The Awakening s-1

by L. L. Foster

  Oh no. Did she look different again? Had she changed, as both he and Mort claimed she did?

  The panic had just started when, voice rough, Luther instructed, "Don't think, Gaby. Give me your tongue. I'm going to suck on it so you can see how it feels."

  At his instruction, worrisome thoughts scattered.

  She didn't need any more encouragement than that. Gaby plastered herself to him and mimicked what he'd done to her.

  Luther moved closer so that his whole body pressed hers. But, oddly, he didn't touch her with his hands. He kept them flattened on the brick wall at either side of her head.

  He freed his mouth with a groan. "Gaby?" He kissed her chin, her jaw. "I'm sorry, but we have to stop or I'm going to lose it."

  For one of the few times in her life, she couldn't think of a single smart retort.

  "Here's the thing." Putting his cheek to hers, he whispered directly into her ear. "As good as that feels to us both, it's so much better when it's not just a tongue you're sucking on."

  Oral sex. Images worked through her mind, vivid and sensual, making her acutely aware of Luther's body against hers. "You're hard."

  "I keep imagining your mouth on me, and hell yeah, I'm hard."

  She could see why. The idea excited her, too. "As long as you're being so talkative and honest, I have another question."

  "God help me."

  Because she had to know. Gaby asked with tentative uncertainty, "Do I look different right now?"

  Luther kissed the bridge of her nose, her forehead, her chin. "You look sexy. Turned on. But also a little afraid." His warm smile took the insult from the words. "All reasonable reactions from a virgin."

  "But I don't look… weird?"

  He smoothed back her hair—and measured his words. "I'll admit that you change so much, I can't keep up. And yes, you look different from how you normally look." The smile evaporated, replaced by concern and reassurance. "But never would I use the word weird. Just different, Gaby."

  Shit. Ashamed, she turned her face away, and Luther brought it back around.

  "Your features are sharper, more defined. Stronger. But you're still you, Gaby. No doubt about it. And I like you. A lot. So whatever affliction alters your appearance, please don't let it add to your sadness."

  Her sadness. Gaby frowned. Luther saw too much, and made her care far too easily.

  Recognizing her expression, he said, "Here we go," with a lot of resignation.

  "I'm not afraid, smart-ass, just curious and a little confused."

  He widened his stance and looked down his nose at her. "About what?"

  "All this sucking business. I mean…" She nudged her belly against his erection. "I might be unschooled on sexual things, but I understand anatomy, so I see how it'd work on you. But for a woman…"

  The sound he made was half laugh, half groan. "You'll have to trust me on this. Women have other places that are equally… receptive to a tongue, or a soft suck."

  "Where?"

  He groaned again. "I can't talk about this anymore." Leaning back to look at her, he whispered, "But one of these days, I'd like to show you."

  "Yeah, well, don't hold your breath. What either of us wants won't matter in the long run. Sex for me isn't likely."

  She couldn't see it anywhere in her immediate future, for sure.

  Though she'd like to.

  Especially now, after this little demonstration from Luther. "That's why I shouldn't have asked you about this, I guess. But Mort wouldn't tell me—"

  "I'd have punched him if he had."

  Gaby shoved Luther back the length of her arms. "Mort is my friend now. Don't hurt him."

  "I was kidding. He's my friend, too." He put his forehead to hers. "But I'd rather you come to me with those types of questions. Okay?"

  "I don't know. I don't like feeling this way. I meant it when I told you it was cruel to get all this started. There's so much that we still have to do. Those cancerous things are still loose and someone hit you in the head, and Dr. Marton—"

  Yet again, his hand covered her mouth. "I'm sorry if I've frustrated you, Gaby, if I've made you more aware of things you wanted to pretend didn't exist. But I don't want you involved with any of my police work."

  She fried him with her gaze.

  Disgruntled, Luther sighed. "I can handle it, I swear."

  She shook her head. He couldn't, and that was the plain simple truth.

  Just that easily, Luther turned back into a cop instead of a lover. He released her and took a step away. "Damn it, Gaby, promise me you won't get involved."

  "I can promise you I will." She sidled out from between the wall and his bricklike body. "And before you start threatening to arrest me again, remember that you gave me your word, too."

  "Only to keep our conversation last night between the two of us."

  Anger sent the lust away. "Fine. So I could trust you last night, but not today? I should have realized that. I won't make the mistake again."

  She turned to walk away, and Luther caught her arm.

  Bad temper had her swinging before she thought better of it. Luckily, given his concussion, he twisted enough that her fist landed on his shoulder and not his already injured head.

  "Enough."

  His blustering didn't faze her. She lowered her fists and curled her lip. "Let me guess. Horniness makes you meaner than usual."

  Left eye twitching, Luther stared at her. His eyes narrowed more. Then he nodded. "I suppose it does."

  That reply so took her by surprise, Gaby almost grinned. The lighthearted feeling was so alien to her that it left her disconcerted. "And you call me dangerous."

  "Gaby, wait."

  "For what? You want to tease me more?"

  "No, actually…" He straightened to his full height. "I want to ask you out on a date."

  "Are you out of your fucking mind?"

  Well, Luther thought, he should have expected just such a reaction. On some topics, Gaby could be very predictable.

  Especially when she made cavalier confessions about stabbing rapists in the dead of the night.

  It wasn't easy, but Luther tamped down his temper again. The best way to protect Gaby and to learn all her secrets—secrets he felt certain would help unravel his current mystery'—was to get closer to her.

  He liked that idea on several levels, only one of them being personal interest.

  If it turned out she really was just a confused, mixed-up product of her upbringing, great. But if she was somehow involved with the murder of that man, and his attack, he'd prosecute her just as he would any other criminal.

  Regardless of how it'd hurt him to do so.

  He'd thought about it, and he knew how to counter the many arguments she'd have against a growing relationship. "No, I'm sane enough. I think."

  He eyed her head to toe. The mysterious shifting of her features had faded away. She once again looked like regular Gaby Cody, tall, thin, mean-tempered, too sensitive and too guarded, and far too alone.

  "Forget it." She started out of the alley.

  "No."

  Going rigid with disbelief, she jerked around to face him. "What do you mean, no?"

  "No, I won't forget about it. Don't be a coward. Gaby. Give me a chance."

  Her chin tucked in and her eyes narrowed to furious slits. "Coward?"

  "It's not a big deal. I'm not proposing we go to a fancy dinner or anything. In fact, what I have planned is totally casual. You won't even have to change clothes."

  "I couldn't if I wanted to, you ass. I don't own anything different!"

  That stymied him. So Gaby always dressed in that hideous getup? "You don't own—"

  As if regretting that confession, she pressed her mouth together.

  "Why?"

  Giving nothing away, she said, "I don't have much to spend, and I'm no more interested in fashion than I am in television or music or playing."

  "So you literally wear the same clothes, day in and day out."

  H
er chin went up. "Yes."

  "Do you at least have colorful pajamas?"

  "I sleep naked."

  He did not need to know that. Best to get things back on track before he totally lost sight of his purpose. "What you're wearing is perfect for what I have in mind."

  "Slumming?"

  She could be so defensive. "No, actually, but it is casual. I'll be in jeans, too. So… Thursday at six? I'd say tomorrow or the next day, but I have some things to tend to first—"

  "Like checking out the treatment center for the indigent?"

  Glad that he could accommodate her on that, Luther nodded. "Yes."

  "And making sure that Ms. Davies gets a proper burial?"

  Because it mattered to her, he said, "Yes, I'll check into that."

  "Axe you screwing that female cop?"

  The rapid-fire change in subject threw Luther. "Who? Ann?"

  "I think that was her name. The pretty one who came to play basketball with you."

  "No, I'm not."

  "How many female cops do you know?"

  "Several." He studied Gaby, wondering where her thoughts were taking her. "Women have all the same positions in the police force as men, though I'd say men still outnumber them."

  "So which ones are you screwing?"

  He should have been used to her language by now. She didn't use it to be deliberately crude or off-putting. Luther honestly thought she knew no other way, and understanding that only increased the mystery surrounding her. "I'm not intimate with any of them."

  Gaby scoffed, but otherwise didn't look the least bit concerned about his personal life. "When you first saw me today, you hauled me away because you didn't want your friend Ann to see me, right?"

  "Yes." The Inquisition couldn't have been this difficult.

  "Why? Were you afraid I'd embarrass you?"

  "No." Very little would ever get past Gaby. Luther crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on the brick wall. "The truth is, I'm still uncertain how involved you might be with certain things going on."

  "The filleted man?"

  While most women would have at least cringed, if not gone hysterical. Gaby acknowledged the gruesome murder with casual disregard.

  "Quit calling him that, but yes. That's who I'm talking about." Among other things. "Not that I'm accusing you of anything, Gaby, but if you are involved, the less anyone else knows about you, the better I'll be able to protect you—"

  "Protect me?" She turned and strode away, saying, "You're an idiot."

  Luther caught up to her. "Because I want to protect you?"

  "Because you think you can. Because you think I'm the one who needs protection."

  "If not you. Gaby, then who?"

  She shook her head—and slanted him a look that made Luther's masculine ego rebel.

  "Me? You think that I need protection?"

  Another look. "You're the one with the fat bandage on his head."

  Son of a bitch! "I was jumped from behind, Gaby."

  "And they say cops are alert. Can't prove it by you, huh?" She headed back toward his car. "Look, just because I let you kiss me and rub yourself against me a little doesn't make you responsible for me."

  The way she put things… She was more blunt than a long-practiced porn star, but as innocent as a child. He supposed most of that could be attributed to being raised partially in foster care, and then later by a priest. An odd mix, that.

  "How far did you get in school?"

  "About eighth grade. Why?"

  That helped explained things further. Most kids learned so much just by being with each other. "How come?"

  "Father homeschooled me." And then under her breath, she added, "But only in things he found important."

  "Like?"

  She shook her head. They neared the court and Gaby stared toward Ann. More kids had joined her, and together they made a ruckus.

  "She's a nice lady, isn't she?"

  "I think so." As they got closer, they could both hear Ann's husky laugh. For some reason, it bothered Luther.

  He didn't want Gaby to draw comparisons to herself.

  "Thursday, at six o'clock, I'm coining by for you, Gaby."

  "It's a free country."

  Damn, but she could be so infuriating. "I want you to be there."

  "If nothing else comes up, I will be."

  Guessing that was the closest he'd get to a promised date, Luther matched his stride to hers. "Can I give you a ride back to your place?"

  "I'll take a bus."

  "I could drive you."

  She stopped beside his car and faced him. "I'd rather take a bus. I don't want to be around you any more today. You're better in small doses."

  Luther propped his hands on his hips. If he didn't have a healthy self-image, he'd be demolished. "All right. But I meant it about Thursday, Gaby. Don't pull out your fists, but there really is no reason to worry about my plans. I promise you'll like it."

  She made a face. "Yeah, well, I liked what you did in the alley too, but it still worries me. A lot. So I'll have to think about Thursday. But I'll try to talk myself into it. I've never been on a date." She let out a breath. "Luther?"

  "Yes?"

  "Promise me you'll be careful, okay? I know I used too much sarcasm before, taunting you for getting taken off guard. But you really do have someone trying to hurt you, and regardless of any suspicions you might have, it's not me."

  "I promise."

  "Good." She tipped her head. "You infuriate me, but I'd hate to see anything happen to you."

  Luther stood there, without words, and watched her leave him.

  He wanted to believe her. He did believe her.

  And that left him more concerned than anything else could have.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Setting the ink aside, Gaby looked at her last drawing, a depiction of a crazed ghoul dying a deserving death under her hands. As a reflection of her current foul disposition, everything now appeared more intense, bigger, darker, and meaner.

  Desire for Luther, foreboding of the strange new evil that taunted her, and rage over her helplessness in both made a strange elixir that Gaby had trouble swallowing. Her appetite had waned, she couldn't keep still, and she desperately wanted God to call her out, to give her the power to do something, anything, other than fret like an old woman.

  But hour after hour, no call came.

  Worse, with Morty dogging her every step, Gaby couldn't track down the mutant atrocity as she'd like. Twice, she had tried going back to the woods to investigate further the freakish happenings and turbulent apparitions festering there.

  But shaking Mort proved impossible. Like a shadow, where she went, he followed.

  Allowing him to befriend her had monumental repercussions. In the name of friendship, Mort now felt free to invade her privacy at will. Several times yesterday, he'd come to her door asking if she'd like a meal, a drink, a walk around the block. Twice today he'd done the same, lingering in the hall even after she'd barked orders for him to get lost.

  No matter how she tried to dissuade him, Mort remained immune to her need for solitude.

  If she sought peace with her thoughts on the front stoop, he joined her in the way of old familiar friends, with nothing much to say, content just to waste an hour together.

  With sturdy locks now on the front door and all the windows, Morty even slept with his apartment door ajar—he claimed because the current circumstances had shaken him and he wanted to feel closer to Gaby.

  She knew it was so that he could hear her come and go.

  The dolt worried for her, and had some harebrained idea about protecting her, probably more from herself than anything or anyone else.

  He suffocated her—but she wasn't hard-hearted enough to tell him so outright.

  In fact, if it weren't for so much evil lurking, Gaby might have enjoyed Mort's persistent companionship.

  To keep from taking her bad temper out on him more than she already had, she spent long hours at her
desk, working on a new story. She wrote out her frustrations and illustrated her worries, and the newest volume in the graphic novel series turned out more powerful than any of the others had.

  Being a paladin hadn't obliterated her more selfish vices—like pride. She swelled with it now as each picture and chunk of dialogue came together to create a compelling story of personal struggle, physical conflict, and ultimate triumph.

  Writing and drawing throughout the night, she finished the piece of pure fiction in half the time it usually took her.

  Having a creative outlet helped—except that Mort and the girl from the alley both showed up in key roles in the story, and the possible ramifications of that wouldn't do. Too many details could give her away, especially since Mort was her biggest fan. If anyone ever connected the stories to her, her goose would be not only cooked but eaten and digested, too.

  She needed anonymous depictions, not factual ones.

  Yet on top of Mort and the girl, Luther's role in the series also expanded into undeniable proportions.

  Not that Gaby made the tough-as-nails angel of justice look anything like Luther Cross. As in most graphic novels, his character took on a larger-than-life appearance, with impossibly broad shoulders and an astonishing handsomeness made cruel by edgy determination and a sharp glint in his eyes.

  He protected with one hand and wreaked devastation with the other.

  The avenging cop in her series was everything Gaby wished the real Luther Cross could be. He saw the futileness of fighting something that had no real boundaries or moral compass, a mutation that could proliferate across families and into friends, could infest minds and bodies as well as souls.

  But Luther wasn't that man. He was merely an above-average servant of the law with keen intuition, overwhelming kindness, and a belief in only what he saw and touched.

  He'd never really believe in Gaby, not with the farfetched realities of her existence.

  Looking down at her hands, Gaby noted new calluses on her fingers and messy ink stains beneath her uneven nails. Assuming Mort would soon return with another song and dance about food or fresh air or whatever else the normal people in the world found helpful in times of stress, she stretched her back, rotated her head on her neck to remove a few kinks and, because she couldn't help herself, glanced at the clock.