Heart of a Warrior

by Theodora Lane

  She bolted down the hall, through the living room, and out the door, slamming it shut behind her before Cho could even say good-bye.

  •

  Nic sat on the couch, arms folded, smoldering anger emanating off him in waves.

  “Nic, stop her!”

  “Forget her, Cho.”

  “Forget her? Are you insane?”

  “No. Forget her. I have.”

  “I can’t do that, Nic. Neither can you.”

  “We have to. She’s gone.”

  “This is so wrong. Can’t you see that?”

  “You’re taking her side now?”

  “There are no sides. Just right and wrong.”

  “Et tu, Brute? Get lost, Cho.” His voice was low and resentful.

  “What?”

  “If you’re not with me, you’re against me.” He stood and faced the tree.

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Get out! If you hurry, you can catch her. Go on!” He shouted at the lizard and flung his arm out, pointing to the door.

  “You don’t mean that.”

  Nic bent and pulled a knife from his boot. He straightened and threw it before Cho could react. The knife stuck in the wall behind the potted tree with a quiet thwang.

  Cho raised himself up, cocked his head, and stared at Nic.

  “I care about you. She loves you. Those bastards in the chamber, they don’t give a shit about you. To them, you’re just a tool. We care. Can’t you trust us?”

  For a long moment, Nic stared at the lizard and then closed his eyes.

  “Shit!”

  Nic stumbled backward, sitting on the floor with a thud. He put his hands in his hair and sat holding his head. The first hot tears he’d shed since his parents died coursed down his cheeks. He dashed them away with his hand.

  “Fiona,” he whispered.

  “What have I done?”

  “Stop her, Nic. Get up off your sorry ass and go after her.”

  Nic jumped to his feet, ran to the door, and flung it open. Her car was gone. He turned back, grabbed the keys to the Jag and ran out, slamming the door behind him.

  Cho looked at the knife, still quivering, embedded in the wall.

  Yeesh. I sure hope he meant to miss.

  — • —

  Driving was becoming dangerous. Fiona could barely see through her tears.

  I need a set of friggin’ wipers on my friggin’ eyes!

  Using her hand to wipe them away wasn’t working, and she really needed to blow her nose. Reaching for her purse to search for a tissue, she moved the steering wheel, and the car swerved. The right front tire went off the blacktop and into the soft dirt. Grabbing the steering wheel with both hands, she let off on the gas, and the car slowed.

  How could she fall in love with him? How could she give him everything? She’d been such a fool. She knew he was going to break her heart.

  I thought he was the one.

  The car limped down the side of the road. Fiona waited for the right time to pull the car back into the lane. Seeing what looked like a good spot ahead, she jerked the wheel. The car went over the lip of the road and slid across into the oncoming lane.

  “Shit!” Fiona jerked the car back into her lane. The car fishtailed across the blacktop and back onto the side of the road.

  The Toyota bumped and jarred its way along the soft shoulder and then slid sideways down the slope. She tried to accelerate, turning the wheel to go up, but the tires spun, kicked up the soft dirt, and churned it under her wheels. There was no controlling the car now, only a slow, downward momentum. Her biggest fear was that the car would roll over, go down the slope, and disappear into the forest below.

  They’ll never find my body.

  At the bottom was a water-filled gully. The car nosedived into it and came to a jolting halt, muddy water spraying onto the windshield. Everything in the car flew forward. Her purse in the front seat spilled onto the front passenger floorboard, and the duffel bag in the backseat flew across the cabin as her head whipped forward, striking the steering wheel. Then, only silence.

  The airbag deployed.

  Fiona cursed.

  Moaning, she rubbed her forehead. Her shoulder where the seat belt had tightened was definitely going to be bruised.

  “Great! Just friggin’ great.” She punched at the worthless, deflated airbag.

  She tried to open her door, but it wouldn’t budge. Dirty water filled the floorboard. Unbuckling the seat belt, she shoved her shoulder against the door, it flew open, and she fell out, into the gully.

  “Shit.” She knelt there as she blinked muddy water out of her eyes. It soaked her clothes and dripped from her hair.

  Looking up the steep slope, Fiona determined she was about twenty feet from the top where the road ran.

  “Climb every mountain. Yeah, right. Nobody mentioned doing it sopping wet.” She flicked her hands, sending mud and water flying, and then wiped them on her wet pants.

  Fiona’s feet slipped in the leaf clutter and soft dirt as she climbed out of the gully and scrambled up the slope. A few steps forward, and if she was lucky, she wouldn’t slide backward.

  No such luck.

  After her second slip, she wound up on her knees, her fingers digging into the soft ground above her to keep from sliding. Sitting back on her heels, she hit the ground with her fist in frustration.

  “Son of a bitch!"

  Fiona heard a car approaching. The deep rumble of the engine sounded like Nic’s Jag, and for a second, a tiny bit of hope sprang up in her. Then she frowned. He wasn’t coming after her, and even if he did, he’d never find her down here.

  She looked back at her sad little car. With all the water, it looked like a total loss, but the insurance would have to decide that.

  “Well, I needed a new car, right?”

  On the highway above, the rumble of a car’s engine grew louder. Maybe she could get some help. If she wanted to catch it, she had to do something, and fast.

  “Damn! Damn! Damn!” The car went past. Well, there was always the next one. Just how often did cars go down this road?

  Fiona looked back at the muddy water. More than anything, she didn’t want to go back in it, but her cell phone was in her purse. She needed her purse too.

  She braced herself and stepped in. Mud squished under her feet. Her shoes were definitely ruined now. She looked inside the car and saw her cell phone lying on the passenger side floor. Time to see if that expensive case she bought really was waterproof.

  Climbing back in, she scooped up her purse and shoveled her stuff back in, but held onto her phone.

  Now if it was dead, she was really in trouble.

  With a deep breath, she leaned against the car, flipped the phone open, pressed the Power button, and waited. It powered up, thank God. As it searched for a signal, Fiona muttered, “Come on. Come on.”

  No signal. It must be the woods. She’d have to climb higher.

  After she put the strap of her purse around her neck and over her shoulder, she shoved her phone in her pants pocket and started climbing.

  Clutching onto roots, grass, and dirt, she made it almost to the top. As she rested, she pulled out her phone and flipped it open.

  At last, she got reception and the power was at full strength. Hitting the Contacts, she scrolled down the list and found Nic’s cell number. She hit Send and waited, listening to the ring.

  “Pick up, Nic…”

  •

  A loud chirping filled the car, and Nic cursed. His cell phone was in the front pocket of his jeans, of course. Getting to it would require him to slow down to a safe enough speed to take his hand off the wheel, lean back to reach in his front pocket, and fish it out.

  “Damn!” He was in no mood to talk to anyone, especially those old bastards from the Council. Slowing to a modest fifty, Nic performed the ballet to retrieve his phone. He flipped it open without looking at the caller ID, anxious to get his hands back on the wheel.

  “N
ic.”

  “Nic! Thank God!” a breathless voice answered.

  “Fiona! Where are you? I’m right behind you on the road.”

  “No, you’re not! I’m not on the road.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I skidded off. My car’s in a gully, filling with water as we speak. I’ve climbed almost to the top near the road.”

  “Jesus! Are you hurt?” He downshifted, hit the brake, and swung the car in a tight turn that would have made James Bond proud. He headed back down the highway. “I just turned around. Where are you?”

  “I’m not sure where I went off. Just slow down, and you should see me.”

  “Sure.” Nic dropped the car into third.

  •

  Fiona crested the top of the small hill and staggered. Not even fighting vampires had made her so tired or irritated. She looked back down at her small car, its nose buried in the mud and water.

  The sound of squealing brakes jerked her around.

  Nic skidded the car to a stop next to her. He stared at her and then laughter exploded from him. “Oh my God! How hot is that?”

  Fiona looked down. Her shirt was plastered to her breasts, her nipples like two bullets poking outward. “Great. Just great.”

  “You look like the mud wrestling winner at the local bar.” He grinned.

  “And like the winner, I can kick your ass.” She flicked him with her fingers, hitting him with drops of dirty water.

  “Hey! Watch it.” Nic chuckled and then sobered as he got out of the car. “Darlin’! Are you all right?” was followed by so many kisses she lost count. Then, as if he didn’t care about getting wet and dirty, Nic crushed her to him. Just as suddenly, he pushed her away. “Sorry! Are you hurt? Did I hurt you just now?”

  “I’m fine, Nic. Just a bump on my head, my shoulder hurts--” She pointed to a red lump “—and I’ve got a few scrapes on my hands and knees from trying to climb out of there.” She held up her palms, to show the damage.

  “Thank God!” He took her hands in his and kissed the muddy scrapes. A splotch of dirt clung to his nose making him look so damn adorable. How did he do it? She looked like a drowned rat.

  She wiped the dirt off with her finger. “I’m so sorry we fought! I shouldn’t have gone against your judgment. I like Annie, and I thought Ivan was very brave. I just can’t stand the thought of you killing someone you consider a friend and having it eat away at you and making you miserable. ” He placed his fingers over her mouth and she stopped.

  “Let’s talk about it later. We need to deal with this right now.” Nic looked over the side of the road at her car. “We’re going to need a tow truck.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Three hours later, the insurance company had been called, the police report filled out, and Fiona sat in the Jag and watched Nic finish with the tow truck driver. Her car hung from its rear end, water dripping from it. It would be taken to the shop Nic used. Her arm was sore, and the bump on her head ached. She had taken way too much damage lately.

  Nic slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Take me to my place, Nic.”

  Nic looked at her for a long time. “I guess we need to talk.”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “I love you, and I don’t want to lose you. But I’m afraid if you do this, if you hunt them down and kill them, you’ll lose yourself.”

  “I’m a warrior. I kill vampires. It’s who I am and what I do.” Nic leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. “How can I be something I’m not?”

  “Life is not black and white. If it were, it’d be easy. Clear cut. Right and wrong. But it’s not like that. There are grays, Nic. All shades.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

  “I never liked gray.” Nic gave a short laugh.

  “I’ll just bet. Some people need a clear line of sight. You know, no obstructions. Others thrive on going around, weaving their way through those obstacles. It’s hard for one type of person to see like another. Sometimes, you’re forced.”

  “Because of the gray.” His eyes were still closed.

  She nodded. “And because of the way it makes you feel inside. This just feels so wrong.”

  “I suppose you’re good at seeing the gray?”

  “Maybe it comes easier to me, that’s all. I can still see in black-and-white. There’s always black-and-white.”

  “If I see the gray in this instance, where does it stop?” He turned to her, opened his eyes, and searched hers for answers.

  Fiona looked out of the window at the trees. “Even in the military, they’re allowed to disobey orders they know are wrong.”

  “I’m not in the military.” He rubbed his hand over his jeans and then picked at a piece of imagined dust on the steering wheel.

  “No, but it’s the same. You receive orders. You obey them. The men in that room, they aren’t infallible, Nic. And you know for a fact they were being used. Maybe they still are.” She looked at him.

  Nic was quiet for a long time.

  “I’ll take you home. I need to think.” Nic started the car.

  Fiona leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to be without him. They both needed to think. Some time apart. She hated the sound of those words; they made her stomach hurt.

  He pulled up to her house, and she got out of the car. Would this be the last time she’d ever see Nic?

  “I’ll call you.”

  “Right.” She’d heard that line before.

  He pulled away. Fiona watched until he turned the corner and disappeared. Then she trudged up the drive to her house, her shoes squishing with each step.

  — • —

  Nic swung the sword in slow, graceful moves. Tai Chi with the sword, each move smooth. Effortless. Deadly. As his mind ran through the well-practiced moves, it drifted, working through his problems. When he was sixteen and his parents had been killed, he’d done the same thing, only it was shooting baskets. He’d stand on the concrete driveway of his uncle’s home and shoot hoops for hours, making shot after shot.

  What was Zeke was doing? He could sure use a good talk over a couple of beers. Maybe he should call him. The time they’d spent growing up without Mom and Dad had forced them into a closer brotherhood than before.

  When Zeke had turned the Council down, Nic couldn’t understand it. As he went through his moves, he could still remember when Zeke left to go his own way. They’d argued all night about taking the Council’s offer.

  “No way, Nic. I’m not going to let a bunch of people I don’t even know tell me what to do.” Zeke shook his head so hard his long black ponytail swung back and forth.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to pass up this opportunity. The training. They’d pay for college, even.”

  “They’re buying you, brother. Lock, stock, and barrel. No one gives you anything for free.”

  “I’m not their slave, Zeke.”

  “Maybe not now, but that day will come.”

  Nic stopped his workout. A fine mist of sweat covered his body. Barely breathing hard, he sheathed the sword.

  Zeke had always been the smarter brother.

  — • —

  Fiona lay on her bed. Alone. That word echoed in her head. She had never been aware of being alone until she met Nic. Now the aloneness was palatable. Heavy, sober. As if she could feel it weighing down on her. Smothering her.

  She sat up, sucking in air. She needed to be doing something. She got off the bed and headed down the hall. Opening the door to her weapons room, she stood in the middle of the room surveying the weapons. Nothing looked good to her. She left, closing the door behind her.

  Down the hall to the kitchen. Open the fridge. Stand there, stare into it, and then shut the door.

  “This is nuts,” Fiona muttered. She pulled out bread and a jar of peanut butter. After making a sandwich, she sat at the counter to eat it.

  Nic was Nic. If she loved him, did she have the right to ask him to change? Just for her?

&nbs
p; “No, for himself.” She took a bite and chewed. Of course, it stuck to the roof of her mouth. She went to the fridge and got some milk. After she poured a glass, she took a big sip, chewed, and swallowed.

  “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  No one answered. That was the problem. No one was there to answer. How could someone get so far under your skin in only a few days? She felt as if a part of her was missing.

  “If I never see him again, can I live through this? Will I feel like this forever?” she asked the walls of the kitchen. She listened for an answer, but only the sound of the fridge running answered.

  She missed Cho and his smart-ass answers.

  If she didn’t accept Nic’s decision now, the chances she could do it later were slim. If she wanted to be with him, did it have to be on his terms, not hers? Certainly there had to be a way to compromise.

  She laughed. Gray trying to force black-and-white to be gray. When that was done, where did it leave Nic? Especially since he was a stubborn, hardheaded man, used to answering to no one except himself and a room full of old men.

  He would no longer be Nic; he’d be changed into some lesser form of Nic. That couldn’t be better, could it? Was she asking too much? Nic was strong, determined, and independent; he had that damn male pride. She loved him the way he was. Why did she feel if she made him bend to her way of thinking, he’d break?

  And if he broke, she wasn’t sure she could put the pieces back together. Couldn’t she be strong enough to bend without breaking?

  After taking a last swallow of her milk, she washed out her glass. She needed to get a rental car. She opened the yellow pages and found the number of one that would deliver the car to her.

  While she dialed the number, she made her decision.

  — • —

  Fiona pulled up outside of Nic’s house in her new rental car, a silver Impala. She’d buy a new car as soon as the insurance money came through. Of course, she couldn’t afford anything like Nic’s car.

  Looking at the Jag, she guessed the old geezers paid well.

  She could do this. She loved him enough to bend.

  Then why do I still feel so bad?

  She got out of the car, walked up to the door, and knocked.

  Nic opened the door almost immediately.