by Amy Braun
I finished cleaning my tables and went to get Mystery Man’s food, now that he’d finally ordered. Even Carrie was starting to wonder why he’d been here for so long. I laughed to myself. A smoking hot guy was creeping Carrie out. Wonders never ceased.
“Am I amusing you?”
I jumped at the deep, rolling sound of his voice. I’d forgotten I was walking over here and looking directly at him. I wondered if this was what zombies felt like.
“Sorry, I was thinking about something else,” I said. It was half true.
His intoxicating blue eyes flicked to the plates in my hand. “Clearly.”
I frowned, then dropped the plates in front of him and turned around.
Mystery Man cleared his throat. I whirled and fixed him with a glare strong enough to match his own.
“This isn’t what I ordered.”
I took a breath to tell him too damn bad, he could just appreciate it because luxury was rare. Then I noticed I’d dropped someone else’s dirty plate in front of him.
I didn’t know whether to laugh, or be horrified at what I’d done.
“Crap,” I said. “Crap, crap, crap.”
Ducking my head so he wouldn’t see the embarrassment flooding my cheeks, I scurried over to correct the mistake.
“You’re quite out of sorts,” he remarked. Not that he sounded concerned.
“I didn’t sleep well,” I mumbled, lifting the plate away.
“I can see that. There are bags under your eyes.”
I narrowed said eyes. “You know, most girls would like to hear that they look pretty even if they hadn’t slept more than an hour all night.”
His expression mirrored mine. “I’m not most men.”
Clearly. “Yeah. I got that when you left a freaking knife on my table.”
I didn’t say it loudly, but Mystery Man went deathly still. If I’d been more rested and in a better mood, I wouldn’t have snapped at him, but I wasn’t, so I did.
“And did you find cause to use it?”
“Of course not,” I retorted. “Why on earth would I use a knife?”
He looked at me like I was an idiot. “To keep others from harming you. What else would you use it for?”
Patience. That’s what I was supposed to use here, right? Shame I didn’t have any.
“Well, let’s see, I could use it as a letter opener or to cut a steak, or–”
“I left you a weapon. Not a toy.”
“How flattering. Want to tell me why?”
Impossibly blue eyes bored into me for so deep and so long I was certain he was reading my mind. Or trying to. I really hoped that wasn’t the case. Sexy as he was, I didn’t want him to know anything about me. I didn’t want him to see how scared I’d been last night when I was being followed, or how I had been afraid to sleep because I didn’t want to relive that torture-dream. I didn’t want him to realize that even though he was being a world-class jerk, I still hoped to know him. I missed the person I met yesterday, the man with a polite demeanor and charming half-smile. And I definitely didn’t want him to know that attitude or no attitude, I still thought he was the most gorgeous person I’d ever seen.
“I told you,” he reiterated. “It’s for your protection.”
“How do you know I need it? What if I’m a jiu jitsu queen with an arsenal of ninja stars on my belt?”
Mystery Man stared blankly at me. Didn’t even look at my belt.
I put my hands on my hips. “I didn’t ask for your protection. I don’t even need it.” Because those men who’d followed me last night were likely beaten messes, and they’d pursued me because I was easy prey. It was a fluke, and it wouldn’t happen again. The city was too big and too broken. I was a waste of their time.
“Yes, you do,” Mystery Man countered. He shook his head. “You don’t even realize…”
“Realize what? I had to walk home alone last night, and I’m going to walk home alone tonight, too. You didn’t help me then, and you’re not going to help me now.”
He tilted his head back and sighed. He closed his eyes and whispered so quietly I barely heard him.
“Primes. Why am I always stuck with the stubborn ones?”
That did it. I was tired, rattled, and sick of dealing with a guy who was clearly a jerk and not-so-clearly insane. I’d started two hours earlier than I was scheduled, so I was sure Mikey would let me slip out a little early. It was getting dark, anyway, and the rush was over.
I reached behind my back and withdrew the covered knife. I moved the dirty plate to the table behind me, then smacked the blade down in front of Mystery Man. His eyes jerked toward it.
“Here’s the deal, Mystery Man. I don’t know who you are, what you think you can protect me from, or why you want me to think you care. You obviously don’t like me, and you’re not telling me anything. I’m tired, cranky, and like millions of other people, I don’t have a home. You drew the last straw, buddy. So do me a favor. Give Mikey and Maci a big tip when you finish your dinner, and leave me alone.”
I turned on my heel and stalked away, wondering if I had ever done something like this before. Probably not. I wasn’t the kind of girl to throw hissy fits or tantrums. The stress of the Centennial and the trauma I was keeping secret from everyone was getting to me. Even hopeless ditzes like me were allowed to have meltdowns every once in a while, right?
When I asked Mikey and Maci if I could go home, they didn’t even ask me why. That put Carrie in a tizzy, and a spring in my step.
After I slipped on my denim jacket and shook my hair from its ponytail, I left through the restaurant. It was the easiest way to the street, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to show Mystery Man that he hadn’t gotten the better of me.
It might have worked too, if the weirdo had been there.
His table was empty except for a set of Swiss Army knives. Figured.
The dagger remained on the table, causing me to scowl. I almost didn’t pick it up again, but remembering the gangs and my creepy stalkers from the night before made me reconsider.
Mystery Man didn’t want his fancy knife back? Fine. He wasn’t going to get it back.
Scooping the dagger up from the table, I changed the direction of my thoughts and decided to try and find Piper. She’d been reclusive lately, which wasn’t like her at all. She needed a friend, and I needed to talk. It was a win-win situation.
So of course, my luck took another turn for the worst when I stepped outside, looked up, and saw the rainclouds forming over my head.
“Really?” I cursed them. “Really?”
There was nothing I could do about the storm that sprang up from nowhere, so I tugged my jacket closed, tucked the dagger into the back of my belt, shoved my hands in my jean pockets, and made my way home.
The street was empty, as far as I could see. These days, people bolted at the first sign of a patch of grey cloud. Understandable, but it wasn’t that late out, so it shouldn’t have been half as dark as it was. Despite what my pride had barked at Mystery Man, I had no desire to be out here, alone in the dark.
I hunched my shoulders and tucked my head down. Until it started to rain. Then I looked up.
The rain wasn’t torrential– or even that ominous– yet. For a moment, I could feel a sense of peace with it. A natural kind of feeling that crept into my skin with every drop. I stopped in the middle of the street, craned my neck back, and closed my eyes. I let it absorb through me, a balm for whatever fear and despair had crushed into my soul. For one blissful minute, my mind was blank. There had been no Centennial Storm, no distraught family, no Stormkind or man with a crystal blade. There were no distracted friends, no heartbreaking strangers, and most importantly of all, there was no fear.
It was just me and the rain. Nothing had ever felt more natural. It was such a simple, wonderful thing, that I was able to smile at it–
“You shouldn’t be standing in the rain.”
I jumped at the deep voice, thinking for one second it was M
ystery Man. But Mystery Man’s voice had a slow, soothing rumble to it. His voice didn’t remind me of an agitated grizzly.
No, only Declan’s voice could do that.
He stood to my left, as wet as I was, a broad smile on his face and a glint in his eyes.
A smile and a glint that were sharp as knives.
“What are you doing here, Declan?” I asked. He never came to the Papaya Cantina, for which I was grateful.
He took a step closer to me, the smile sticking to his face like tar. “Waiting for you, of course.”
Well, that was unsettling to hear. But not as unsettling as the way his eyes took in my body, the way the rain had flattened my shirt to my stomach and chest.
“You know,” he purred, “You don’t look like a drowned rat right now. I thought you would. In fact, you’re almost pretty.”
I was debating on laughing or running.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m going home now.”
I turned to bolt as far from him as I could. I bumped into someone’s chest instead. I looked up at a sharp, angled face with a pinched mouth, dust-colored eyes, and hair the color of blood.
The look he was giving me sent a chill down my spine, and I reached back for the dagger. The crimson haired man moved lightning fast. He reached behind my back and grabbed my wrist. Crushing it in his hand, he plucked the dagger from my fist and tossed it deep into the rainstorm.
So much for protecting myself, I thought grimly.
In a flash, the man grabbed my chin and jerked my head up to his.
“Is she one of them?” Another, razor-sharp voice asked from my right. Oh, God, there were three of them. Surrounding me.
“Yes. And she has been tethered.”
I didn’t ask what that meant. All I could focus on was his voice. The serrated growl that had seared into my mind when he stood over me, and told me I was sufficient.
I grabbed his wrist to pull it away from my face, but he wouldn’t let me go.
“Tethered? Are you certain?”
The new voice had been getting closer. Suddenly, new hands were on me, gripping my arms and swiveling me. The third man had a tangle of pale grey hair and navy blue eyes. He was only a little taller than me, but he was broad and his grip was like iron.
The longer he looked at me, the more he scowled.
“Whom are you tethered to?” he demanded. “Who is your Guardian?”
“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
He growled and shook me. “You lie!” The gentle rain was now a downpour.
“You’re aggravating her, Turve,” the man from my dream rasped.
I was suddenly ripped away from him, thrown hard onto the cold ground. I yelped and rolled, feeling a sharp sting in my elbow. Grimacing, I sat up.
That was when I noticed the armor the two strangers wore. The black leather and silver iron plating. The hilts of swords crossing behind their backs.
My heart rate staggered, and the rain fell harder.
Turve glared at Declan. “You overstepped your bounds.”
Declan, still smiling, shrugged casually. “Couldn’t help it. She just makes it so easy.” He peered down at me. “Give me a minute, and I’ll make sure she comes with us.”
“No. You won’t.”
Turve, Declan, and the raspy-voiced stranger looked at the person behind me. So did I.
He’d swapped the bad boy biker gear for armor almost identical to that of the strangers across from me, except that the leather was midnight blue instead of black, and the plating was a frosty azure instead of silver. The ghost-pale swords in his hands were deadly sharp, streams of water slicking the three foot length and dripping from his clenched hands.
“You asked who she is tethered to,” Mystery Man growled. “Now you have your answer.”
Chapter 5
Mystery Man didn’t look away from the three people across from me. He looked like a tiger, muscles coiled and ready to spring on the nearest wild boar.
“Hadrian,” Turve’s friend rasped. “I never expected you to receive another charge.”
“Seems you and your ilk made it necessary, Ferno,” Mystery Man– Hadrian– responded venomously. “It seems Edur and Giro were foolish enough to cross paths with me.” His smile chilled me to my bones. “I would not expect to see them return soon.”
A sickening feeling rolled through my stomach. Memories of the two men following me, the third jumping out of nowhere and saving my life… Had that been Hadrian? Had he fought those two men, who sounded like allies of Turve and Ferno, to help me escape?
Did he kill them?
“Stand up and get behind me, Ava,” he commanded, cutting through my thoughts.
I didn’t really want to give in to his orders, especially since I might be walking closer to a murderer, but I also didn’t want to stay on the ground and get trampled.
I planted my feet and stood up–
A gust of wind slammed into my chest, pushing me away from Hadrian. Toward the people who wanted something from me. I didn’t even know what it was yet.
I landed on the road, striking my other elbow. I turned over and found Declan standing over me, that stupid, smug grin on his face.
“Like my trick, Ginger?”
Before I could ask what trick he was talking about, he swung his hand upward. A blast of wind slipped under me and pushed me off the ground. I hovered three feet in the air before he lowered his hand and dropped me.
Or tried to drop me.
A cool rush of water cushioned my fall. I followed its trail, a steady river of raindrops that led directly to Hadrian, and the sword he was using to direct them. His eyes were as dark as a stormy sea, his mouth set in a fierce line.
Declan roared in frustration and kicked me while I was still in the air. I screamed at the sudden pain and yelped again when I hit the ground. Someone shouted and swords began to clash. I turned my head and watched the raspy voiced man– Ferno– rush Hadrian with both swords. Hadrian snapped his eyes to Ferno and clashed with him straightaway. They moved with unnerving speed and grace, both blades hammering against one another with so much force I swore they would break.
Ferno swung both swords at Hadrian’s neck and stomach. Hadrian moved faster, using one blade to block the slash to his neck and the other to stop the one at his middle. He pushed them both away and slammed a kick into Ferno’s ribs.
Turve lunged, aiming his swords at Hadrian’s throat. He deftly ducked under both and jammed his shoulder into Turve’s chest. As the stocky man staggered back, Hadrian spun and slammed his elbow into Turve’s head.
Ferno roared and charged for Hadrian, shoving one of his blades toward his chest. Hadrian spun again and blocked the sword, but Ferno was lost in some kind of frenzy. He hacked and slashed like he was trying to cut Hadrian in half. I watched the grim determination in Hadrian’s eyes as he battled, saw the anger on Turve’s face as he recovered and gripped both swords. Then he whipped his head at Declan.
“Take her!”
I saw the sudden flash in Hadrian’s eyes. He heard Turve and looked at me. The split second cost him. He managed to get Ferno away from him, but Turve had another plan. He put the swords across his back and manipulated his hands, like he was cupping an invisible bowling ball. Around me, the wind picked up. Turve shoved his hands outward. The same force that had been tossing me around hit Hadrian and knocked him across the road. Ferno and Turve charged him while he was on the ground.
I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t watch Hadrian die, but I couldn’t fight. I didn’t even have a weapon–
A fist knotted in my hair and pulled up. I yelped and grabbed a thick wrist. My heels skidded along the pavement as I was dragged against a sturdy chest.
“Looks like your Guardian isn’t very good at his job, Ginger. You don’t even know what you’re capable of now, do you?”
“Let me go!” I shouted. I thrashed and flung my arms back, uselessly, as it turned out. If I didn’t hit something inconse
quential on Declan’s body, I missed him all together.
“You’re supposed to be like me, now. Looks like they’re going to make short work of your Guardian, so why don’t we see how strong they made you?”
Declan let go of my hair and shoved me forward. I staggered and whirled around, shivering when I saw the cold look on his face. I had no idea what he was talking about, let alone what was going on. I didn’t have time to think about it, either. Declan shoved out his hands.
A spark of blue light and a creaking noise came from my right. Whatever Declan tried to do was suddenly blocked by a creeping wall of ice. I looked over my shoulder and saw that Hadrian was standing. Frost circled his hand and the silver sword clutched in it, encasing it in a pale blue cast. He didn’t look longer than he had to, ducking under Ferno’s latest strike and slicing his sword toward Turve to keep him from attacking his back.
Declan shouted with rage, the wind around us picking up. Through the icy wall, I saw his shadow push forward. A gale of wind crashed into the wall and cracked it into a million pieces. I lifted my arm and blocked the jagged icy shards as best as I could. I lowered my hand as Declan charged for me.
I didn’t think about what I was doing, didn’t bother to understand it. I just wanted him to get away from me.
I held out my hands, ready to push him back.
My whole body shivered, like I’d been plunged into a cool river. Blood felt thick and sluggish in my veins, and my arms were heavy as I held them up. I grimaced at the bizarre sensation, hoping I would have enough strength to shoo Declan away. He kept storming closer, eyes wild and violent. I stepped back and thrust out my arms.
And Declan did get pushed back. But I never touched him.
Rainwater curved before my eyes. It bent in the air, the drops becoming horizontal as they darted toward Declan like needles. They struck his chest and halted him. He grimaced and clutched his chest. In that split second while he looked like he was in pain, I glanced at my hands. Only one question came to mind: