by Mandy Rosko
"Alright, alright, fine." She didn't want to hear about how easy it was for him to get a woman. When he stopped ranting she felt her insides become warm again, like a teenager making progress on a crush. She repeated his words inside her head and enjoyed the tingling they produced along her skin. "So, you really like me?"
She couldn’t stop the stupid grin from taking over her features. Luckily the entertained smirk on Kyle’s lips told her he didn't mind.
The window behind him exploded before he could open his mouth to reply. A punching sting pierced Jackie’s arm, pushing her, and she fell to the floor.
***
Kyle crouched down and vaulted himself to where Jackie lay. A shower of glass sprayed on top of her and lay in several places beneath her body.
He saw her take the hit before the pressure of the bullet threw her back. Oh God, what if she was dead?
She groaned when his hand wrapped around her good arm. His heart sped up as he turned her. She opened her bright blue eyes and blinked at him through her crooked glasses. One of the lenses was cracked.
"I fell?"
He blew out a quick laugh, covered her with his jacket and righted her glasses. "Yeah, let me make sure everything's safe. Put pressure on that, and don't move. There's glass all around you."
He pulled his gun from its holster and crouch-walked back to the broken window. Cold air blasted inside, bringing swirls of snow from the roof and tree branches. He shot his head out once before ducking back to safety. He saw nothing the first time so he looked again, slower.
The street was quite aside from the lights in the neighboring apartments turning on and people in slippers, housecoats, and thick winter jackets coming out to see what had happened.
He crouched back down and went to where Jackie lay, clutching her bleeding shoulder. She stared and waited for him to tell her it was safe.
He brushed some hair from her eyes and removed bits of glass from the strands. "I think they're gone, but we won't move for a minute just in case." He looked around for her phone, but it wasn't on the hook on the wall, or within sight. "Where's your phone, you need an ambulance."
Her eyes were wide on him. "You were in front of the window."
He nodded, trying to be gentle. "Right, I wasn't the target."
She was the target, and he would do a better job to keep the curtains shut from now on. He pulled back his jacket and lifted her soaking sweater to have a look. A small, clean bullet hole said hello to him. He reached his hand underneath her and didn't find an exit wound.
She shook her head, not so much as whimpering at his touch. "That’s not what I meant. I can't believe you're not dead." Nervous laughter burst from her like a busted water pipe, and the tears came next in similar fashion.
Even though she’d been the one to get shot, she was scared for him. Didn’t matter right now, he’d dwell on that later. Right now he had to make sure she didn’t bleed to death before help arrived.
He knew it was best to not move her, but he couldn’t leave her under that window lying on a pool of broken glass. In the end he lifted her into a sitting position and wrapped his arm around her while cradling her head.
"I'm alright, don't worry,” he said. “Everything's going to be alright." He rubbed her hair in what she probably thought were soothing motions, but really he was checking for any broken glass and picking out the pieces he did find. “I’m going to get you some help.”
The door behind them knocked and Kyle had his weapon in hand and pointed, ready to kill anyone who came inside. Jackie froze in his arms, not daring to breathe.
"Hello?" An older, uncertain voice called from behind the door. "I—I was just wondering if everything was alright? I heard some noise."
"Mrs. Harlen." Jackie said.
"I'll have you stay with her." Kyle said, lifting her to stand and lean against the wall. "We've had an accident." He called back, rushing for the door.
When he pulled open the door Mrs. Harlen promptly tightened her bathrobe around herself as a shield against the chill.
“What in the world is going on in here?” She looked behind him and saw the broken window and glass scattered on the floor, her wrinkled mouth fell open and quivered. "My … I heard a crash but didn't expect … How is—?"
Kyle opened the door a little wider for her. "She's fine, right here. Watch the glass," he said when she ran in, hands and arms waving frantically before embracing Jackie in a hug and kissing both of her cheeks. "What happened? What happened to your hand?"
Kyle and Jackie both looked at the hand that Mrs. Harlen was gaping at. Blood dripped from her fingertips and onto the floor.
Mrs. Harlen’s eyes moved up and saw the hole in her sweater, then the bullet hole behind it. “Your arm.”
"I don't even really feel it," she said, shrugging the shoulder that bled down her red sweater.
Kyle’s neck tensed. She’d feel it later when the adrenaline wore off.
"She can't stay here. She needs to stay with you until an ambulance arrives." Kyle said.
"Well, of course. You come along right now. Oh! Wait a minute."
Kyle watched, fascinated while Mrs. Harlen buzzed around the kitchen and grabbed a broom to sweep a clear path for Jackie's bare feet. He didn't want to tell the older woman that he would have carried her, but she'd already done the job and Jackie seemed able, and luckily, alert and calm for someone who'd just had a hole put in them, so he let them go.
Mrs. Harlen put her arms around Jackie as though sheltering a small child. “I’ll sit you down and give you a nice cup of tea and hot breakfast to warm you up. You’re hands are so cold, dear.”
Kyle sighed. If that old lady was going to feed Jackie then she might not pass out from blood loss. “Keep her awake. Come get me if she falls asleep and you can’t wake her.”
"Call an ambulance and then call Carter." Jackie said over her shoulder before the door shut behind them.
He didn’t need to be told, but she was shot in her own apartment, so she could be as demanding as she liked.
Kyle located the phone with much cushion turning and made the call. He hung up and ran downstairs and out into the cold. People needed to be questioned and prompted to stay where they were before leaving.
Pointing at the broken window, he asked anyone standing outside if they'd seen anything. The answer was continuously no, at most he got the screech of tires but not one person saw a car, truck, or van. They only heard the vehicle and then the explosion of a gun and the glass.
This was exactly what he told Carter when the man arrived with several uniformed officers and paramedics three minutes later.
"I'll have to have them questioned again anyway," he said. "Procedure and all, plus the people you probably missed who are still inside, but I trust you."
"I'm surprised." Kyle muttered. "Considering the lousy job I'm doing."
Carter had the nerve to cock his head as though he didn't understand. "I don't know too much about the business of being a bodyguard, but I'm pretty sure that kind of talk is dangerous and does not come with the job. Should I remove you from it and have someone else watch her?"
The question almost knocked him off his feet. He had to put a clamp on his anger and force a professional face. "No. I am the best qualified to protect her and was merely blowing off steam."
Even his explanation sounded weak.
Carter looked him up and down. "Next time, keep your self-pitying mutters to yourself, or I will pull you from the job. You’re not technically a bodyguard anymore so it wouldn’t be hard."
Kyle nodded and decided to just put it behind him. "Feral vampires didn't do this," he said, nodding towards the broken window on the third floor. “From what I’ve seen, and lived, vampires don’t need guns.”
Carter sighed and stuck his thumbs in his pockets. "Yeah, I figured. Which could only mean that whoever is running this operation was the one to shoot the window, or he, or she," he said, giving Kyle a pointed look. "got a henchman to do it for him."
"Could that mean there are no more feral vampires for the killer to use?" Kyle said, his mind racing. "For someone to want to kidnap, starve, and house several feral vampires you would need a large space to do that, wouldn't you?"
Carter made a so-so motion with his hand. "Depends really. I've read a case, an older case mind you, of a family who kidnapped a couple of vampires, for no reason really, bunch of nuts just wanted to have a few extra pets I guess, to see how long it would take them to die.
“There were three of them, locked up in a single cage in their basement on an isolated farm. No one knew about this until one day a friend of the wife decides to go in and check on them because a month passed without word. She found them all dead, ripped to shreds around the house. The cops get there, find the bloody cage in the basement and put it all together. So a large space for each feral isn't a necessity. But if our killer knows enough about vamps and their history, he, might be smart enough to keep them in separate cages. That way, if one gets out …"
"They don't all get out." Kyle finished, shaking his head. He’d been sure for a few seconds that space was needed, but if not they still didn’t have much at all. "Thought I was onto something for a minute."
"Doesn't make it not possible, but we did already check out a few places. Abandoned warehouses and whatnot, even the rental storage spaces. Nothing. But like I said, you don't need a large space to do this; however, I do think you're right. If this happened in daylight then it's likely there are no more feral vampires at hand."
Kyle was glad for that, and worried for any vampire who might get caught up with whoever was responsible for all of this.
The blood and violence surrounding him made him want for something simple and good. He needed to see Jackie. Confirm that she was still in one piece now that she’d been taken from Mrs. Harlen’s care. "I’m going to the hospital. I need to make sure she’s alright."
Carter scratched his nose, looking like it was the last thing he wanted to hear from him. "I need to question Jackie about anything she might remember. You can have a lift if you want."
***
Jackie loved morphine. By the time she got around to feeling the pain in her shoulder she realized that getting shot really hurt, and morphine was a Godsend.
"This stuff should be sold in corner stores." She giggled.
Kyle smiled at her and brushed aside her hair. She smiled back.
"You always do that."
"Do what?"
"Touch my hair." Her eyes slid sluggishly shut and open.
"I happen to like your hair, Gorgeous."
"I bet it looks bad right now."
"A little. But the flowers Mrs. Harlen brought brighten this place up, so you can't really notice it."
“I’m spoiled. People keep giving me roses.” She laughed, and then became somber again. "I hope Mike finds who shot out my window." She put her hand up to hide her twisting face and cried. "Someone shot at me."
She vaguely heard Kyle pushing his chair back and then felt him cup her face in his hands. "They'll find who did this, and I won't sleep if it means keeping you safe."
She removed her hand, with some reluctance as she knew that the makeup she carefully applied in her bathroom was ruined. The tears leaking from her now swollen eyes made tracks through her cover-up. He brushed her remaining tears away with his thumbs.
She shook her head and looked at her arm, heavily bandaged and in a sling. It would be maybe a week before her arm was at one hundred per cent again thanks to the magic of … well, magic. But the idea that she was in the hospital and needed treatment because someone wanted to kill her made her tear up.
"It wasn't ferals. Ferals don't shoot you." It was the second time this happened. There was no mistaking it like with her mother’s store.
He nodded. "I know."
She felt his lips press into her hair, her forehead, and then her lips. She lifted her hand to hold his much rougher hand that lay on top of her cheek.
When he pulled away his face remained so close their lips never parted. "How about I teach you how to defend yourself?"
FIFTEEN
Someone really was out to get her.
Now that she wasn't so blurry in the head from the morphine the thought sent tingling shivers down Jackie's spine. She struggled to think of what she could have ever done to deserve this, but then, what had those vamps done to deserve being turned into monsters against their will? What had Margaret and Charles Clayton done to deserve what had happened to them? Whoever was behind all this was pure evil.
Even though Kyle suspected Charity, Jackie hesitated to point her finger merely because of the history they had together. They certainly hadn’t known each other their whole lives, but five years was long enough to build a deep friendship. Though they hadn't spoke in some time, Jackie prayed that she knew Charity well enough to be able to say for sure that it wasn't her.
Though, she wasn't sure of much of anything anymore.
"So what are you going to teach me?" She asked, hoping that whatever Kyle had in mind was going to be badass enough to keep her safe should she ever be without him. Another thing she prayed would never happen. If she'd been alone when she was shot she probably would have lay there on the glass for hours until she built up the courage to move and call for help.
Or until someone came to finish her off.
He sat a little straighter, all emotion draining from his face and being replaced with the serious persona of the teacher. "Well, considering your arm, and that you've never had any self defense teachings before this, we'll have to start with the most basic of defense techniques. The stuff they teach women and children nowadays who aren't really up for a few years of karate class."
"Great." If she felt helpless laying on the floor of her own apartment then it was nothing compared to being told she’d have to start at the level of a child.
Kyle found her amusing enough to chuckle and plant a quick kiss on her lips. The kiss jarred the extra pair of glasses he’d brought for her and she straightened them.
"Don't worry, you'll be fine."
She pouted. "You're getting better at reading my emotions if you're having such an easy time of it when you're human."
"I certainly haven't felt normal ever since I met you."
She blushed.
He plowed on. “Something that you don’t need any training on is the way you do magic anyway.”
“But every time I try any magic stuff usually gets blown up.”
His head jerked back a bit. “What?”
She groaned, hating that she had to explain this to him. “Remember when I said that I’m the only witch in town who blows things up?”
He nodded.
“I wasn’t kidding. When I told you that I wished I was more like you, it wasn’t just … I mean. Well, I’m a pretty lousy witch.”
“Because you blow things up?”
She looked away and nodded.
“I remember your mother once saying something about your magic skills.”
Jackie threw her head back on the pillow. “Great.”
“I don’t think she meant anything by it.”
Jackie felt the familiar resentment rising inside of her. “She never does.”
Kyle cleared his throat. “How strong would you say these little explosions of yours are?”
She cocked her head. “Uh, well I’ve never measured them, but it can destroy a ceramic mug into pretty much nothing.”
His face lit up. “Well, there you have it. If anyone ever attacks you, just use your magic on them.”
She stared at him deadpan. “You want me to blow up a person?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “If that person is trying to kill you, then, yeah, go for it. Always remember that it’s better him than you.”
“Huh,” She leaned back in her bed and smiled. “I’ve never thought there could be a use for my useless magic.”
Blowing up your attackers. That was something that sounded really badass.
“There’s always a use for something. The last thing I want is to see you get hurt, so you just keep that idea in your head if you’re ever in a position where you need to fight back. If you’re in a position where you can’t fight back, say you’re trapped or something, remember to always stay calm, take deep and even breaths, and observe your surroundings. Find possible hiding places, exits, and weapons. Ten seconds of that can save your life.”
He was really serious about making sure she could take care of herself. She could read it in his eyes. It made her ashamed of the things she’d said to him before.
Jackie wet her lips. "Listen, I think we need to talk."
Again he became serious and sat straight, away from her, and cleared his throat. "Alright."
She squirmed under his stare. "I don't think, for obvious reasons, that you're only hanging around anymore because of what I can do for you—"
"Good, because I've been meaning to tell you about that."
She blinked a few times. "Tell me what?"
He kept his face straight. "I like kissing you, and not just because your lips turn me back every night. I really like kissing you, but the fact is that it's unprofessional if I'm going to be the one seeing to your safety. So from now on, I think we need to stop doing that."
She couldn’t believe him. "Earlier today you said you cared for me."
Confusion covered his face. “I do care for you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You also told me you were tired of holding back because of the promise you made.”
His steady gaze offered zero negotiation on the subject. “And that was true, before you were shot, that is. So until all of this is over it might be better if I didn’t distract myself by kissing you.”
She couldn’t help the disappointment that washed over her. “Oh,”
She perked up a bit. “What about during the day?”
He shook his head. “No. You were just shot in your own home in the daylight. I don’t think you’re any safer just because the sun is up. Not anymore.”
She couldn’t believe him. His nerve. He told her he cared for her only a few hours ago! She clenched her fists into her blankets. “You want me to pretend what you said about caring about me never happened.”