by Lane Hart
"Cyn, we've got to find somewhere else for you to stay," I tell her. She goes still before pulling her lips from mine to sit back on her knees above me.
"Wh-what do you mean? You don't want me here anymore?"
"Yes, I want you here with me. God, I loved coming home to find you in my bed, but it's not safe anymore. There was a note in my mailbox. The shit may be about to hit the fan, and I don't want you going down with me."
"What did it say?"
"Something about me being exposed, and then these people would help me find my nieces once that happens."
"Nieces?"
"Yeah, I don't know what that's about or how they know about her, but they do."
"Then take me with you," she says softly, and the fact that I consider it even for a second means I've already gotten too fucking close to her.
"Cyn I can't. I don't know who these people are, or where I'll end up. I wanted you to stay here to be safe from Mitch. I can't knowingly put you in a situation that could be so much worse than him just because I'm a selfish bastard."
"It might not be that bad-"
"No," I say, cutting her off before she changes my mind.
She blinks a few times like she was fighting tears. "So, just like that you'll drop me off somewhere and I'll never hear from you again?" she asks, and the hurt in her eyes causes me to have to look away.
"I'm sorry."
She climbs off of me and is out of bed the next second.
"Cyn wait…"
"No, let me make it easier for you and leave now," she says, walking out of my bedroom without turning around.
Fuck!
"Where are you going?" I ask, jumping up to follow her into the living room.
"I don't know."
"Please just stay here until we can find somewhere I know you'll be okay," I beg, rubbing my hands down the back of her bare shoulders and arms.
"No," she snaps, pulling away to put on her jeans and a t-shirt, and slipping even further away from me.
"Fuck!" I exclaim, and when she jumps I realize my mistake. "Cyn, I'm not yelling at you. I'm frustrated because I don't want you to leave, but you can't stay, and I don't know what to do…damn it!"
"You don't need to do anything," she replies, throwing articles of clothing into her suitcase.
"Will you at least call me and let me know you're okay?" I ask. Her non-response is my answer. "Will you give me your number? I don’t have any way to find you."
"You don't need to find me. That's the point right?" she asks, then goes to the bathroom for her things. Max whines and follows her, trying in his own way to talk her out of leaving.
When she comes back I know this is it. She has everything packed and is really about to walk away from me, out of my life for good. I can barely breathe past the crippling pain in my chest at the idea of never seeing her again.
I follow her to the door and hold it shut with my hand above her head when she tries to open it. Wrapping my other arm tightly around her waist to hold her to me I kiss the top of her head and try to change her mind one last time. "Please stay," I beg and she shakes her head. When she sniffles it almost brings me to my knees, knowing she’s crying because I hurt her.
God, I've never wanted anyone or anything as much as I want her. But I can never give her what she deserves. I’m nothing more than a murderer, with a black soul to match my black blood, and either she'd be revolted when she found out, or she'd end up dead like everyone else I've ever cared about.
Forcing my arm to fall from the door and my feet to take a step back, I do one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do.
I let her go.
…
Cyn
I wipe my tears with the back of my hand as I walk down the sidewalk, with not a clue as to where I’m going.
Damn him!
I'd tossed and turned all night, waiting for Jason to come home, so I could feel his arms around me, and instead he pushes me away. God I’m such a fool. I never saw such an abrupt ending coming. He's managed to hurt me worse than anything Mitch has ever done to me, and that’s saying something.
I know he’s only trying to do what he thinks is best for me. And because of my stupid pride I couldn't give in, or even let him have a way to call me or find me.
An hour later after I've been walking around aimlessly with my luggage, my cell phone rings, making me jump. I want it to be him, even though I know that’s impossible. Instead it’s an unknown local number. Oh crap.
"Hello?"
"Why haven't you posted my bond yet?" Mitch yells without even a greeting.
"Why would I?"
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"Here, let me clarify it for you. I'm not going to post your bond."
"Goddamn it, it's your fault I'm here and you're just going to let me sit here and rot?"
"Yes," I say. My hurt feelings are making me feel feisty, and I’m so tired of his shit.
He changed his tone suddenly, the way he had so many times before. "You know that wasn't me. I was drunk and couldn't think straight. I don't even remember what happened."
"Oh, that's too bad because I do, and I'm tired of your excuses. It was you. You decided to get drunk before coming home, and you decided to yell and hit me when there wasn't anything in the apartment for you to drink. It's always you and your shitty choices and I'm tired of it!"
"I'll stop drinking. Just come post my bond and I won't touch another drop."
"Do you actually think I believe you after hearing that time after time? Yes, you have a problem and you need help and need to stop drinking, but I'm done."
"No, don't say that. I love you and I'm going to do better."
"Goodbye Mitch," I say, ending the call.
I find myself standing in front of one of the women's shelters. I don't want to ask for help, but I want Mitch to find me even less. I know he'll get some asshole friend or relative of his to post his bond any day now. Maybe this time I can actually get away from him.
Chapter Six
Jason
The past three days have been God awful. I miss Cyn so fucking much. Her asshole boyfriend or ex or whatever the hell he is has made bond, and I’m going crazy worrying about her. The women's shelter said she left the day before, and I have no fucking clue where she is or how to find her.
Then I get an awesome idea.
I turn the dial unlocking the small safe I keep on the shelf in my closet, then pull out the padlocked tackle box and pop it open with the key. There aren’t any fishing supplies in it though. Instead, it holds vials of different colors and empty ones safely surrounded by styrofoam, along with a small, battered notebook. Flipping through the pages I finally come to what I hope will take me to Cyn, a finding spell. All I need is a single hair from her, which is easy. She'd left behind several strands of her long red hair when she stayed with me. That and ten drops of my blood is all it will take.
I grab an empty vial, use my pocketknife to nick my finger, and then squeeze the drops in. I go to the bathroom to search, and thank you God, find one of her beautiful strands. I push it down into my blood, cork it, and wait.
Fuck. Nothing happened.
Okay, I have to think this through. I never had a real teacher, and the notebook doesn’t always explain how a spell will work. I try facing the other direction and nothing, but on the way back around it lights up green, facing east. Bingo.
...
Cyn
Leaving the hotel for the first time all day, I walk several blocks until I get to a little café. Standing in line, I can't help but glance around, paranoid he’s looking for me because I wasn't at his apartment when he was released. I'd stayed inside the women's shelter for two days, until a woman and her kids needed a safe place more than me. After that I checked into a cheap hotel, but on my teacher's salary, I can't afford many more nights there, and have no freaking idea what I’m going to do.
When it’s my turn at the counter I order a black coffee, then sit at a table
near the window to drink it while trying to come up with a plan. That's when I spot him.
Not Mitch, but Jason.
He’s standing across the street in his uniform, and looking right at me through the glass. My heart stops beating and it takes several seconds for it to remember how to start again. God, I've missed him so much, and just the sight of him is physically painful. Hell, I’m not completely sure I’m not just imagining him.
Jason or the figment of my imagination look both ways, waiting for traffic to clear, then jogs across the street and into the shop, sitting down in front of me. His beautiful blue-green eyes look sad and tired, and he hasn't shaved in a few days.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey. How'd you…"
"I have my ways," he says with a shrug. "And you stand out, even in a crowd."
"What do you want Jason?" I ask around the tightness in my throat while staring down at my coffee lid. Looking at him hurts too damn much.
"To see you. Make sure you're okay. The shelter said you left."
"You knew I was there?" I look back up at him in surprise.
"Yeah. Why'd you leave?"
"Someone else needed the space more."
He makes a sound of aggravation. "Where are you staying?"
"A hotel."
"Then what are you going to do?" he asks with a frown.
"I don't know. My job's here, so I can't really leave the city."
"Where do you work?"
"Jefferson Middle School."
"That's right, you're a teacher. I can't believe I never even talked to you about what you do for a living."
"Yeah. Seventh grade math."
"You can teach math anywhere."
"Yeah, if I was to get offered a job somewhere else. In case you haven't heard, the schools are all having to cut back."
"They can't cut math."
"Just forget it," I say, shaking my head.
Jason reaches across the table and pulls one of my hands free from the death grip I have on my coffee cup to intertwine my fingers with his.
"I miss you," he says softly, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. Just that small touch from him sets off fireworks in my body.
"So? Nothing's changed," I tell him, forcing myself to pull my hand away from his warm one.
He slumps back against his chair and covers his face with his hands. "You're right. I shouldn't even be here."
"Then why are you here?"
His hands lower and he looks at me a minute before responding. "Because you're all I think about and I had to see you. I've been so damn worried about you, Cyn."
I blink back the tears that are threatening to fall.
"He's out," Jason tells me and his jaw is so tight I see it tick.
"I know. The District Attorney's office left me a message Monday."
"Watch your back, and call me if you see him. Okay?" he asks, when I don't respond.
I look away, and Jason makes a frustrated noise before grabbing my phone up from the table. It’s becoming an annoying habit of his.
"You deleted my numbers?" he accuses, the expression on his gorgeous face angry and hurt. "Why?"
I grab my phone back from him and throw it in my purse before I answer. "When he finds me, that's the first thing he'll look at."
"You said when, not if he finds you."
"He will eventually. But I'm not going to sit in a room and cry about it all day, afraid to step foot outside."
"You are the most hardheaded woman I've ever met, and I want you so bad I can't fucking stand it," he says through clenched teeth.
My breath catches as his words registered. He wants me? I know it’s stupid, and he’s going to hurt me again when he pushes me away, but I need him.
"It's Thursday," I remind him. When he gave the schedule of the bases, Thursday was the "all the way" day. It takes a few seconds before his eyes darken with the understanding of what I’m referring to, then he’s out of his chair, reaching for my hand to pull me up from mine.
We make it to the sidewalk before he stops abruptly and growls. "I can't. Fuck! I'm on the clock and I've blown my partner off for too long as it is."
"Later?" I ask, needing to see him again, feel his body against mine, holding me, and making me feel safe.
"God yes. Where are you staying?" he asks, bringing my hand to his lips to kiss my knuckles.
"Beacon. Room 318."
"I'll be there as soon as I can," he says, and then he pulls me to him, wrapping me in his arms before he leans down to kiss me. His lips barely touch mine before he suddenly jerks away.
His expression flashes surprise and confusion. "What the fu-" he starts to yell but a fist catches him in the face before I can even yell out a warning.
Oh shit!
Mitch shoves Jason away from me, yelling “I knew you would lead me straight to her you fucking bastard. I saw the way you were eye-fucking her in my goddamned house. I don’t care if you’re a cop, I am going to fuck you up!”
After the first caught-off-guard hit, Jason recovers and goes off on the other man, pummeling Mitch with both of his fists over and over, until he’s on the ground with Jason on top of him. Mitch screams something, but is so enraged he is incoherent. When Mitch finally quits fighting back Jason goes for his handcuffs. Mitch takes advantage of the brief, distracted second, sitting up to head-butt Jason in the face, busting his nose.
If the loud crunch isn't bad enough, dark blood instantly comes pouring out. The blood is so dark it almost looks…black.
Oh my God!
This is his secret. This is why he said it isn't safe for me to be around him. He can't risk anyone finding out he’s a warlock, so that's why he's lived his life alone for so long.
It breaks my heart to know that he's been living in isolation, other than "casual relationships," in constant fear of execution all these years. Knowing the sad truth only makes me want him even more.
Jason’s blood splatters down on Mitch's white t-shirt, and when Jason sees it he freezes.
"Oh fuck!" he mutters as he slams a final fist into Mitch's jaw, knocking him out.
Getting to his feet, Jason untucks the bottom of his black uniform shirt and pulls it up to catch the flowing blood. He looks around at the crowd that has started to gather and then to me.
"So now you know," he says simply.
Thanks to the recent influx of D.R.A. public service announcements on TV and the internet, everyone has been reminded what black blood means.
"Do you still want to come with me?" he asks, and whether he’s being sarcastic or serious I’m not sure. The answer is the same either way.
"Yes," I tell him without hesitation.
He smiles around the shirt pressed against his face and reaches his free hand out to me. "Then let's go."
I know if I take it, my entire life will change from that moment on, but I don't care. I just want to be with him. We’ve both been alone in the world for too long.
Chapter Seven
Jason
One second I’m in heaven kissing Cyn and the next I’m brawling with that son of a bitch, my secret is out, and we’re fugitives on the run. I know it’s dangerous to ask her to come with me when I don’t know where the hell we’re going, but when it came down to it, I just couldn't leave her. God I hope I don’t get her killed. I wonder if there’s a way I could work around the spell for invincibility, since she'll never be able to do what needs to be done for it.
"Where are we going?" she asks after a few blocks.
"I need to grab Max and a few things from my apartment before it's too late."
"Then what?"
"No fucking clue."
When we get to my building thankfully there are no police cars, which is a good sign, but we take the stairs to the fourth floor to be safe. I see a note taped to my door as soon as we come out onto the hallway, but can't read the handwritten message on it until we’re right at the door.
"Pick up the fucking phone."
So they really di
d know when I was going to be outed.
"What's that about?" Cyn asks, as I unlock the door and jerk the note down.
"No clue. It's the same words from the note I told you about. I guess it means they're going to call. Can I get you to grab something for me while I change?"
"Yeah, of course."
"There's a safe in the closet, code is 11-18-11, grab the box inside," I tell her as I strip out of the bloody shirt. I go into the bathroom and wash my face and hands clear off all traces of black blood, then cram pieces of toilet paper up my nose.
After grabbing a clean shirt and a baseball hat, we’re ready. I throw the tackle box into a small duffle bag with a wad of cash and the pictures of Liz and my mom, leaving everything else behind. I've just put the leash on Max when my phone rings, but I don't have time to even look at it. We need to get the hell out of the building, the sooner the better.
Once the three of us hit the street we walk swiftly towards an alley. I finally lead us out of sight to grab my phone when it rings again.
"Hello?"
"You're going to be difficult, I can already tell," the man on the other line says with a hint of an accent, followed by a sigh.
"Who is this?"
"Sebastian, your ride out of the city. Do you know where the DC D.R.A. office is located?"
"Yeah, of course."
"We'll pick you up out in front."
"Are you fucking nuts?" I ask.
"I love irony, and this is a big ‘fuck you’ to those bastards. We're in a big white bus. Can't miss it," he laughs, then hangs up.
"Who was that?" Cyn asks, looking at what's probably a confused expression on my face.
"Someone like me," I tell her. Peeking out the alley entrance I make sure it’s all clear before taking off in the direction of the D.R.A. building on Seventeenth Street.