“You loved him? Didn’t you?”
A sadness fell on her, like a dark curtain blocking out the light. The brightness of her eyes dimmed. There was a story there. A story of loss.
“Yes. Very much.” She stood, now looking down at him. “As you love Sarah. Use that Clint. Let it be the light that brings you back from the deep.”
“How can I? When she is being held by that monster?”
“And who will rescue her if you lose yourself completely, Clint?”
He stared at her, her eyes glistened, and he knew she was on the verge of crying herself.
She turned and left him.
‘Who will rescue her if you lose yourself completely, Clint?’ She had asked him. Who indeed, Clint?
Kat hadn’t truly needed to get air. She was tired of being cooped up in the hotel room. She knew it was foolish to be out at this point. Sylvanis was right. It was dangerous out here now.
She had called her parents earlier to let them know the cat was out of the bag. Her mom and dad had chuckled at the pun but had understood what it would mean for them. It wouldn’t be long before people within the government, law enforcement or the press, would come looking for answers. Her mom had assured her they would be alright. The moment Kat had left to find answers, they had started preparing for this eventuality. They had a safehouse to go to. Stocked and off the grid. They would hide out there for as long as Kat felt it was unsafe for them.
Kat had been afraid to tell them she didn’t believe it would ever be safe for them. She knew they had been planning for her to take on this role since she was born, but now it was here, she wondered if they truly understood the impact it would have on all their lives.
In a way, she envied Stephanie and Jason. For now, they could walk away. Live their lives beyond this whole mess. True, if what Sylvanis believes Kestrel would do, it may be short lived, but they could avoid having their lives turned upside-down by being exposed.
She was tempted to call them and tell them to lay low. Forget about them and do their best to live the rest of their lives in peace. Her thoughts returned to the battle though, and how badly it all went. No. They needed Stephanie and Jason. And Mike if they could convince him to come as well. They needed all the help they could get.
Kat stepped out onto the streets of Chicago. Wind whipped around her, chilling her bare neck and she hiked up her hood, turned away from the wind and began walking. She had no destination in mind, she only wanted to get out.
The sun sat high in the sky, but the clouds were doing their best to interfere with the warmth giving light. The streets were crowded with people and there seemed to be an anxiousness in the air. Despite the coverup, it seemed the people of Chicago knew something horrible had happened in their hometown. Again.
There had been people on that street who had witnessed what had happened, and those people hadn’t been quiet. Word would have travelled. Even in this day and age of less one-on-one social interaction, people would still talk.
Kat decided to make her way to the Magnificent Mile. To the place where it all began not too long ago for her and Clint. The place of the first battle. The place where she had returned to that night when she had met Ben and fought Clint.
She wondered what the word on the street was now. Surely people who had seen her fight Clint would have also talked. The news of the battle would have gotten out. They knew they had fought side by side against the Boar, but also had fought each other. Then, they fought again against the Boar.
She wondered if the people still thought of them as heroes after this last battle. Dozens had died. They had done their best to save as many people as possible, but in the end, they looked like the monsters who had killed. Would people be capable of holding their prejudices and see they were on their side?
She hoped so.
Without realizing how much ground she had covered, she found herself on a street corner looking out at the spot of their first fight. The destruction they had caused to the buildings in the area had been fixed. She caught a couple of females, perhaps in their twenties, taking a selfie next to the building which had been hit by the manhole cover. She shook her head.
She became instantly aware she was no longer alone and tensed.
“It’s crazy, isn’t? How something which should have been so impossible to ever have happened can suddenly be accepted as reality like it has always been that way?”
Kat glanced sidelong at the man who had spoken to her. He was tall, solid looking, with jet black hair which was close cropped with a little tuft in the front which stood straight up.
Despite the chill in the air, he only wore a t-shirt, which clung to his muscular frame like its life depended on it. Well-defined arms hung relaxed from his broad shoulders; his thumbs planted in his jean’s pockets.
She could only see his profile; he wasn’t an overly attractive man. He had a long scar, which ran from his lower jaw, across his cheek and ended right before his eye. It left a long white mark on otherwise black skin. He had been lucky whatever had caused that scar hadn’t kept going, otherwise he would have lost the eye.
As if noticing her scrutinizing him, he turned to her. She realized she had been somewhat mistaken. While he wasn’t overtly attractive, with a face flat, and his nose wide, his head was rather squarish, but he had beautiful blue eyes and a masculinity to his features and poise Kat found immediately attractive.
This man was a fighter. Like her. That made her more wary. She watched him, and he watched her as if patiently waiting for her to comment on his observation.
She turned back to study the street.
The man huffed at her rudeness but didn’t leave.
She waited.
He waited.
At last, she turned back to him.
“Is there something I can do for you?”
He didn’t look at her, but he pursed his lips and shook his head.
“No. But I think there might be something I can do for you?”
Oh, for Christ sake. Is he hitting on me? Of all the things she expected to happen today, this wasn’t one of them. She was tempted to tell him he had no idea what he was getting himself into, but she feared she knew his type. A statement like that would only embolden him to try harder. And she didn’t want that. Did she?
She sighed audibly.
“Look. I’m sure you’re a nice guy, but . . .”
His laugh caught her off guard and she shut her mouth with an audible clack.
“I’m sorry. I just realized how I must be coming off. Approaching a pretty woman and making a statement like that.” He shook his head, still chuckling slightly.
“Let me try this again.” He turned to her fully and held out his hand. Now she could see all of him, including the tattoo of the eagle poised over a globe with an anchor through it. A marine tattoo. Now knowing he was a marine sent warning alarms off. Could this be the beginning of the government’s involvement?
She didn’t take his hand and after a moment he shrugged and let it drop. “My name is Jessie, and I know who you are.”
She wanted to run, but something in the ease in which he presented himself made her choose to stay.
He had a friendly smile. A disarming one, and she guessed, one which charmed most people.
She wasn’t most people.
“And?”
His smile faltered for a moment. “And . . . and as I said, I think there is something I can do for you.”
Kat started to survey the crowd, ignoring Jessie for the moment. She wondered if there were other soldiers in the crowd. Waiting to make their move.
“I’m alone,” Jessie told her.
She glanced back at him, not surprised he could read what she was thinking.
“Look, I don’t know who you think I am, or what you think you could do for me, but I doubt you do or can, so if you aren’t going to leave me at this corner in peace, then I will move on.”
She began crossing the street and he moved in beside her. She closed her eyes for a moment
and shook her head.
“Dude.” She turned and grabbed his arm to turn him around to look at her and despite his muscular frame she did so with ease. His eyebrows shot up and he stared down at the hand holding his arm.
“Get lost. O.K.?” The fact she had stopped them in the middle of the street didn’t bother her. When the light turned green, people would have to deal with it. “I don’t want or need anything from you. Just leave me be.”
His eyes raised to hers and his mouth parted slightly, as if wanting to say something but unable to get past how effortlessly she had moved him about.
“I . . . I . . .”
She scoffed at his uncertainty and let go of his arm and walked away. After a moment, he fell in beside her again.
This was getting annoying.
She stepped into a side alley, and he moved with her.
The moment they were clear of the crowds, she wheeled on him, planted her hand on his chest. Apparently, he had been waiting for it and grabbed her wrist and twisted it.
Or at least tried to. She decided she didn’t want to have her wrist twisted and flexed her arm muscles. As his body moved to knock her off balance, which would have been the next move after twisting her wrist, he instead found an immovable object and his attempt to sidestep her attack had been thwarted.
She rolled her wrist around and grabbed his and squeezed. He gasped and halted his attempt to knock her down. She took her other hand and again planted it against his chest, forcing him backward to slam hard against the wall with an ‘Oof’.
“You were asked nicely,” she let a little bit of her tiger growl enter her voice, “to which you ignored. So, now I am going to ask, not so nicely.”
She moved in real close to him, and although she wasn’t as tall as him, she was close. She put her face inches from his and this time she did growl, low and deep. “Leave. Me. The Fuck. Alone. Got it?”
To his credit, if he was afraid, he didn’t show it. He continued to look her in the eyes and didn’t shy away.
“You need help,” he told her. There was no fear in his voice. There was, however, a little bit of pain. She released the pressure on his wrist and eased up on pushing him against the wall.
She studied him for a long moment, wondering at his determination all things considered and arched her eyebrows at him.
“I was there. I saw. You all did your best, but in the end the only reason you won was because they weren’t playing to win — only delay.”
She let him go. He was right. They had been hard pressed. If they had Stephanie and Jason and if Clint had been with them from the beginning . . . maybe they would have won, but as it was, they won because the other side left.
“Go on,” she told him.
He moved off the wall and straightened his shirt, massaging his wrist.
“If you are what I think you guys are, then you can . . .not sure what you would call it . . . transfer your ability? Or something like that, to others, right?”
She didn’t answer, only stared at him expressionless. This guy not only managed to identify her, but follow her, and figure out she and the others were lycanthropes.
Jessie looked down at his feet and shuffled them, as if unsure as to what to say next now he had revealed what he knew.
He peered back up at her.
“I’d like to volunteer.”
Her eyes went wide. This was not where she thought this conversation would go.
“You’d what?”
“Volunteer. Look, I saw, O.K. Not only did you fight those other . . . Were-creatures, but you did it to defend others. You fought for the police. You’re the good guys! And I want to be a part of that.”
“I don’t think you understand what you are asking.”
He stepped up to her. She was close to him in height, but he still topped her by a little as he stared down into her eyes. They were bright and full of energy.
“Something is coming. I know it. This isn’t some random attack by this other group. This isn’t like some gang war between two rival gangs.” He spread his hands wide. “Tell me I’m wrong?”
She shook her head. “You aren’t. But still . . .”
“Still, nothing. While this isn’t the zombie apocalypse, there isn’t much difference is there?” He raised his eyebrows in question. “It’s like an infection, and it can be spread. And this other group . . . they want to spread it, right?”
Kat had to contain a snort. Zombie apocalypse. He isn’t that far off though, is he. She had never considered it as something like that, but now that he mentioned it…
“Jessie, while I appreciate your desire to fight the good fight . . .”
“I’m not going to have a choice at some point, am I?”
She was getting tired of his continuing interruptions.
“Sorry,” he apologized after noticing her expression. “It’s just that I know your intention is to keep me safe, but if I’m right, no one will be safe, eventually.”
It was much the same argument Sylvanis had given to them at the beginning and she couldn’t fault him for his logic. He knew there was a fight coming and he wanted to be armed and on the right side.
She glanced away, off down the alley into the main street. Dozens of people passed right by the entrance to the alley and no one noticed them. This world was full of sitting ducks, waiting to either be slaughtered, or enslaved. Could she fault someone for wanting to fight instead?
Looking back at him, she nodded, and he seemed to relax, as if he had put everything into this moment and now, he accomplished his goal.
“O.K., but there is much you need to know before I let you agree to this.”
“But . . .”
She held up a hand to shut him up.
“After. You will wait to make up your mind . . . after. You will listen to what I tell you. You will take the time to weigh what I tell you against your desire to join us. Then. And only then, if you still want to do this, I will agree.”
He studied her as if looking for the meaning of her words in her eyes and after a moment he agreed.
“Tell me.”
She gazed up and down the alley.
“Not here.”
He smiled at her, and she had to admit, it was a nice smile. “Lead on.”
When Sylvanis left Kat and Clint’s room she didn’t immediately return to her own. She had one more person to try and console.
She didn’t feel up to the task.
Hank’s loss, all their loss, seemed insurmountable.
Simon had been a breath of fresh air.
As much as she liked each and every one of her new Trues, Simon, who, besides Jason, had been the only other Pure, had been her favorite. Hank, Kat, Clint and to a lesser amount, Stephanie and Jason, had been fairly serious people. Simon had been bright. Easy with a laugh and a joke, always provoking his father.
Oh, Simon, you will be missed.
Hank. Well, Hank was not doing well. Not well at all. Since the loss of Simon, he had barely said a word to any of them. Hadn’t left his room. Sylvanis had brought him food, but when she had returned to retrieve the plates, they had appeared untouched.
Sylvanis was sure Hank wanted to die.
Only, he couldn’t do it himself, and she surely wasn’t going to help him.
When she reached his door, she knocked lightly, paused for any type of response. When none was forthcoming, she pushed the door open. It was unlocked. There was some hope for Hank. He wanted a way back. He wouldn’t leave the door unlocked if he didn’t want someone to rescue him.
“Hank?” she called lightly. The room was dark. The curtains were drawn tight and were close to opaque as most hotel curtains were. From the light bleeding in from the hallway, Hank’s bulky form could be seen on the bed. His back was to her.
She turned the light on, and he made no move to show he noticed.
Nor did he answer her.
Crossing the room, she rested lightly on the side of the bed.
“Hank. I am prob
ably one of the last people you wish to see right now. I am sure you blame me for Simon’s death. I know, I do. Without me, the two of you would be living in peace in Canada. Away from all this violence.”
Still no response. If it hadn’t been for his uneven breathing, she would have thought him asleep.
“You most likely hate me. If I had given more thought to my response to Kestrel’s spell . . . I don’t know . . . maybe I would have found a better way. A way that wouldn’t have dragged innocent people into this fight. People who wanted nothing to do with this war.”
She hung her head and examined her hands. Her long delicate fingers moved around each other in a restless dance. She wasn’t used to second guessing herself in this manner. The consequences of inhabiting a body meant for a little girl, she supposed.
“I . . .”
“It wasn’t your fault, and I don’t blame you.”
Hank rolled around to look at her, and she met his eyes.
“You don’t?”
“No. There are only two people at fault here. Kestrel, and whoever drove that knife in to my son’s chest.”
Sylvanis stared at this man in surprise and relief. He didn’t blame her, even when she couldn’t find blame for anyone else. And yet, what he said held wisdom. Wisdom she should have known if she had stopped letting self-pity rule her.
“I know why you are here, Sylvanis. I know because if I were someone else, I would be right where you were, trying to keep them alive.”
Sylvanis looked away, color rising in her cheeks.
“No. Don’t be embarrassed. You are right to worry. Or at least, you would have been right to worry before all of this happened to me and Sim.”
He shifted down and swung his legs over the side of the bed to sit next to her.
“When this happened to us, it brought us so much closer than we had been before. Before this, I would have sunken back into the hole I had found myself in when Jennifer died. I almost did.”
Hank sighed and shrugged. “Sim brought me out of that dark hole. Sim, being Sim. That connection to Jennifer that he brought into my life. It allowed me to hang on and climb back out.”
He turned to her and she could see the tears welling in the corner of his eyes.
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