by Amos Cassidy
Rose sniffed, looking up at the owner with moist eyes. “I just can’t believe this. All we want to do is enjoy a meal together. Why does it have to be so hard?”
Figaro looked momentarily shocked. Then his brow creased in a frown. He looked down at the maitre’d. “Is this true?” His tone was edged with steel.
“No! I-I…they don’t have a reservation.” He blurted.
Figaro looked around the room. “There are many free tables. Please take our customer’s coats.”
The maitre’d looked momentarily taken aback. But then, schooling his face into an appropriately welcoming smile, he offered to take their coats. Rose had to admit, he was good.
“We will speak of this later,” Figaro said softly to the maitre’d before he scuttled away to get them some menus. “Please follow me.” Figaro led them to a table with a view from the window. “Our most popular table. Please accept my apologies on behalf of my staff. I assure you, Stephan will be reprimanded.”
Rose smiled warmly up at him. “Thank you.”
He returned the smile. “You remind me very much of my daughter, Rosa.”
“Is she gay too?” Thistle asked innocently.
Rose kicked her under the table.
“Actually, yes she is.” Figaro grinned and the expression transformed his ruggedly handsome face into a boyish one.
Thistle kicked Rose back under the table.
Figaro continued. “She is a beautiful, accomplished woman and I am extremely proud of her. It is people like my Rosa and you that help in the struggle against the many narrow minded bigots out there.” He paused as Stephan returned with the menus and handed them to the women. “First drinks are on the house,” he instructed Stephan before giving them an adorable little bow of the head and leaving them to it.
It was almost midnight when they stepped back into the chilly night. The meal had not disappointed and whatever Figaro had said to Stephan seemed to have done the job. He had almost bent over backwards to please them. All in all it had been a very successful evening.
Linking arms they strode in search of the nearest bus stop.
“That spinach and ricotta cannelloni was to die for.” Thistle licked her lips as if she could still taste the rich sauces.
“And who thought that bread sticks could taste so good.” Rose added.
Thistle grinned mischievously. “But the sweetest thing was Stephan’s face after his little chat with Figaro.”
“I almost felt sorry for him. He looked like he was about to keel over.”
They giggled, heels clip clopping on the pavement.
Rose frowned as she felt Thistle’s arm tense perceptively against hers. She threw her a questioning glance but Thistle seemed unaware of the spasm. Her stride had lengthened slightly though and Rose automatically matched it.
“You okay?” Rose asked.
Thistle shot her a tight smile. “Fine, hun.” She slipped her phone out of her pocket and fiddled with it without looking at the screen.
Rose felt a sharp stab of alarm. Something was wrong.
The phone was gone and Thistle had tightened her grip on Rose’s arm.
Rose could see a sparsely lit car park up ahead, the office building which it belonged to was shut tight and looked as dark as a tomb. They were headed toward it. Alarm bells were going off inside Rose’s head. The bus stop was in the opposite direction, two streets across. What was Thistle doing? For a split second the terrible idea that Thistle might want a midnight snack…on her, popped into her head, but she quickly dismissed it. She trusted Thistle. And just as she intuitively knew something was wrong, she knew that Thistle wouldn’t hurt her. She allowed herself to be led, trusting that Thistle had her reasons.
As they stepped into the car park, Thistle pushed Rose behind her spinning on her heel to face the direction in which they had come.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
Rose was momentarily thrown, thinking that Thistle was addressing her. But her misapprehension was quickly corrected when a figure stepped out of the shadows. Thistle’s strange behaviour and her own instinctive alarm suddenly made perfect sense.
He was tall and stocky, maybe six-two, and at least sixteen stone of muscle. His face was wreathed in shadows and framed by a mop of shaggy, dirty looking hair. He raised his head slightly, turning it this way and that as if sniffing the air. Rose caught the wet glint of his eyes.
Thistle dropped into a crouch. “Stay behind me,” she whispered urgently.
“Who is he?”
Thistle shook her head impatiently. “Leave now. This is not your territory.” She commanded.
Could the man be another vampire? Rose strained to make out his features and then he spoke. His voice was dry and raspy and his words carried no inflection.
“Objective in sight.” His eyes were fixed on Rose. The shadows shifted and two more figures joined him, equally as large, equally as lethal looking.
“Shit.” Thistle cursed softly. “I thought it was just the one, but it looks like we were herded here. I don’t think I can take all three. You think you can muster up some fireworks?”
“Dunno, but now’s the time to find out right?” She dropped into a defensive crouch allowing the adrenaline to flood through her body. “He was staring right at me when he said ‘objective in sight’.” She licked her lips nervously.
“I know.” Thistle hadn’t taken her eyes of the trio of men. She tensed as they all took a simultaneous step forward. “If you want her you’re going to have to go through me and that won’t be pleasant for either of us. Just turn around and walk away.” Her words sounded unusually thick and then Rose realised why. Thistle was in fang mode.
The men froze for a moment as if contemplating the words. Then, dismissing the warning, they took another step toward them. The light from the car park lamps pushed away the shadows and Rose gasped. Each man’s face was big and open and craggy, their nose’s wide and flat, lips thick and meaty. They looked so alike they had to be siblings. But the most shocking thing about them was their eyes. They seemed to glow orange in the light, their pupils were tiny pinpricks of black.
“Girl.” The ringleader spoke, and then everything went crazy.
Rose saw him leap toward them, saw his hands punch the ground and then they weren’t hands any more, they were paws and he was leaping in the air pushing himself off the ground with his powerful hunches. And his face was no longer human. He had a snout and pointy ears and fangs and…
“GET DOWN!” Thistle screamed.
Rose hit the dirt, her mind reeling, trying to assimilate what she was seeing, as she watched her friend leap into the air, as she saw vampire and wolf make contact.
Fuck! A werewolf! A fucking werewolf!
The werewolf fell backwards on impact and landed neatly on its paws shaking blood from its eyes. Thistle landed in a graceful crouch mere inches away from Rose. The coppery smell of blood filled the air. Rose tried to scrabble into a crouch, worried for her friend, wanting to get them out of there. She grasped Thistle’s arm, indicating that they should run.
Thistle shook her off. “We won’t get two feet.”
The werewolf growled, its eyes fixed intently on her.
Rose could see the neat claw marks across its snout. Glancing down she noted Thistle’s elongated razor-sharp nails.
In the commotion she had almost forgotten about the other two but she saw them now, two more huge wolves stepping forward to flank the first.
Shit, shit, shit!
The werewolves circled them, growls reverberating in the empty air.
“Rose, don’t make any sudden moves.” Thistle instructed around her fangs.
“Why do they want me?” Rose asked. Her tone was even despite her thumping heart. Her eyes tracked the wolves.
“I don’t know but all we need to do is stall until…”
The wolves obviously hadn’t gotten the memo and sprang in unison.
Rose raised her arms in the air to protect hers
elf from the massive jaws aimed at her head and gasped as a surge of heat exploded out of her skin. There was an anguished whimper, the heat vanished and then Thistle was pulling her, yelling at her to move. Disorientated she staggered to her feet, eyes widening as another pair of amber eyes hurtled toward her.
“Roll!” Thistle yelled and Rose ducked and dived. Close, so close. She felt the brush of its wiry pelt against her cheek. She was on her feet quickly and running back into the fray. Thistle whirled and slashed at the two remaining wolves holding their attention, her aim obviously to give Rose time to make a run for it. No way was she leaving Thistle to fight alone.
Thistle had just succeeded in driving back the wolves, earning herself a seconds respite when Rose skidded to a stop by her side. “Fuck’s sake, Rose, get out of here while you can!” The wolves were pacing back and forth. Bloody gashes decorated their snouts and sides, one had lost an ear. They were obviously exhausted but the determination in their glowing eyes was still fresh.
“I’m not leaving you. I can help.”
“Yeah, well unless you can incinerate another one of those things then I don’t see how.” She glanced at Rose expectantly.
Rose bit her bottom lip. “Don’t know how I did it in the first place.”
“Heads up they’re coming back for more,” Thistle warned before shoving her so hard in the chest that Rose found herself sailing backwards across the car park and skidding to a halt on her behind. She saw Thistle’s arms raised, saw the wolf’s jaws aiming for her friend’s throat, the other aimed at her side and then something equally big hit the wolf from the side, throwing off its trajectory. The second wolf was also hit and thrown off target. The saviours were two new wolves– one shining and golden, the other brown and sleek. The wolves rolled across the asphalt, tearing and snapping at each other.
“You okay?” Thistle was suddenly by her side helping her up. Her fangs were gone.
Rose opened and closed her mouth unable to formulate her thoughts.
“It’s okay, the cavalry has arrived.”
Two SUVs, tinted windows and all, screeched into the car park, blocking off her view of the battling wolves.
The doors were flung open and Raven leapt out of one vehicle followed by Kris. Damon flew out of the other.
Rose found herself blinking rapidly. “Okay, okay, will someone explain to me what the fuck is going on?”
And then, like the icing on the cake, Roman strolled out from behind the cars, dressed in nothing but his birthday suit and covered in blood. Their eyes met across the expanse of asphalt, his probing, hers stunned.
“I’m really sorry, Thistle, but I think I’m going to need to lie down.”
For the first and only time in her life, Rose fainted.
22.
THE GLASS BOX
Rose paced up and down the length of her cell. She had no idea how long she had been held here and no idea how much longer she would have to wait. In the however long it had been since she had been declared a captive, her feelings had graduated from bewilderment to anger. It was with some relief that she allowed this more focused emotion to take over in its mini-rampage through her system. How dare they treat her like this after everything that she had been through? After everything they knew she had been through? How could they treat her like a threat, a liar, when she had done nothing to deserve it? She allowed herself to feel the betrayal, the burning need to yell at someone, an urge she was going to satisfy as soon as somebody bloody gave her the opportunity!
She couldn’t take much more of this! The light above her flickered and she glanced up through the transparent ceiling of her prison directly into the glare of the single bright LED light. She was trapped in a bloody transparent box. It looked like glass but on tapping it she was pretty sure it was made of something else entirely. Who knew what the supernatural community had come up with? It was probably made of magic fairy dust or something. Whatever it was, it had to be porous enough to allow her to breathe because so far she hadn’t felt short of breath. She had searched for a hidden vent or pipe, which could be pumping oxygen, but as far as she could see there was nothing else in the cell aside from a single clean mattress. It looked clean but she hadn’t tried it out, finding no need to get comfortable. Hopefully she wouldn’t be staying much longer.
The sound of a door opening and closing brought her back to attention. Someone was coming. She strained to see into the darkness surrounding her prison. She walked right up to the wall, pressing her hands against it, then jumped back, yelping as a light came on, illuminating a strange figure on the other side.
“I am sorry. I did not intend to startle you.” The man spoke politely.
“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing but you need to let me out of here now!” she said through gritted teeth. “I’ve done nothing wrong and you know it. So open the fucking door!”
He frowned. “I am afraid I cannot do that.”
Rose walked back up to the glass, crooking her finger, beckoning him to come closer. He politely obliged. Placing her lips close to his ear though the glass she shouted, “WELL GET SOMEONE WHO CAN, YOU MORON!”
The man jumped back, clutching his ear and shaking his head.
“Rose, please!” Raven stepped into the light.
At the sight of him, Rose’s anger surged upward with fresh ferocity. “Fuck you!” she screamed. “I thought you were on my side. You said everything would be okay, you tricked me into this fucking cage!” She slammed her hands against the walls, venting her frustration. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe, she needed to get out. She needed to get out!
Her body was swiftly suffused with a molten warmth, her heart galloping as adrenaline flooded her system. She could get out, she would get out. Nothing could keep her trapped. Her hands on the wall began to glow, the veins starkly visible against her skin.
“Rose, stop! You need to calm down.” Raven approached the wall, placing his hands against hers through the glass. “Please, trust me. I would never hurt you. Please calm down.” He made eye contact and held her there as he talked her down.
A couple of minutes later and Rose stood slumped against the glass, exhausted.
“Interesting.” The other man spoke quietly
She wanted to tell him to shove it but found she didn’t have the energy.
“Rose? Rose, are you okay?” Raven asked. He sounded genuinely concerned.
Rose found her strength returning, her body seemed to be recharging itself. She nodded.
“Rose, this is Richard Silverman.”
“You’re all werewolves…” she whispered, “you and Roman and Kris… Damon and Harold…”
“Yes.” Raven said. “Richard is the Alpha of the werewolf pack.”
“Thistle is a vampire.”
“Yes.”
“And what am I?” She looked up and met his eyes.
There was a long pause.
“We don’t know.”
She closed her eyes, hanging her head.
“But I promise we’ll find out.”
“Why have you locked me up? You think I’m dangerous, don’t you?”
“That isn’t the reason.” For the first time since entering the room he looked uncomfortable.
Richard stepped forward. “Raven, please allow me.” He turned his attention to Rose. “Rose, I am delighted to meet you.”
She snorted derisively.
“I can understand your anger, but as you are an unregistered, and from the looks of it an unclassified supernatural being, we need to take precautions. Coupled with the fact that both a demon and rogue werewolves have made you a target within the space of a couple of days…well, I am sure a lady as intelligent as you can appreciate our position.”
“Don’t patronise me.”
“I assure you that-”
“Was not your intention,” she finished for him. “Yeah, I got that. So tell me what exactly is your intention?”
“Good question.”
“I’m full
of those, my being so intelligent.” She laid on the sarcasm.
Raven rubbed his face looking weary. “Rose, please. The sooner you cooperate, the sooner we can all go home.”
Home sounded great about now. “Okay, let’s get on with it.”
“Place your hands on the wall and don’t move.” Richard instructed.
Rose looked uncertain but followed the direction.
He held up a finger. “One moment.”
Rose resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
The cell was suddenly bathed in amber light.
“What the…?”
“Don’t remove your hands.” Raven warned.
“Why?”
“The surface of the wall is reading you. It will measure changes in your pulse and perspiration.”
“In other words, I’m in a large lie detector.”
Richard nodded. “It is, however, much more sophisticated than the average lie detector.”
“Okay, fire away. Let’s get this over with.” She was getting impatient again, and more than a little claustrophobic.
“What is your name?” Richard asked.
“Rose Carmichael.”
The amber light changed to green.
“What kind of supernatural being are you?”
“I don’t know, I already told you that.”
The light turned green again.
He nodded. “Good. When did you find out you had supernatural abilities?”
“Friday night when Thistle and I were attacked by that demon thingy and I killed it.”
Still green.
Richard nodded again. Thistle had filled him in on the events of the past few days. He was impressed and intrigued that Rose had been able to vanquish the demon without any training or actual knowledge of her powers. It now remained to be seen if this was actually the case.
“Why did the demon attack you?”
“I don’t know.”
Green.
“Why did the rogue wolf attack you?”
“I don’t know,” she repeated. This was getting ridiculous.