Tala

by Adrianna Morgan

  Layla sighed. “Look, you already know what happened. Can’t we just get this over with?”

  The campus officer looked at his partner. “Sorry, we have to ask you.” He cleared his throat. “Where were you around eight pm last night?’”

  Layla moved to the empty seat in front of Cantrell desk suddenly tired. The officer near her jumped, putting his hand on the back of his hip for a second. Probably grabbing his gun, she thought, and then raised her hands. “Just sitting.”

  The officer behind Cantrell’s desk nodded and the officer near her visibly relaxed.

  “Look, can I just tell you what happened?” She asked, tired.

  The officer remained still for a moment, and then nodded.

  Layla sighed. “I went home after work, took some painkillers and was lying in bed when my neighbor knocked on my door.” She paused, “Actually I was in my boyfriend’s apartment, because I was mugged a few days ago in mine.” She indicated her bandaged arms, noticing the look that the two men passed between them, and then looked down at her hands.

  “Anyway, my neighbor, Tami, was screaming all kinds of shit—I mean, crap to me and I snapped.” She took a deep breath before looking up at the officers. “I didn’t hurt her, I mean, I wanted to but I didn’t! I don’t know what she said she saw, but I didn’t touch her.”

  Officer Humphries looked at her curiously before Officer Bynum broke in. “Look, Layla,” he said angrily, “We are trying to help you here and you’re giving us nothing.” He squared his shoulders as she looked up at him. “We are not here to talk about your neighbor or what fight you had between you last night. We are talking about what you did. At eight-seventeen pm. Alone.”

  Layla looked up at him. “What are you talking about?

  Officer Bynum rolled his eyes as he looked at her. “Layla, we have you on tape.”

  She stared at him in confusion. “I—I don’t understand—.”

  Officer Bynum pushed a tape into the portable machine sitting on the corner of Cantrell’s desk. Layla had been so focused on the men in the room, she hadn’t even seen it. The screen flickered and Layla gasped as she saw her face looking back at her. Her black and white image with long straight light hair strolled into the administration building, into the bursar’s office and left carrying a bank pouch that looked to be filled with money from a safe that now stood empty.

  Officer Humphries stood up and shut the tape off as Officer Bynum gathered Layla’s arms behind her back. “You are under arrest for grand theft.”

  *

  Layla looked at the black smudges on her hands. She sat with her back straight against the wall, staring at the ceiling and hoping that none of the women in the holding cell decided they didn’t like her. She felt the cold of the room and the metal bench seep into her bones and her teeth chattered, although she knew it was more than the frigid temperature. She rubbed her fingers together, her eyes scanning the ceiling tiles, her thoughts on the video she saw. It was her face and her body. The only thing that didn’t match up was the hair. But that was easily explained. She was wearing a wig. At least that’s what the police told her.

  She took a deep breath as she felt the panic start to sink in. She was in deep shit. She wondered how many people went to jail each year for crimes they did not commit. She was about to be one of them. She looked around at the sterile cell. The stark gray walls and metal bars did nothing to comfort her; in fact, it made her realize just how dire her predicament was.

  She thought of her friends at work. They all suspected her of being a thief. She was led out of Cantrell’s office in handcuffs. There was no way to hide from that. She had tried to hold her head high but the shame was too great and she’d felt the tears falling down her face. She’d seen the look in Shawna’s eyes when her friend finally made eye contact before looking away. Embarrassment burned her cheeks and she refused to look at anyone else. She was marched to a waiting car and escorted off campus to the police station where she was further humiliated; her photo snapped and her fingerprints taken.

  A large woman sat next to her and Layla silently recoiled at the stench that rolled off the inebriated woman. She looked at Layla through bleary eyes and burped, the scent attacking Layla’s sensitive nose buds. She sat silently and willed herself further into the brick wall, hoping the moment would pass without incident. She looked around. There were a few women in the cell; most of them were older, some drunk, others scantily clothed. One woman stood near the toilet in the back, the sounds of her retching roiling Layla stomach. The smell of bile mixed with undigested food as well as unwashed bodies, sex, and alcohol filled her nostrils until she wanted to gag. She had to get out before she went insane, she thought, almost wild. She’d made a call to Brett’s apartment to his answering machine, and she hoped he’d get her message soon.

  Her thoughts went back to the video. She knew who it was. The long blonde hair was a dead giveaway. Suzette wanted her to know, just as she wanted her to be blamed. But why would Suzette want to ruin her? She hadn’t done anything and she still had time to give Suzette her answer. She could feel her control slipping as it had when she’d confronted Tami and she clenched her fist to calm herself. She couldn’t lose control here. She practiced breathing and slowly felt her animal come under control. It was difficult, but she managed to subdue the rage that was building within her. Now, she did the only thing she could do; wait.

  Two hours later, Layla sat in the parking lot of the police station, her head between her legs as Brett rubbed her back. Her normally olive skin was pale and she could feel the contents of her stomach move again. Brett held the bag steady as Layla threw up and she looked up at him tearfully as she wiped her mouth with the hem of her shirt.

  Brett smiled reassuringly before crumpling up the bag and tossing it in the nearest trashcan. He walked back to the car and hugged her. Layla held him close. Her arms were still bruised and the hard squeeze made them hurt but she didn’t care. She wanted to be as close to him as possible. She released him, watching his strong hands as he started the car and pulled away from the glare of the police station. In no time, they reached the apartment building and Layla rushed inside Brett’s apartment. He followed her as she ran to the shower, barely kicking off her shoes before she stepped under the spray fully clothed. He stripped naked and joined her, pulling her into his arms again as she sat in the corner of the tub and cried.

  Finally she pulled her head up, the water now warm as it rained down. “It was Suzette,” she sniffed.

  Brett nodded.

  “Suzette framed me! She stole that money and made herself look like me!”

  Brett nodded again. He was well versed in the ways of Suzette and he knew that framing Layla was not beneath her. And if he knew Suzette at all—which he did—she wasn’t done playing Layla just yet. He still held Layla against him and he felt an overwhelming urge to protect her. To make sure Suzette paid. Not just for what she did to him, but now what she did to Layla. Oh, she was going to pay.

  Layla struggled to remove her wet shirt and he reluctantly moved away to help her. Her jeans were another matter, the wet material stuck to her leg like glue and it took an enormous amount of shimmying and wiggling before the fabric slid from her legs. He moved behind her to give her more room, and snuggled her between his thighs. He willed his erection to behave. He was supposed to be comforting her, not ready to jump her bones. She wiggled again to get comfortable then stopped as she butt came into contact with his hard-on. He sighed. He deserved to get whatever was coming to him right now. He tensed slightly waiting for her to say something, and then grunted in surprise as her she twisted and her arms looped around his neck. She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him. He could feel the force of her hurt behind her kiss. It was hard and full of anger as her lips ground against his, forcing his teeth against the tender flesh. He knew her lips would be sore and swollen in the morning, but for now, he let her use him to get rid of her rage.

  When Layla awoke the next morning, her lip
s were swollen and bruised and her arms hurt more than ever, but she felt deliciously happy. For a split moment there was no Suzette wreaking havoc with her life; there was no mysterious Were trying to kill her, and no arrest. It was simply her and Brett lying naked on the bed in his apartment. Then reality crashed and she groaned. She had to find Martin. She needed to talk to him. She looked over at Brett. He was wide awake and staring at the ceiling like a man contemplating death. She sighed and felt his eyes on her.

  “Hey sleepyhead,” he rolled over to her and pulled her on top of him. He placed a quick kiss to her forehead, the look of despair gone from his face.

  “Hey,” she whispered back. “Everything okay?”

  He smiled at her. “Yeah,” he rubbed her back. “Everything is fine. Everything will be fine.”

  Layla saw a flash of something in his eyes before he smiled at her, a quick toothy grin designed to ease her fears and put her mind at rest.

  He held her a bit tighter and she sensed the change in his mood.

  “Okay seriously, what is it?” She asked, lifting her head and staring into his green eyes.

  He hesitated and Layla could see the war behind his eyes.

  “We’ll figure out how to deal with Suzette,” she whispered. “I’m going to talk to Martin about her and we’ll figure out how to stop her.”

  Brett groaned. “It’s not about Suzette,” he said and then stopped. He realized he didn’t know how to tell her. He wanted to be able to say to her, hey, I have the same powers as you, but as he looked into her eyes and saw the trust brimming in her he felt like the worst kind of jerk. He knew she was going to hate him and he knew he couldn’t stand that. Shit! He was falling in love with her. He closed his eyes, breaking contact with hers and took a deep steadying breath. All it took were a couple of words and everything would be over in a few minutes. She would either love him or hate him and he had a feeling which one she would choose.

  Layla held her breath as Brett hesitated. She knew what he was going to say was important, but she didn’t know if it was going to break her heart or not. Regardless, she was determined not to cry. If Brett decided that she was too much trouble to deal with, then she would simply walk away. Broken heart be damned.

  “Layla,” he began, and then stopped as her cell phone starting buzzing.

  Layla groaned. Damn! He had been so close. She looked at the caller ID, surprised and happy to see Martin’s number. She flipped the phone open.

  “Hello?”

  She felt the bed shift and looked over to see Brett rising naked from the tangled sheets. Her cheeks darkened as she remembered what she’d done to him the night before and she had to ask Martin to repeat his statement. She could feel the tension in Brett as he paced, her thoughts partially focused on Martin. It was almost scary how in tune her body was to his. She could feel so much of him, his thoughts, his desires and his fears. She knew that he was afraid for her. She was afraid herself and right now she counted herself lucky that they were no longer sharing the same dreams.

  She hesitantly mentioned her run in with the local police as well as Suzette’s threats and those of her unknown attacker. She listened as Martin cautioned her to be careful and made plans to contact her in a few days. He was out of town dealing with another young Were and he wanted to make sure it was handled properly. She agreed to try and stay out of trouble and she hoped she was able to do that. She hung up the phone and turned to see her boyfriend staring at the wall again. It was a little disconcerting, especially when he kept reassuring her of her safety.

  “Brett?” She walked over and put her hands on his shoulders.

  Brett smiled and held onto her fingers, covering her smaller hands with his.

  “You sure you okay?”

  “Yeah,” he grinned, “Just kinda bummed about all this bullshit.” He shrugged and turned to face her. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this crap. You’ve had your whole life as a normal person and in less than a month your life has been one big mess because of me and the damn Weres.”

  “Not true,” Layla said softly, “I’ve been dealing with this mess since I was ten years old and I think I finally have it down.” She smiled at him. “At least, now I know some of the major players in the game and how to fight back.” She looked at her bruised arms. “Well, in theory.”

  Brett kissed her cheek. “Baby, I am so sorry about all this. I know it sucks but you are so strong right now that you are beyond beautiful.” He kissed her again, this time his lips moved to her nose, then her brow, and finally her forehead.

  Layla leaned into his touch. Right now, she needed him more than ever if she was going to figure this entire thing out. She needed to understand her powers and how she fit into the war. Why everyone was going out of their way to get her onto their side or to promise to stay neutral. And the simple answer of her parentage could not be all. No, she thought, there was something that they were not telling her and she was determined to find out. She vowed to grill Martin when she met him later and hopefully she would be able to get some answers.

  Brett took a deep breath and then pushed her gently away from him. “Layla, I have something to tell you,” he said gently.

  Layla smiled, “Okay.”

  He stared into her eyes. “I have been trying to say this for a while, but I just didn’t know how to tell you.” He squeezed her shoulders lightly. “Please tell me that you’ll forgive me and that you won’t hold this against me?”

  “I promise,” Layla said before releasing a tense breath. It was moments like these when you got the best news on earth or the news that broke your heart. She steeled herself, waiting for Brett to either tell her he loved her or that they were breaking up.

  “Remember when I told you that Suzette left me for dead in a motel room?”

  Layla nodded. It was only a few days ago when she was in the hospital, but it still hurt that her boyfriend had fucked her arch nemesis. “Yeah, I remember. And you healed.”

  He looked at her. “I didn’t simply heal. You can’t simply heal from a Weres bite. You either turn or you die.”

  Layla gaped at him, her mouth hanging open. “You’re a Were?!”

  Brett shook his head. “No, I’m not. But,” he added before she could interrupt, “I have all the powers of a Were.”

  Layla shook her head, confused. “Okay, I know I don’t have all the rules down, but if you have all the powers of a Were, then you’re a Were.”

  Brett shook his head again. “I can’t transform. I don’t have the gene. In order to be a Were you have to be a descendent of the original Weres. I’m Native American but I’m not a part of Mai-coh’s lineage.”

  Layla raised her hands in confusion. “Okay, now I really don’t get it. If you don’t have the genes and you can’t transform, how do you have the powers?”

  Brett smiled wryly. “When Suzette left me to die, someone found me and healed me.”

  Layla’s eyes widened. “Who?”

  Brett sighed. “Mai-coh. Your father.”

  Chapter 7

  Layla stared at Brett. “You met my father?”

  He gazed back at her, his eyes filled with something that almost looked like hurt. “Yes.”

  She took a deep breath, barely able to contain her excitement. “You met my father.”

  Brett nodded. “Yes.”

  “So you know where he is. You know where to find him. We can find him and he can help us.” She walked around the room then whirled to face him.

  Brett sighed. “Yes and no.”

  Layla paused, “What do you mean, yes and no?

  Brett looked at Layla sadly. “Layla, I don’t know where Mai-coh is. I can tell if he’s close because I share a blood link with him. But I can’t point at a map and say he’s here. It doesn’t work that way.”

  Layla growled in frustration. Nothing was ever easy. When she finally had a way to find her father, it didn’t pan out. She was getting tired of the dead ends. And the secrets. “Wait. What do you mean, you share
a blood link?”

  Brett sat back down on the edge of the bed. “When you father saved me, he had to give me blood. Suzette had ripped my throat and I was bleeding to death. He gave me his blood. Even though I am not of his line, his blood was still powerful enough that it gave me my powers. I can do everything a Were can, except Transform.” He smiled wryly. “But I look at that as an advantage. It helps to be underestimated in a fight.” He shrugged. “The other fighter gets careless and they lose.”

  Layla stared at him again. “You’ve fought Weres?” She asked incredulously.

  Brett shrugged again. “Only the ones I have to.” In order to get to Suzette, he added silently. He felt the bed sag as Layla joined him and he looked over at her. She sat at the edge of the big bed, her hazel eyes glazed as if torn between tears and excitement. Her golden skin glowed with the light of the morning sun which also highlighted her hair. She was the spitting image of her father, he thought, her lineage unmistakable. He wondered how it had escaped him that she was related to Mai-coh. She turned towards him and he felt his heart twist under her heavy, thoughtful gaze. God, he wanted her. But he knew that this was probably the last time they would be together. When she found out what he really did for a living, it would be the end of them forever. This he knew.

  Layla watched the play of emotions across Brett’s face. He was still hiding something from her. In the space of two days, she’d learned more about him than in a month. She thought back to how much her life had changed. She used to worry about being able to finish a paper or getting enough work hours to cover her bills and the occasional concert ticket. Now, papers be damned and she would probably never go to another concert again. She had other things to be concerned about. Namely, her life. She imagined herself at a concert and losing control. Talk about ‘worst case scenario’ she thought.

  She knew realistically that if she wanted, she could knock out the few papers she had to do, finish up the semester and only have a semester left in order to get her degree. Then she could come back, finish it and finally graduate. She scoffed. There was no more college. No ‘last semester’. She was done, out. All because of her blood. And Brett was lying to her. She believed the whole Mai-coh story, but there was more to it. If it were that simple, he wouldn’t have had such a hard time trying to explain it to her. She knew there was more to his story.