty eyes.
“She’s awfully skinny,” she muttered.
Jameson sniggered, but Hazel managed to keep her expression placid. No one had ever called her skinny before. That was a first. It was obviously meant as criticism, but she’d hold it close to her heart like the compliment it was.
The old woman waved a hand at Hazel. “What good is she supposed to be? I don’t think I need her. She looks like she’s about to break.”
Her grandson pressed a kiss to his abuela’s cheek, and the old woman immediately softened.
The sucker.
“I know,” he murmured. “But it would ease my mind if she was here to help you.” A wicked smile broke out across his face as he considered Hazel. “And she’s a wily one. You’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge. I’m sure with your help and guidance, she’ll make an excellent addition to our society.”
What a damn suck-up. And his grandmother was eating it up. Unbelievable.
His abuela arched a brow and pinched his cheek, mindful of her claws. She pulled away, only leaving a red mark but not drawing blood. “You always did have a way with words. You get that from your father,” she grumped. “Charmed my hija right out the door.”