“I took my share of lumps when I first got here,” he says. “Quint was always on me about something. I was frustrated and felt like I couldn't do anything right. Or that anything I did wasn't good enough. That's about the way you're feeling right now, right?”
I take another sip of my beer and nod. “Yeah, something like that,” I ask and turn to him. “What happened to you, Deyro? You used to be your own man. You said and did as you pleased. You used to be -”
“An idiot,” he cuts me off. “I used to be an idiot. Look, after I passed the Trials and first got here, I thought I was the greatest thing ever. I thought I was above everybody else and that I'd be running the show here in no time flat.”
“And what happened?”
“I grew up,” he says. “I learned that I'm not the biggest and baddest around. More than that, I learned that I don't have to be. I don't need to be.”
“Don't you want to be?” I ask.
“What does that get you, Wyn?” he asks. “Look at you. You strut around here like you own the place. But what have you done? You passed the Trials. So, what? Everybody here passed the Trials. You're skilled with a blade, Wyn. Very skilled. But the way you walk around, like the rest of us are beneath you – is it any wonder you get the cold shoulder from people?”
“Do you think I care?”
“You should,” he says. “Who do you think is going to have your back in a fight? Or – not have it?”
I drain the last of my beer and set my glass down on the bar a little harder than necessary. I'm frustrated and feel my anger only growing. Anger at what, I'm not sure of. This isn't Deyro's fault and I'm not angry at him. I'm just – angry.
“You should work more on fitting in,” he says. “On being part of the team rather than set yourself apart and lone wolf it. Life here doesn't have to be as difficult – or as lonely and isolated – as you're making it.”
“I'm not lonely,” I reply and give him a grin. “Have you seen some of the women who come home with me?”
He shrugs. “If that's how you want to live your life,” he says, “far be it from me to say otherwise. But sometimes, you find somebody you connect with. Somebody you never expected and it really changes your perspective. Turns your life upside down – in a good way.”
I know that he's speaking of his wife, Alexis. She's a human who fights alongside the Rangers – part of a group called The Children of the Dawn. She's good with a blade and good in a fight. I'll never take that away from her. With the lifting of the sanction, a number of Rangers have taken human brides. And most, like Deyro, seem – content. Happy.
But I don't know that marriage – to a human or otherwise – is for me. Personally, I enjoy tasting all of the different fruits that this world has to offer. And I don't see anybody coming along to turn my world upside down anytime soon.
“Finding a connection, Wyn,” he says, “be it with a woman, a friend, or one of your brothers here – it gives you some grounding. I honestly don't care what your reasons were for becoming a Ranger. Ultimately, it's irrelevant. You're here. And you need to learn to be one of us. You need to find something that's worth fighting for.”
“Conform or die, huh?” I ask, my tone wry.
“No, nothing so stark,” he replies. “But when you realize there are things bigger than you and you have something to fight for, something worth protecting – that's when you start to grow. That's when you start to learn and evolve – and become something better than you are right now.”
“Something better than I am right now?” I ask. “What's that supposed to mean?”
Deyro shrugs. “That's up to you to figure out,” he said. “One thing you should keep in mind though, is that respect is earned. What you did in Chondelai doesn't matter here in the world of man. It's what you do here that counts.”
He tips me a wink as he slides off his stool and drops some cash on the bar before turning and looking at me again.
“Oh, if you want to get on Quint's good side?” he says. “Aside from not being a dick and blowing off your assignments, be a little more proactive. Get him some solid intel. Find out what you can dig up on this girl – this Kaitlyn. See if you can figure out what's going on with her.”
I return his gaze but don't have anything to say, so I just nod. Giving me a nod in return, he turns and leaves the bar, leaving me alone with his words and the bitter sting of his rebuke. There are a thousand different thoughts swirling through my head that weren't there before – and it's annoying as hell.
Sliding off my stool, I leave the little dump of a bar behind and head out into the darkness of the night, looking for something to take my mind off what's been a dumpster fire of a day.
Chapter Seven
Kaitlyn
I gasp and sit bolt upright in bed, my breathing ragged and my pulse pounding. I look around, feeling disoriented and confused. Sunlight streams through my bedroom window and when I look at the clock, I see that it's coming up on noon.
“What the hell?” I mutter as I slip out of bed and pad across to my bathroom.
My head is pounding and my throat is dry. I grab the bottle of aspirin from my cabinet and shake three into my hand. Turning on the faucet, I pop the pills into my mouth and scoop several handfuls of water, relishing the feel of the cool water sliding down my throat.
Looking down at myself, I see that I'm still in the dress I wore to the studio party the night before – but I have no idea how I got home. The last thing I remember, I'd fallen asleep on the couch with Nyro. But the memory is fuzzy. Hazy. It doesn't seem real.
I walk back into my room and sit down on the edge of my bed, running a hand through my hair, working out the knots that had cropped up, trying to figure out what happened to me last night. Reaching under my skirt, I feel my eyes grow a little wider when I realize that my panties are gone.
At least I know it wasn't a dream and I'm not crazy – I really had slept with Nyro. And as the memory of having sex with Nyro floats through my mind, I feel my cheeks flush. The sex had been great. Amazing.
“Thank, God. I was beginning to think you were dead.”
I look up and see Ashley standing in my doorway, a crooked little smile on her face and a look of worry in her eyes.
“H – how did I get here?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don't know, I assume that whoever you screwed last night brought you home,” she says and laughs. “I heard you stumbling in around four this morning.”
“I barely remember last night,” I say.
“Apparently you took my advice to loosen up a little too much to heart last night.”
“I wasn't drinking,” I say, the thick blanket of confusion wrapping itself around me tighter. “At least, not that much.”
She comes in and sits beside me on the bed, looking at me with a concerned expression on her face. “Are you okay?”
“I – I think so,” I say. “I just don't remember a lot about last night.”
Ashley takes my hand, the worry in her eyes deepening. “Were you drugged? Did he –”
I shake my head as bits and flashes of the night before drift through my mind. My body tingles as I remember having him inside of me. I hear my voice, telling Nyro that I wanted it. As my head begins to clear, the memories begin to flood back in.
“No,” I say. “I was willing. I went home with him. I just – it's just weird. It's like he had some kind of a spell over me or something.”
Ashley wraps her arms around me and pulls me close. “I was so worried about you,” she says. “When I came back to the table and found you gone –”
“I'm fine. I swear it,” I say. “It was just a – weird – night.”
She leans back, my hands still in hers. Ashley is looking at me with a sly grin on her face.
“What?” I ask.
“So, who was this mystery guy?”
“His name is Nyro,” I say. “I – didn't you send him over to the table? He said he worked with Rick Mason.”
Ashley
bites her bottom lip and looks like she's trying to remember last night as hard as I am. After a moment, she looks at me and shrugs.
“I dunno,” she says. “Maybe I did and just don't recall. I had a few drinkies and was doing a lot of – networking – for the both of us last night. I might have.”
“Networking, huh?” I ask. “What's his name?”
A wide smile spreads across her face. “Brian,” she says. “And Tommy. They're stuntmen for the studio.”
I look at her, eyes wide, my mouth hanging open. “Are you telling me –”
I see the color flare in her cheeks, but her smile never falters. “At the same time,” she says. “It was amazing. Best night of my life. I can't believe I waited so long to have a threesome.”
I laugh and give her hand a squeeze. “You're such a whore.”
“Yeah, but you love me.”
“You're lucky I do.”
“Breakfast?” she asks brightly. “I mean – lunch?”
“Sure,” I say. “Let me just shower first.”
“Probably a good idea.”
Ashley flounces out of my room and I stand up, going back into the bathroom again and close the door behind me. As fragments of memory of the night before continues to come back to me, the confusion only deepens. I remember seeing something glowing around Nyro. Remember the heat that spread throughout my body when he came. Remember the surrealistic feeling of the whole night – like I was walking through a dream.
I know I wasn't drugged – but by the same token, I don't feel like I was in complete control of myself either. But until I figure it out or gain some more clarity, I'm not going to tell Ashley about it. She'll only freak out and that's the last thing either of us need right now.
Reaching into the shower, I turn it on and let the water heat up. With steam billowing around, filling up the small bathroom, I step in a few moments later and wince at the almost scalding water as it hits my skin. I step beneath the spray of water and let the heat pour down over me. I stand beneath it as long as I can before I'm forced to turn the temperature down.
I lean my forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall as the water washes down over me. As I stand there, trying to clear my mind, I see again, the glow around Nyro's body. I see his eyes glowing with an inner light, making them shimmer a golden color.
And then a new memory surfaces – one that leaves me rattled and more confused than before.
I remember being stretched out on his couch. Naked. I remember waking up and seeing Nyro, his eyes glowing, that strange aura around his body. He was speaking softly in a language I didn't recognize, his head thrown back, one hand on my belly. I remember looking down and seeing the hand resting on my stomach was glowing and I recall a strange feeling inside of me. Aside from the heat upon my skin, it felt like there was something alien crawling around, twisting and wriggling, inside of me.
I remember crying out and seeing Nyro's eyes fall onto me. I remember seeing a dark look, an expression of pure anger upon his face. I recall that he put a hand against my forehead, said a few strange words in that stranger language he spoke, and then I knew no more.
Not until I'd woken up in my bed.
It all seems so clear. And yet – I can't shake the feeling that it's all nothing more than a dream. That it hadn't really happened anywhere other than in my head while I slept. It all sounds too ludicrous – too absurd – to be anything but a bizarre dream, right?
I put my hand on my stomach and swear I can feel something twisting and turning around inside of me. I almost cry out until I take a deep, steadying breath and push the thought away. It's ridiculous. I'm an actress. A woman with a powerfully active imagination. I tell myself that the whole thing with Nyro glowing and doing some sort of weird ritual – implanting something inside of me – is nothing more than a dream.
It has to be. Because nothing else makes sense.
I finish washing myself and climb out of the shower, toweling myself off. The more I think about it, the more ridiculous it sounds and the more I want to laugh at myself. Because it's absolutely absurd, the more I think about it, the more I realize it has to be a dream or the product of an overactive imagination fueled by a couple of Cosmos. It's too outlandish and bizarre to be anything else.
By the time I'm dressed and ready, I'm feeling a little more grounded in reality and better. Not just better, actually. I feel good. Really good. I feel better than I've felt in a long time. Maybe ever. It's a little strange, but I push the thoughts away and simply enjoy the feeling.
I have no idea why, but I feel like a whole new me. And hungry. I'm suddenly famished. I walk out into the living room, ready to go.
“Let's go, whore,” I call out, giggling. “I'm starving.”
Chapter Eight
After sleeping late and doing some sparring at the training house Quint and the Children of the Dawn had built, it's well after dark by the time I get out into the streets. I'd done some digging – as much as I could anyway – and had narrowed my search down to one hundred and forty-two possible Kaitlyn Howards in the Los Angeles area.
I stare at the list in my hand – the list that contains the names and addresses of all one hundred and forty-two Kaitlyn Howards I could find. And there's no guarantee that the one I'm looking for is even on this list.
Yeah, I have no idea how I'm going to find her.
Feeling frustrated and annoyed, I tuck the list back into my pocket and start to walk my normal beat. Quint's not back from Chondelai yet, but he has eyes and ears everywhere. I'm scheduled to patrol tonight, which means that I'm not going to be able to hit the club to blow off some steam. Not tonight, anyway.
My hope is that I can find something to kill to take my mind off things. Although, dark creatures to kill are something that's been in short supply the last few weeks.
I prowl the usual alleys and backstreets, searching for something – anything – to kill. But nothing rears its evil head. There is literally nothing going on out here. It's almost as if the world – or at least, all of the dark things that dwell in it – are holding their collective breaths as they cower in the shadows.
Maybe we've been so good and so efficient at our jobs that we've driven them underground. Permanently. It's a nice thought, but even as it passes through my mind, I know I can reject it out of hand. It's only a matter of time before a Shongtal, or a Chokan, or some other evil creature decides it's had enough of hiding and comes back out into the night.
When it does, I'll be there, ready to cut it to pieces. Until then, I have little to do but walk around twiddling my thumbs, apparently.
I enter an open field behind a large, four story building. It's dilapidated and abandoned. Most of the windows have been broken out and the brick facade of the building is cracked and chipped away. The building, I think it used to be an office of some kind way back when, is pretty much a hotel for crackheads now.
Whenever I sweep the building, all I see are people laying on the concrete floor in a drug-induced stupor, hookers down on their knees, earning a few bucks, or any of a thousand different kinds of debauchery. It's actually a pretty depressing sight.
The field itself is littered with old appliances, tons of garbage, and a couple of old, rusted out cars that have been stripped down to the frames. I climb up on what's left of the hood of an old truck and sit down. Leaning back, I let out a long breath and stare up at the sky. It's a crisp, cloudless night – which seems to be the norm in Los Angeles.
If there is one thing I do miss about Chondelai, it's the fact that there's actual weather there. There are days that are warm, days that are cool, days it rains. Hell, there are even some days it snows. But here in LA, every day seems to be exactly the same as the last one.
Some days I don't feel like I fit in here. Like I don't belong. Not that I shouldn't be a Ranger – I proved my mettle with them. Just in this world. I don't feel anything really for the humans I'm sworn to protect. I don't feel a connection to this world. I just don't feel li
ke I should necessarily be here.
I run a hand through my hair and shake my head. “You're just feeling sorry for yourself again.”
As I stare up at the silvery slice of moon in the sky, some of the things Deyro said to me back at the bar the other night reverberated through my mind – feeling the truth of the words hitting me all over again. I do feel isolated. Alone. I'm more or less shunned by the older Rangers and I haven't built any connections with our human allies.
I'd never admit it to Deyro – or anybody else for that matter – but the truth is, I am lonely. I'd expected to walk in and be accepted by the Rangers. My accomplishments in the Trials speak for themselves. I do belong among them.
And yet, they treat me like an outsider. Like somebody beneath them. Not worthy to be in their ranks.
Respect is earned.
Deyro's words float through my mind again and again. That I have to earn their respect, after what I've accomplished already – it's infuriating. And I've always believed that respect is a two-way street. They've shown me none, so why should I show them? Why should I defer to them when they've done nothing but ostracize me?
Even more than that though – how am I supposed to earn their respect when they won't give me a chance?
I rub the bridge of my eyes and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to silence the noise in my head. I don't want to think about it anymore. And I sure as hell don't want to keep feeling sorry for myself all night.
Turning my head up to the sky, I close my eyes and let the cool breeze wash over me. With no dark creatures to kill, I need to find something else to occupy my mind. My thoughts turn to the list in my pocket and to Kaitlyn Howard.
If respect is earned, I have to think that tracking her down may earn me a few points in my column. Maybe. With Quint, you never know. But at least, figuring out how I'm going to find her will kill some time.
I pull the list out of my pocket and look at all the names and addresses again. Nothing stands out to me – no matter how hard I stare and squint at it. Feeling my frustration growing already, I fold the page and put it away again.
No Such Thing as Dragons : Complete Series Box Set (Books 1 - 5) Page 56