by Aral Bereux
‘Learn something new about you guys every day. Herd mentality, it’s impressive to watch.’ She handed him the knife. ‘I didn’t know you watchers were like that.’
His cigarette rested casually between his lips. He scowled at her comment as he opened the knife fully from its handle. He twirled it lightly in his hand, admiring its form.
‘The infamous knife. Many a story around a campfire about this baby.’
‘It’s kept me safe,’ she shrugged, and looked into the crowds.
The music dulled for the private dances. The low volume evoked the emotions of the lonely and the damned, and she wanted to join them.
Caden ran a finger across the new mark and he raised her eyes with his stare. ‘What happened?’
She swallowed the amber liquid in a quick gulp while she stole a glance at the private dancers curiously watching them. The screens failed to hide everything. Boss man was the predator she suspected.
Caden’s voice lowered. ‘Kill or be killed?’
She nodded.
He leaned across the table with the knife held out. Their hands touched with the exchange, and the blood spraying over the alleyway flooded into her mind.
‘Don’t feel guilty,’ he said, flicking his eyes to her face and squeezed her hand.
‘I feel guilty for not feeling guilty,’ she corrected. Her beer thumped heavily onto the table’s center and she withdrew her held hand, as the crowds grew inquisitive. They talked and whispered, exchanging stories, sitting close at their small table and now they had touched.
She snapped at the crowds. ‘He’s my brother!’
‘Somewhere to talk privately?’
Julianna nodded toward the rear of the stage. Her dressing room was quiet, away from prying eyes and flapping ears of the crowd’s intrusions and whispers.
Caden carried his drink a step behind, pushing through the crowd with his broad build as they whistled for his achievement with their star. His eyes fixated on her ass and when she turned, they quickly averted to the floor.
They reached the back curtain and she pulled it away, revealing the boss man standing angrily in front of her. His hands held his hips blocking her path.
‘Star, hun. What are you doing? You know better.’ He eyeballed Caden up and down. ‘A watcher, of all creatures?’
She spied the security. ‘He’s a friend, not a creature, and you know I don’t turn tricks. It’s okay. Call off the hounds. He’s good.’
‘Nothing good can come from a Master watcher.’
She dragged Caden from the questioning stares of the backstage performers. Boss man and Caden eyeballed each other in the narrow walkway while Caden slipped past, and he gave boss man a thin expression.
Incubus, right? Look at her that way again, and I’ll rip your freaking fangs out through your freaking nose!
Boss man raised his hands in defeat, and his quiet retreat escaped Julianna. Her hand left Caden’s grasp to lead him along the dirty, narrow corridor to a red side door instead.
The doof-doof-doof muffled after the door latched in its home and with a glance, Caden locked it from where he stood. He looked over his drink as he gulped another mouthful of beer, while she pulled pants over her knickers, tying the draw cord close to her tiny waist.
‘Shoulder looks banged up.’ He sat the bottle on the counter sprawled with makeup and jewelry, and slipped the lace sleeve from her shoulder. It moved easily and he cupped his hand over the burn. ‘Easy now,’ he hushed, and pulled her close when she flinched. ‘I’ll be gentle.’
She clutched her hair over her shoulder, needing something to hold onto. The sensation stretching from his hands to the wound made her whimper. Her eyes squeezed shut and she held her breath, counting the seconds until the pain moved away. She waited for it to disappear, his healing as agonizing as the laser’s delivery. Her body trembled under his touch and her eyes flashed open, looking over her shoulder, begging him to stop.
‘You know Isis sent me? He’s worried you’ve become reckless,’ he said quietly. He took his hands away and leaned against the counter, swiping up the drink and lighting another cigarette.
The mirror reflected her perfectly healed shoulder. Julianna reached for her sweater and pulled it over her head. The warmth of its fleece against her skin soothed her; the static electricity it brought to her hair didn’t. She slipped her mask away to wipe at the sweat lying softly under it, catching his attention with her big green eyes. His reflection in the mirror stared before breaking his awkward glance to take the last mouthful of beer.
‘Reckless?’ She smoothed the top of her hair in the mirror. Her image paled despite his presence. ‘He usually calls it irresponsible or thoughtless.’
He shrugged. ‘In the neighborhood, anyway. Don’t get pissy with me.’
‘So he’s angry again?’
Caden placed his cigarette between his lips and when he exhaled the smoke a seriousness moved across his face like a storm, in the mirror. He nodded. The dimly lit room matched his temperament perfectly.
‘You have no idea,’ he stated thinly.
‘No idea? Did he pace and straighten his tie?’ The humor made him smile. ‘I think I have an idea of Issy’s tantrums.’
‘Three patrols chased you today—’
‘You know about today, you and Issy must be close.’
He scowled. ‘Yesterday you narrowly escaped another, and the day before, Isis tells me, busted ribs that needed healing by two watchers. Not one – two. You didn’t get your fill of excitement at the camp?’ He was back to his pout.
A smirk crept over her face. ‘It’s been a busy week, I agree. So what’s the deal-i-o?’
His attention stole to a bag of white powder resting against the dressing room mirror. ‘He’s worried you have the taste for blood.’ His finger cut a line through the spilt powder and journeyed to the tip of his tongue. His furrowed brow creased some more. ‘Isis know you do this junk?’
‘He wouldn’t because I don’t,’ she said firmly.
Caden shrugged; he believed.
‘Taste for what blood? He thinks I’m that reckless?’
‘It’s a lot safer at my camp in-country. You may need the quiet soon.’ His glance lingered on her neck, swept down to her toes before returning to her face. His gaze pulled her into his mind as he took her in with all senses, finishing with the smell of her sweat mixed in with the exotic perfume she wore for all performances. She listened to his mind spinning. This wasn’t part of his promise. ‘I suspect you don’t quite know what I’m talking about yet.’
A worn chair propped against the wall. Julianna sat on its dilapidation to give Caden her full attention. The clutter of her bag and stage props threatened to topple if she leaned any farther. She reached her hand to steady the mess, returning it against the wall, and it gave some time away from his gaze. He was reading her again. She felt his invasion flooding through her. She hadn’t experienced such a focused intrusion since their first encounter. Blocking him triggered one of her dull headaches in the center of her temples. It was easier to lower her guard and hear his thoughts.
His voice crept in. Lay low for a while, he said.
Julianna nodded, ‘I like the city. Camping isn’t my style, and a lot of people depend on me.’
‘Your luck’s running out. They know where you are, they know who you are. Don’t fool yourself, Julianna…they know everything.’
‘You worried?’ she teased, but no laugh went with it. Her stomach sunk. Dread washed over her. She pushed the anxiety away; worried Caden might sense it too.
All the same, he could be close.
Surely not.
But the Militia guy was here; he might be here with him.
Stupid thought!
‘I’m a hard man to find, J Rae. I can’t keep you safe in these sectors with everyone watching you.’
‘I’m chasing things.’ The nagging feeling drew her attention to the wall behind her seat.
‘Chasing shadows.’ His fini
shed cigarette stub dropped into the empty bottle. He threw her a comms. ‘Deliver it to the safe house for me?’
The clock above the doorway told Julianna her curtain call was in ten minutes; the comms activated, giving her the same time in the corner of its screen. She moved her finger along the bottom to shut it down.
‘Or we could deliver it together and you ride out with me afterwards.’ Caden stepped into her space to rest his hands on her forearms. His solid touch turned into a caress, gently stroking them.
‘Caden, I can’t.’
His caress brought them close. Cocking his head boyishly to one side to lower his gaze, he spoke quietly. ‘All the mod cons of nature…running river, warm tent, warm bed.’ His lips nipped gently at hers. The dampness lingered from his drink. She stayed close. The taste of his cigarette and the smell of his scent made her desperate to follow him.
‘I really can’t,’ she whispered.
‘Sure you won’t?’ He nipped her bottom lip again. ‘Could use the company for sniper duty. Heard you were good—’
She kissed him back, the friendly nipping turning into a lingering kiss, her mind scrambled as his fingers stretched around her waist in his seduction.
Pulling away gently, Julianna reluctantly smiled. The longer Caden locked her into his gaze, the harder Julianna found it to refuse. She thought of the last watcher she kissed. Taris didn’t end so well.
Why can I feel Taz so close beside me?
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I can’t.’ The thought lingered into her words.
The door swung open. ‘Bloodlust, headaches, twitching. Find me when you want some help with that. Hate to see a pretty girl go wild.’
Her mouth dropped at the comment usually reserved for full-bloods, something she was certain she wasn’t. He left without the sound of a footstep, walking lightly, and the door closed as though a breeze had taken it. Julianna wiped her lip. Isis had sent him in good faith – maybe blind faith – and now the man she had thought about every waking minute since their meeting, had walked out the door.
Good luck. You’ll need it. His whisper echoed inside her still mind.
She studied the comms weighing heavily in her hands. The smooth glass reflected her image. The information Caden trusted her with, would delight Isis. It was the third for the day, and she hoped this would win her a warm shower and night off. Julianna placed it with the other comms’ in her delivery satchel. All bets were off if she didn’t deliver this one safely, and a pending sense of doom loomed as thick as death itself. She returned to the thin wall again.
‘Star, you’re back on.’
She turned around, dragged to reality. One of her support dancers stood in the doorway.
‘I don’t wanna’ go back on.’ She felt her garter. Caden’s touch still lingered over her leg and she pulled out the five he had left behind, bringing it to her nose, smelling it, and closing her eyes as its scent travelled through her.
‘If you want more of that and not the ass, you need your booty on stage, hun. Boss man is calling for you.’
Julianna folded the note and was surprised to see EAST NOT WEST thickly written. Nothing more, nothing less; she turned it over to look at the other side.
‘Hun, he’s calling!’
She looked up, stunned at her name yelled from the long corridor.
‘Sure thing,’ she said. ‘Be right out.’
She tucked the note between the comms. Once the night was done she’d move them into her back pocket. It was too risky in a bag in case of looters. She reluctantly pushed the warm clothes she had dressed in over her head and followed the girl out to the space behind the curtains, tying her mask into place. Boss man waited for her, not looking pleased.
She held out her arms while glitter dust sprinkled over her from a height. Her boss flicked more across her breasts and adjusted her so they sat perky.
‘Tape please!’ he yelled, and she rolled her eyes.
A young boy with no bloodlines ran to his aid, holding the tape. Hands skimmed under her top and the stretch of tape sticking to her skin pinched, as it held her in place. She asked for water and quickly received one, a few deep gulps, and she handed the half-empty bottle back to tape boy, smiling at him. If he knew she was a norm, an uninitiated barely half-caste watcher who was unwilling to become one of them, to become like Caden, he’d piss himself with disappointment.
‘You’re up, Star,’ one of her dancers said and the music began.
Julianna walked to the stage entrance. For the first time in a long time, her stomach knotted and her throat closed. Her feet felt slow and heavy as she pranced to the front of the curtain to latch herself in a loop on the pole, charming the audience again. The feeling from the dressing room stayed. The familiar presence lurked.
The men applauded and wolf-whistles bounced against the walls as she held herself upside down on the pole. She edged slowly toward the stage floor – and then the pit of her stomach threatened to heave as it did in the dressing room.
Taris, in his uniform, looked stunning, with his blonde hair carefully groomed to the side and his five o’clock shadow overly trimmed to an inch of its life. His cool stare greeted her from the very table where Caden had sat. The man leaning into his ear was the walker from earlier, and he leered from below his lowered head. Caden was right about one thing: Militia liked to arrest their Rebels. This Militia chased payback and payback was her super bitch tonight. Was he aware of the promotion he’d receive after this arrest? She thought so, hell yes indeed.
Men in suits raised their heads for a token glance. One watched with dark eyes, eyes of a watcher, but she sensed more. Most were casual in their approach, flying low even when they were ready to pounce, keeping their prey off-guard. This one was stuck in time, too formal. She had neglected him earlier, Caden stealing her attention. The watcher chilled her from her neck to her toes. Julianna felt his abilities reeling her in.
Her eyes darted to the center table. Taris returned with his acknowledgement and tapped his gold watch. Tonight she had two watchers, one in heat and one who was severely pissed off. Which would she choose?
Her hands trembled against the metal and slipped with her sweat. Julianna stole a look at the table where Taris sat outstretched in his seat, his legs crossed, enjoying her show far too much. His eyes met hers confidently again. His heartbeat, his senses of smell, taste, and noise all overwhelmed her as she tuned into their bond. It happened only when they were close, but their unwanted closeness was becoming more and more frequent, and she was learning their ritual bond from their engagement was becoming a large and looming problem in her life. It made her an easy target to track and this week he was working hard at his hunting game. Between the bond and CCTV, Julianna considered herself now officially screwed.
The crowds grew louder and the dog in heat moved closer. She led Taris’s gaze to the man sitting in the corner, and when he realized the situation, chaos broke loose.
She swung the pole again, bringing herself close to the stage’s edge. Taris nodded to the man sitting, now trying to stand. His seat stuck to his legs like glue and with every struggled move, he sent his table tilting and drinks tumbling. Unable to maneuver from his seat no matter the chants he cursed, the watcher knocked the last standing drink and beer poured into his lap, staining his crotch. Laughter roared across the club, drowning the music with its echo.
Everyone focused on the new entertainment and away from Julianna, including Taris and his company. The tables beside him shared their hysteria as they pointed their fingers at the joke in the seat caked in beer and ash, and Taris lapped it up. Lapped it up like the narcissistic animal that he was. She’d dealt with the first problem. Taris wouldn’t humor the interruptions tonight. Not this time.
She smiled.
He returned his gaze to the stage.
Julianna Rae was gone.
* * * *
The moon slipped behind a low cloud and she stumbled over an old wooden crate in the center of the alleyway.
Julianna hurried to reach her bike. Parking it to the back to avoid the looters seemed a good idea at the time, but now, as she jumped the awkward pile of rubbish in front of her, she regretted the simple plan. The comms in her back pocket clumsily collided with each other on her jump and their sound resonated more in the style of fragile glass screens breaking. She overstepped a puddle and the glass chinked again. She prayed that it wasn’t Caden’s as she checked over her shoulder to see if she was still alone.
Julianna’s bike was in reach under the dim flicker of a fire escape light. It winked its fluorescent beam at her. She sprinted the last thirty meters and her breath hung on the air with the curse she uttered. Last time, she found her bike racked with no wheels and it had taken three days to track another set. Sourcing anything in the New World Order was difficult, finding bike parts near impossible. Factories closing across the city, unable to compete in an economy driven with a universal dollar, made it impossible to source anything of a mechanical nature. There were simply no free factories left to produce commodities.
The alleyway widened and puddles splashed underfoot as she galloped. She needed to hurry. Her paranoia sensed him closing in. She had no ability to block his attempts, no way to cut the invisible rope tethering her to his pull, and she cursed the moment she’d given herself to him out of fear. The songs she sang worked on the younger, more inexperienced watchers in the club. The alcohol she drank would dull others. Taris always found a way around her attempts to block their connection.
Just get to the safe house. We’re all good at the safe house. Why didn’t I say, ‘Yes, Caden, wouldn’t that be a trip’?
She reached her bike. The bass of the music pumped through the thick walls as she straddled it; she hoped the boss man wouldn’t do her out a night’s pay for leaving early. She kicked the stand and the bike bounced down as she turned the key mid-action.
It refused to turn over.
Trying again, she didn’t hear the others lurking, covered in long shadows created from the tall buildings. She lowered the kickstand quickly and crouched beside the engine, cursing what she saw.