Edge of Instinct: Rabids Book 1

by Amy Cook

  “I leave for half an hour and y’all are over here sniffin’ at her heels already.” He shoved past Darvey, then softly moved around Amiel to put the bags in his arms on the floor. Darvey flushed at Harley’s statement, glaring daggers at his back.

  “I was bringing over the bag that was left at the gate for her. The one I tried to bring by earlier.” His statement edged toward sparking another fight, but was said in a politely strained tone. Harley nodded with a cheesy grin on his face.

  “Great. Trade ya.” He plucked the garbage bags from Amiel’s hands, shoving them into Darvey’s in exchanged for the backpack. Darvey’s face reddened, hands shaking where they clutched the bags. Then to Amiel’s surprise, he plastered a smile on his face, said thank you between clenched teeth, then turned and walked away. Harley watched him walk away with narrowed eyes, brow drawn down in confusion. He turned to look at Amiel who smiled sweetly, feeling slightly triumphant. Maybe there was hope for this situation after all. Harley dipped his head a little, looking her in the eye.

  “Don’t go gettin’ that look in your eye, kid. I heard what y’all said in the hall.”

  “Oh? Which part?” she asked innocently.

  “Don’t be gettin’ any ideas about him and me gettin’ along. He’s just like the rest of ‘em.”

  “But maybe if he could learn to get along with you, if he knew I wouldn’t stand for that kind of behavior…maybe you wouldn’t have to worry about being in trouble at work anymore.” Harley shook his head and started digging in the bags.

  “Look, I appreciate what you said about me, Thumbelina. I really do. No one sticks up for us that way, and it was nice to hear.” She warmed at his appreciation. “But you’re just gonna drag yourself down with us. It’s good that ya stand up for yourself to jerk-faces like Denton, but y’all really shouldn’t do it with anyone else, not for us.”

  “But…”

  “They’ll never look at Hybrids as anythin’ more than their high tech war toys, Amiel. So long as we do what they tell us to, there’s no problems. But if we end up goin’ what they consider ‘haywire’, they get rid of us. Plain and simple. And anyone that took a chance on standin’ by us would take the beatin’ too.” She swallowed hard, stomach feeling heavy at the way he said ‘get rid of us’.

  “That sounds an awful like slavery to me,” she muttered quietly. Harley shrugged but made no effort to contradict her. “What do you mean that they get rid of you? Would it be so bad if they let you go? You could come work at the diner with me. You could have a battle of glares with Sunshine.” She chuckled, trying to add some humor to what was beginning to feel like an entirely too scary concept.

  “Can’t do much glarin’ from the grave, kid.” Her mouth fell open, eyes wide with horror. Harley looked up at her silence, then sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. “Sorry, kid, I ain’t much good at sugar coatin’ stuff like Caj is.” She closed her mouth, trying to get a grip.

  “No, I’m sorry. I don’t want you to have to sugar coat things for me. I just…you’re really serious though? They would…they would kill you?” Harley nodded solidly, meeting her gaze unflinchingly.

  “Facts of life, Thumbelina.” She saw nothing in his eyes to say that he felt the matter was unjust. He’d accepted his lot in life. Anger rose within, choking her.

  “How can they do that? You’re human beings, not just some…some…broken appliance they can throw out when it doesn’t work anymore!” Harley smirked at her tirade, which made her even more upset. “How can you be so blasé about this? It’s your life! They could just decide at any moment that you aren’t to their liking, and poof, you’re dead! And Darvey…” She gasped, thinking of his threats. The comment ‘Foundation will have your head’ no longer sounded like a typical ‘you’re fired’ threat. They’d literally have his head. Now she wished she’d punched him in the face when he came to her door. “That rat! That sneaking conniving little rat! Trying to make me believe he would make an effort to be better and nicer to you, when he’d literally just threatened your life!” Harley burst out in an honestly heartfelt laugh, and if she hadn’t been so worked up right now, the sight of the sparks it brought to his eyes would have stunned her. Harley wiped at a tear in his eye, grinning broadly at her.

  “Ya know, you’re ‘bout as scary as a drenched kitten right now. But I like that spunk kid, keep it.” Still grinning he shoved a white bag in her hands. “Now stop gettin’ that dander up and eat.” She opened her mouth to protest but he held up a hand, eyes serious. “I mean it, Amiel. These are the hard facts of life, and They ain’t the kind of people you march ‘round protestin’ with paper signs and kitty dander.” She scowled and he ruffled her hair good naturedly.

  “It was in the contract when we signed up darlin’. We knew what we were gettin’ into. They gotta have protocols in place for when things go wrong, and we gotta trust that they won’t abuse that. ‘Sides, even if they just fired me, ain’t no one gonna hire somebody with this on his neck.” He pointed to the wolf tattoo before settling back into digging in his bags. Amiel glumly opened the warm bag in her hands. It was filled to the brim with glazed donuts. She let out a nearly orgasmic groan, biting into one of the fluffy confections. Harley grunted in what she assumed was approval, probably grateful her mouth was too busy eating to be arguing. She watched as he pulled a drill and a few other tools out of his bag.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as politely as possible with a mouthful of donut.

  “You never got them locks on like ya said ya would.” He looked up at her disapprovingly, but she could tell he wasn’t really mad at her.

  “Oh. I’ve been really busy.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. Servin’ coffee, rescuin’ drenched Hybrids, and fendin’ off rats,” he replied gruffly. She smiled softly at his casual mentioning of her efforts to help him. It was nice to finally have that little obstacle out of the way, the knowledge of what his secret was, out in the open. She frowned down at her donut. She knew his secret, but he still didn’t know hers and it made her feel like a cheat; though the thought of telling him about her secret made her break out into a cold sweat. Coward, she censured herself.

  “So, you play Batman at night, and fix-it man during the day?” His nose wrinkled in a way that was entirely too adorable for his tough guy demeanor. She didn’t say a word about it though, knowing he’d never do it again if she pointed it out.

  “Batman? Batman’s a pathetic jelly donut. He’s a little Richie Rich that prances ‘round in fancy tights and dress up panties, too much of a wuss to do anythin’ without a mask and a prepubescent scarecrow as a sidekick.” She giggled.

  “Okay. Then what super hero would you prefer to be? And don’t argue, you’re stuck being one in my mind, so you better pick good.” He frowned thoughtfully as he set about taking her old knob out of the door, replacing it with a new one.

  “Superman was cool. His real disguise was the one he wore every day. He didn’t bother hidin’ much else about him. He wore a pair of glasses, a tie and an awkward personality, that’s all. It was the people around him that were the idiots, even the ones he worked with and saw every day. If people cared to look deeper, they woulda known his secret. They just couldn’t be bothered to do it. He hid behind his glasses, waitin’ to be seen, and no one ever did.” She listened to his thoughtful explanation and couldn’t help but think that she could say the same about the way people looked at him. They looked at the tattoo and immediately thought of him as nothing but scum. But in reality he was one of the good guys who put his life in jeopardy to save their selfish butts every day.

  “What kind of dangerous things could a Hybrid do that would make Foundation have a protocol about killing without blinking an eye?” He froze, muscles tensing. “I’m just trying to understand,” she added softly. He sighed and went back to working. She was sure he wasn’t going to answer, when he finally relented.

  “When someone’s Changed over to a Hybrid, things don’t always go as planned. They can
be a perfect match in every way, and then somethin’ goes wrong. Within days, months or even years they gotta be put down.”

  “Put down? Like a dog?” Harley’s muscles went taut, and she could see the anger on his face.

  “Yeah, like a dog, kid. Because that’s exactly what they become; a damned wild animal!” She flinched, stepping back at his harsh, sarcastic tone. Unsure of what she’d said to bring on his reaction she sifted over her words in an effort to figure out how to fix it. His jaw clenched and he moved back to installing the new locks.

  “It ain’t an easy thing to do,” he muttered moments before the drill started up, drowning out any response she could make. While he worked Amiel watched silently, carefully digesting the words he’d said and piecing the puzzle together. She watched his sharp movements, the anger clouding his face, the emotions in his icy eyes. When the noise died down, she took a cautious step forward.

  “They make you do it.” He froze at her timid assumption, and she could literally hear his teeth grinding. He stood quickly, opening and shutting the door, testing her new locks.

  “Good enough,” he muttered. “Make sure ya lock ‘em all or it won’t have been worth the effort to install em.” He handed her three sets of key rings, each with two keys on the round wire. He didn’t look at her once. “Three new locks, three new keys with doubles just in case ya lose one.” Amiel reached out quickly, grabbing his hand before he could turn away. Just like when she’d been caught looking at his tattoos during his Collapse, she felt as though she were standing on the edge of a precipice with him. She needed to fix it before it was too late. Her fingers felt tiny wrapped around his, fingertips feeling all of the smooth spots on his palm where she’d expected calluses. He swallowed, staring at the floor. She waited until he finally met her eyes.

  “Thank you, Superman. There you go rescuing me again.” He stared into her eyes for a long time, and she hoped he could see the apology in them. The apology and the complete lack of judgment against him and his life. He grunted, giving her hand a single squeeze before bending to grab up the trash he’d left on the floor.

  “Might as well call you Lois Lane, as much trouble as ya’ll get into.”

  “Nope, I’m much too smart to be Lois. She never once recognized Superman for who he was. And she was supposedly in love with the guy.” She hoped he got this message, too. That she could see him for who he was, the hero and the regular guy. Harley met her gaze again, and she could see something stirring within the depths of those arctic blues. Whether he got her meaning or not, that look was intense and for some reason made her want to blush. Trying to cut the crimson blush off before it made a complete fool of her, she shoved the rest of the bag of donuts into one of his hands, and grabbed the other.

  “Come on. You fixed my door, now I’m going to fix your hair.”

  “My hair?” He dug his feet in, eyes wide with what she could only imagine came as close to horror as Harley ever got. She grinned, tugging playfully on his arm.

  “Half of it is charred off, Harley. It needs fixed.”

  “I’ll just trim the bits that don’t crumble off on their own,” he argued.

  “You’d rather hack away at it than to let me do it?”

  “Y’all ever cut hair before?” he asked suspiciously. She got the feeling he didn’t get haircuts often, and more than likely when he did, he did it himself. She had to admit that he did a pretty good job of it, but she wanted to return the favors he’d shown her today in some way.

  “Sure I have. I trimmed my Barbie doll’s hair all the time.” His eyes widened further and she couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m kidding, Superman. I use to work at a spa, with a connected salon. Strictly speaking my mother would have killed me if she knew I was cutting hair, but sometimes they were shorthanded. One of the hairdressers took the chance of getting kicked out of town if word got around, but she was desperate.” Harley’s brow crunched further, still looking concerned. She grinned tugging his arm once more. “I promise I won’t ruin it.” Her eyes sparked with challenge. “Unless you’re afraid of the damage a little girl can do to your manly image.”

  Harley’s eyes narrowed in on hers and the challenge presented there. His posture straightened making him a taller more imposing figure, eyes flickering with a dangerous challenge of their own. She quirked a brow at him, not backing down. The bag of donuts dropped to the floor as he moved closer, a quiet aura of power radiating from him. She found herself backing up against the wall, his slow purposeful strides matching her retreating ones. When her back pressed to the cool surface and he loomed over her, she stared up into his eyes unsure what to do next. Something dark and forbidding flickered in those depths, something that she could practically feel skittering across her flesh, leaving goose bumps in its wake. It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant sensation, just unexpected. She swallowed hard, waiting to see what would happen next, eyes dropping to his lips simply to escape the torment of his gaze. Those lips quirked up on one side and he walked the rest of the way into the bathroom like nothing had happened. She moved around the corner to stare at him where he leaned against the counter.

  “What was that about?”

  “First lesson in Hybrid 101, kid. Never challenge, unless ya wanna be taken down.”

  “Taken down? You didn’t do anything.”

  “Y’all backed away and dropped your gaze. You gave up the challenge, I won. And you’re lucky I’m one of the Hybrids that has control of that part of myself. If I wasn’t, the way y’all looked me in the eye, challenged me, called me weak?” He shrugged “I probably woulda tossed ya across the room. At the very least.”

  “For looking you in the eye?” She was sure he was teasing her now.

  “And callin’ me weak.” she watched him skeptically. “When people think of Hybrids as animals, they ain’t that far off,” he assured her.

  “What are you saying? That you’re a big shaggy werewolf on the inside?” She scoffed, motioning for him to sit on the closed toilet lid. He rolled his eyes, arms crossing over his chest as he sunk down.

  “Course I ain’t. A man’s just a man, ain’t nothin’ supernatural ‘bout it. But a man don’t need to be supernatural for him to act like an animal. The brain does crazy things when it’s messed with. Like I said, the Hybrid brain has enhanced darker and more primitive areas than the average Clean. Think about Rabids. They’re pure primal, pure aggression. They act like animals, turnin’ on anythin’ weak enough to take down, turnin’ on each other when they’re wounded. Hybrids have the serum to help maintain some of their humanity. But like I said, it all depends on their personalities before the Change, how strong their will is to control it and how much they relied on the aggressive parts of their brains before they Changed.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably as she started running her fingers through his hair, checking for burnt places and gauging the current length.

  “They act like animals. No, I already said that,” he muttered, clearing his throat again. “Hybrids can be unpredictable and wild at times. Especially the new ones that are just beginnin’ to learn how to handle their Hybrid.”

  “You talk about it like it’s a separate entity,” she pointed out, digging through her drawers for the scissors. He frowned, thinking.

  “Yeah, suppose I kinda do. It ain’t really. But I guess sometimes it feels like it is. It’s a separate part of your personality and mind I guess. It ain’t somethin’ you’re used to feelin’ as a Clean. Infection brings out the savage parts of the brain, the serum helps you hold onto the sane parts. So in a way ya find yourself constantly wrestlin’ with your own mind. Half of you wants to react one way, the other half says no. Sometimes ya gotta let it have its way, ‘cause it’s what keeps you safe. Sometimes ya gotta say no cause it’ll destroy little bits of your humanity ‘til it just ain’t there no more. Then ya gotta be put down.” He shifted uncomfortably on the seat. “So, yeah. Don’t challenge a Hybrid unless y’all are willin’ to take the consequences. I can handle some teasin�
�� in good fun. But even I can’t be pushed too far. And anyone else will see it as a challenge to their strength and dominance, so don’t think of tryin’ it with anyone but me. Our kind in general ain’t understandin’ of weakness- in ourselves or in others.”

  Amiel pretended to still be digging for the scissors, though she had found them a long time ago. She used the extra time to try and gather herself. She knew he wouldn’t appreciate it if she looked at him with sympathy or pity. But his life sounded truly painful. He was a slave to Foundation, under constant threat of death from Rabids or Foundation alike. Even from his fellow Hybrids, according to Cajun. He was forced to be the one to kill those of his kind that were seen as being broken. She had to assume that some of those were people he personally knew, was maybe even friends with. He had to wrestle with himself day and night to conquer what was essentially his own mind working against him. No wonder the guy seemed to have trust and social issues. Finally feeling that she had a clamp on her emotions, she stuffed a comb in her back pocket and grabbed the scissors, turning toward him. Immediately his eyes fixed on the scissors, body tensing.

  “Are you really that…concerned about me cutting your hair?” She’d nearly said ‘afraid’ before remembering his caution about using words that taunted him for being weak. He shook his head, eyes still fastened on the scissors.

  “Naw. But my other side don’t much care for them scissors bein’ so near.” She looked at the metal in her hand.

  “Your Hybrid sees these as a weapon?”

  “Somethin’ like that,” he grunted in agreement.