Tala

by Adrianna Morgan

  Layla recognized the old man's voice, and stared at her phone. "How did you get my number?" She asked. "I never gave you my number." She heard the chuckle in the background as the old man laughed.

  "Oh, I have my ways." The old man laughed again. "However, we need to meet as soon as possible; you need to get started on your training. I will be at your apartment in one hour. Be there and be ready."

  Layla hung up the phone already regretting having to leave Brett’s warm bed, but if she was to fulfill her destiny as Mai-coh's daughter, she needed to learn to fight. The only person willing to train her with the old man, and she knew that if the blonde ever attacked her again, only one of them was leaving alive. She reached over and picked up her jeans from the arm of the chair next to Brett's desk. Slipping into them she contemplated what would happen if she wasn't strong enough to beat Suzette.

  As Mai-coh's daughter, did she have some special power that no one was telling her about? Why was she so special? Did the warring factions think that her father would come to her aid? She didn't know if he would, he hadn't come to her aid when her mom was killed, why would now be any different?

  She walked into the kitchen, found a piece of paper and a pencil and wrote Brett a note before picking up the key and exiting the apartment. She had training to do. Walking to her apartment Layla had an overwhelming sense of being watched. She stopped, and turned slowly, her eyes searching for the source of her unease. Like before, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she knew that someone was watching her. Not sure if it was the old man or someone else, she quickly opened the door to her apartment, locking it carefully after she got inside. She yelped as she saw the old man sitting at her kitchen table, playing with a knife.

  "Rule number one, never show up late."

  Layla smiled as she rolled her eyes at the old man, "I wasn't late."

  He placed the knife on the table. "If you get there after the other person, then you're late."

  Layla dumped her purse onto the kitchen table and slipped off her flip-flops. "Let's get this over with." She rolled her shoulders, trying to imitate the warm-up exercises she’d seen in martial arts movies. "This is going to be just like that movie ‘Karate Kid’ right?" She asked.

  "What are you talking about?” Martin asked.

  Layla stared at him "Come on, you have got to be kidding. You have seen the ‘Karate Kid’ haven't you?" She shook her head at him. "Don't worry about it, just teach me how to kick ass."

  Martin stood up and walked over to her. "As a Were, you have to do more than just kick ass. You have to use all of your senses to fight whatever enemies may be coming at you. Some Weres have…gifts. Abilities that they can use to help them survive. Knowing how to kick ass won’t save you from a Were’s gifts." He sat on the couch, patting the spot next to him. "This is where we start."

  Layla sat on the couch next to him and sighed. "This is going to be so exciting," she said sarcastically.

  Martin ignored her. "The first thing we are going to do is teach you how to use your senses. We call this ‘Sensationism’. It allows you to use every aspect of your being in order to sense what is going on around you. Close your eyes." He instructed her.

  Layla closed her eyes as Martin continued talking. "I want you to listen to the sound of my voice," he told her. "And I want you to do everything exactly the way I tell you to. Understand?"

  Layla nodded.

  "The first thing we're going to do," he said, “Is see how well you can use each of your senses individually. We are going to start with your hearing. Your hearing is now heightened and as a result you can process more information than normal humans. Focus on your breathing. I want you to breathe in and out, and as you breathe, I want you to listen to the air as it leaves your lungs and then your mouth."

  Layla took a deep breath, feeling her chest cavity expand and then slowly let the breath out. Eyes closed, she concentrated simply on the sound of her breath escaping. What she'd hardly noticed before now trumpeted loudly in her ears. She listened to Martin's instructions, focusing now on her heartbeat. She could hear her heart’s double treble and the whoosh as her blood pushed through her arteries. It was amazing. She could even hear the insects droning outside in the flower garden.

  Without warning, Martin asked her to use her sense of smell, explaining to her how important it was for her to master this particular sense.

  "Every living creature has a unique scent,” he told her. "To a werewolf, your scent is like your fingerprint, it is distinctive. Take a deep breath," he instructed. "What do you smell?"

  Layla took another deep breath, feeling the air as it entered her nostrils, flowed through her nasal passages and landed on her tongue. She could literally taste the air. She smelled her coffee from earlier in the day, the perfume she’d sprayed on before work, the aftershave Martin wore and the smell of Brett on her skin.

  "Find one scent that interests you, and see if you can follow that scent. Try and see where that scent has been and where it will lead you."

  Layla focused on the spicy musk that belonged to Brett. Behind her closed eyelids his scent left an almost visible trail. The hues of red and orange and gray cut through the black and white photograph of the room in her mind. His scent colors flowed from her door to her kitchen to her couch and then finally back out the door. Layla's eyes popped open. She looked at Martin and grinned, "That was so cool!"

  Martin smiled at her excitement. "Your sense of hearing and your sense of smell are the two most important senses a werewolf has at their disposal.” He was surprised at how quickly she was learning Sensationism, but it wasn’t that farfetched. The majority of the female Weres were the most adept at this power, perhaps because of the female’s natural ability to sense intense emotions. He watched Layla practice. He would have to leave soon. He wanted to be sure he was gone before the young man came back. He could smell him all over Layla. He didn’t like it, mainly because he didn’t know who the young man was, both figuratively and literally. Or what he wanted with Layla. He wanted to warn her to be careful but he knew it would be out of place.

  “Your other senses are important as well,” he told her. “You can use your eyes to scan. It’s looking without really looking. You move your eyes along a plane of sight and allow your brain to subconsciously pick out what’s wrong. It’s faster and more accurate than trying to look at each individual object. And you’ve already probably figured out that the sense of taste is directly linked to the nose and your sense of smell.” He laughed. ‘It’s very hard to poison a Were, but our sense of smell has caused us to be tricked in the past into revealing our true nature.” Martin shrugged at Layla’s surprised look. “Take a poison and add it to a highly scented food, a Were won’t touch it because they can smell the poison, but if no other human can, then how can you?”

  “They still try to trick us like that?” She asked, worriedly.

  Martin fiddled with the handle of his knife. “No, the humans barely remember us. They think we are superstition and legend. It’s the other Weres you have to watch out for. It used to be a fair fight, Were to Were, but some are taking to following the humans and are using weapons.”

  “I thought you said Weres were immortal.”

  “For the most part, we are. Unlike werewolves in Europe, we can touch silver, we can withstand bullets, but enough bullets can slow you down so that another Were or a human can decapitate you or burn you. Regardless of how hard you are to kill, decapitation and burning always work. Except for Zombies.”

  Layla gasped, “Zombies are real?!”

  Martin laughed. “No, that was a joke.”

  Layla looked at him crossly, before smiling. He did have a sense of humor. She was starting to enjoy the weird relationship between her and Martin. It was almost like having a mean grandpa, but a grandpa just the same.

  Martin stood up slowly, "I think this is good enough for today." He walked towards the door before turning around. "You've done really well at using Sensationism, keep pr
acticing, the next time we meet I will teach you NightSight and Transformation.”

  "Martin," Layla asked. "One question. Am I using Sensationism if I can feel someone watching me?”

  Martin nodded, "Most times you are, yes. Especially being a Were.” His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

  Layla shook her head, "No reason, just for the past few days I felt as if someone's been watching me whenever I come home.”

  Martin tensed. "Layla, never doubt your senses. If you feel as if someone's watching you, then someone is watching you." He moved away from the door and stood next to the living room window and peered out, his eyes doing a quick Scan before he turned and looked at Layla. "This is a great opportunity to practice your skills," he said to her. "I want you to use your hearing and your sense of smell to see if you can pick up on this intruder."

  Layla nodded; her eyes wide as she realized the potential danger she may have been in. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and tried to remember what she’d felt, what she'd heard and what she’d smelled before she entered her apartment. Eyes closed, she concentrated, following her scent back out the door seeing her scent as a pathway leading out of her apartment. She paused outside the door, before picking up the faint traces of another Were. She watched the purples and blues of the scent trail flow over the railing of her apartment building and across the street to another building where the scent trail moved up the side and stopped on the roof in a corner hidden in shadows.

  She shuddered. She was definitely being watched. The scent was now extremely faint, but Layla wanted to find who was watching her. She took another deep breath opening her mouth slightly to allow the air to flow not only into her nostrils but also into her mouth. She found another trail. This trail lead right back to her apartment building; eyes closed, she followed it up the stairwell until it stopped, in front of Brett’s apartment.

  Layla opened her eyes, jumping up quickly.

  "What is it?" Martin asked.

  "Shit!" Layla paced her kitchen, "I think I may have put my boyfriend in danger. I think someone may have followed me to his apartment. Perhaps they think I stay there as well.” She frowned, a bit more disconcerted about how easily the word boyfriend has spilled from her lips.

  Martin relaxed, "Don't worry; I'm sure they have realized their mistake by now. Your boyfriend will be fine.”

  Layla continued pacing. She hoped. It would be her fault if something happened to Brett. After what had happened to her mom, she never wanted another human being to be hurt because of her and she was going to make sure of it.

  Martin placed a grandfatherly hand on Layla’s shoulder. "Layla, you'll be fine, he'll be fine. You have resources, you are Mai-coh’s daughter and you have me." He opened the door to leave. "Continue practicing, the more you practice the better you will get, the better you get, the stronger you are." He walked out the door without a glance.

  Layla settled back onto the couch, her eyes towards the door. Something was bothering her, something was not quite right. Today was the first time she had ever spent any time at Brett's apartment. So why would a Were have visited Brett’s apartment? It didn't make sense. Could they have tried to get in when she was asleep? Everything was starting to get confusing, nothing made sense. It bothered her that someone had been watching her and she wanted to find out who it was.

  The phone rang, startling Layla. "Hello?" She asked tiredly, rubbing her eyes as she slowly gained awareness.

  "Hey baby," Brett’s voice echoed through the phone. "You still up?"

  Layla smiled. "Not really, but we can hang out if you want."

  Brett chuckled. "Your place or mine?"

  "Definitely my place," Layla said, "I'm already here and already comfortable; you are definitely coming here."

  "I figured you'd say something like that," Brett said. "Open the door, I'm outside."

  Layla hopped off the couch and walked over to the door. She looked through the peephole, saw Brett's smiling face and opened the door. She allowed him to walk inside before she kissed him.

  Brett laughed at Layla's enthusiastic greeting. He kissed her back and pushed her against the wall as his tongue probed deeper into her mouth.

  Layla reached up, wrapped her hands in this thick black hair, and pulled his face close to hers.

  Brett broke off the kiss, his breathing hard and harsh in the quiet of the room. He rested his forehead lightly against hers and smiled, and Layla saw a flash of something that looked like regret in his eyes before it disappeared.

  He straightened, "I brought you something." He held up the bottle that Layla hadn't seen in his right hand. "I figured, we could drink our problems away, enjoy each other and just enjoy being together."

  "Oh baby,” Layla smiled. “That was so super sweet.” She took the bottle from him and walked towards the kitchen and placed the bottle in the refrigerator to chill. She opened the freezer and her face fell. “What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Nothing much.”

  “Good,” Layla closed the freezer. “We are having dinner here, you and I; because I have a ton of food I have to get rid of.”

  Brett shrugged, “I’m down for it.” He walked over to the kitchen and picked Layla up, swinging her over his shoulder as he walked toward her bedroom. “But right now we have better things to do.”

  Layla didn’t mind his Neanderthal tactics, in fact, she rather liked her point of view, she thought, turning her head to watch the tautness of his thighs and butt as he walked. He threw her into the bed and she laughed.

  Brett stood over her and resisted Layla’s attempts to pull him onto her. “We are going to take this slow,” he promised. “So relax; this is going to take some time.” Brett rolled Layla onto her stomach and straddled her hips as he slid his hands under her shirt. “We are going to start with a relaxing massage.”

  Layla groaned as his strong fingers made contact with her heated skin. He smoothed his palms over her back gently increasing the pressure, kneading out the kinks in her back. She arched her back, feeling him in every core of her being. The cool air hit her skin as he raised her shirt, forcing it over her head and tossing it to the side of her bed.

  Brett paused as he saw the marks on Layla’s back. They were very faint, but the white lines were still visible against the tan of her skin. He traced them with his fingers, ignoring Layla’s attempt to roll onto her back and cover them.

  “Shh,” he said, leaning forward and kissing each one. He knew that she had been attacked as a child; he’d seen it in her shared dreams. He didn’t know the extent of her injuries but he could see the scars now and he wondered how a child had been able to survive such an attack. He was appalled at Suzette’s cruelty. He caressed the marks gently, before rolling Layla on top of him.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  She shrugged awkwardly. “My house was broken into when I was ten and my mom was killed.” She shrugged again, “I got hurt, but at least I lived.”

  Brett felt the pain behind her nonchalant words. She was only a child when Suzette tried to take her but she was still strong enough to try to fight back and the wounds on her back were proof of her bravery.

  Layla sensed Brett’s change in mood. He was thinking about her scars, and she knew that he would inevitably have more questions. She leaned forward and kissed his neck, breathing in the scent of him. He responded immediately to her and pulled her into his arms, his lips seeking hers. Her eyes closed, she saw his scent trail and hers intermingling, creating a display of lights behind her closed lids.

  Her arousal heightened as the intensity of the show and the movements of his hand and tongue made her moan in ecstasy. It was too much. Her body felt as if it were going to explode. She felt a surge of power ripple through her body. It was only a matter of time before the animal trapped in her chest, in her blood, forced its way through, leaving her sated and satisfied. She tossed her head back, holding onto Brett’s arms, her journey taking her higher, into the space and plane of the gods. She saw
heaven in one brief instant before floating back to reality.

  *

  Layla stood in the Dean’s office, her hands primly in her lap. The dean sat behind his huge oak desk, his name plate neatly in front of the folder that held her life. He read her statement and then that of her professor. He looked up at her, his eyes hooded. “He claims you were disrespectful and a distraction?”

  Layla nodded. “Yes sir. But I tried to explain to him that it was another student with the cell phone.”

  “Hmm.” He looked back at the sheet of paper, “And you are constantly late to class.”

  “I’ve been late twice, and both times it was because I left work late.”

  He looked down at her sheet. “And you work—?”

  “Administration, sir. With Mrs. Cantrell.”

  He sighed, “Ah yes, Cantrell.” He closed her folder. “Ms. Donovan, you are a senior. So far, we’ve not had an issue with you.” Layla held her breath as he continued. “You apparently need this class to remain a full time student and you need to remain a full time student to maintain your work study grant. Due to the fact that you have worked for the College for almost six years and you are about to graduate, I see no reason why you cannot get your act together and get through this class. Beth will sign your papers on the way out.”

  Layla sat on the edge of her seat. “I’m back in?” she asked excitedly.

  The Dean removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yes, you’re back in.”

  Layla squealed before remembering her environment and sobered. “Thank you sir,” she said, reaching across and shaking his hand.

  “Ms. Donovan,” he said as she neared the door.

  “Yes?”

  “You only have a few months left of school. After that, you don’t have to see Professor Hart until graduation. Get through the class. Do whatever it is that you must, but simply get through the class. Do you understand?”

  Layla nodded. “Yes sir.” She knew what he was trying to say. Get there on time, sit down and shut the hell up. This was her last chance.