by Amy Cook
“Not bad. The bird’s full of surprises. Maybe I’ll have to have her cut mine from now on, so you don’t butcher it anymore.” Harley’s instincts flared, but he pressed them back, letting just enough show through to share what he thought of that idea. Cajun’s brow crunched.
“Oooor not.” He shrugged. “So, you look good. Are you good?” he asked awkwardly, and Harley knew Cajun was enquiring about his recent Collapse.
“Yeah, I’m good now.”
“Any problems?” Harley could feel that the intent behind Cajun’s statement leaned to more than just one direction. He wanted to know what had happened, wanted to know if he was screwed up in the head now, and he wanted to know if Harley had tried to eat Amiel. Harley settled for the easiest and most likely to distract, first.
“Derby has a mini me that wants me dead.” Cajun’s face darkened, his primal protective instinct for his brother rising to the surface. His pupils dilated, teeth barred, and his hair probably would have been sticking up everywhere if it weren’t already so short. Cajun was a pretty easy going guy most of the time, but he felt a deep seated need to protect those that he loved, and he didn’t have as much control of his Hybrid side as Harley did.
“Explain.” His brother’s voice was guttural, sharp, dark with intent. He was eager to go shred the Rat and his mini me, just as much as Harley. It was nice to feel the reinforcement of strength at his back offered from his brother, but it could easily get them both in trouble if it wasn’t curbed. Harley shrugged, trying to keep his own simmering feelings of hate for the Rats under the surface, so as to not fuel Cajuns.
“Lured me into the Skirts, tossed some Rabid goonies on me, and blew the place up.”
“Scum Whacka,” Cajun growled, eyes shifting toward the door.
“Reel it in, Caj. As much as I wanna bash some heads in, we don’t know enough yet.” Cajun’s nostrils flared.
“So we find the one who does.”
“I already scared the crap outta Dervish ‘bout it. He said he don’t know nothin’, but he was lyin’.”
“Let’s go get the brown-eyed mullet and make him talk.” Harley shook his head, resisting the urge to laugh. He knew that insult. Cajun had called him that one often enough as kids.
“We can’t do that, you know we can’t. We gotta be smart about this one, Caj. I get the feelin’ there’s more at play here than Amiel’s pervy neighbor and his twin. If we move too fast, y’all know what’ll happen with Foundation. And I can’t afford to get killed off yet. Amiel needs protection.” Cajun’s jaw clenched.
“Protection. Right.”
“She draws danger like lice on a monkey.”
“Did she share the truth with you yet?” Cajun prodded, now in a bad mood and clearly disliking that they were in the dark on this.
“Not yet,” Harley admitted tensely. He wanted to know as badly as Cajun did, but he found that he couldn’t force her to tell him. He’d seen it in her eyes, the urge to tell him, on several occasions. She’d chickened out each time, pulling away. If she could wait for his secret, he could wait for hers. Cajun’s darkened eyes shifted to meet Harley’s for a moment before moving back to stare at the door.
“You’re in deep, aren’t you? I can smell it on you.” Harley sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.
“We’re friends. And y’all know I can’t control the instinct I feel toward her, not after what she’s done for me.” Cajun didn’t miss the implications in his tone. He nodded, his Hybrid nature retreating some, face softening.
“Right, I can understand that.” There was no censure in his reply, only grudging understanding, and an audible hint of concern. Harley ignored it.
“Look, I’m on observation for the rest of the night. Someone put a bug in Foundation’s ear that I Collapsed and was unstable.”
“Someone indeed,” Cajun sneered. Harley nodded.
“I can do the time no problem. They’ll watch, see that I ain’t an issue and release me. But not til mornin’. Amiel’s workin’ tonight, and after what happened the other night…”
“You want me to keep an eye on her,” Cajun stated, already knowing where Harley’s mind was headed.
“Mini Douche has got as much of a sick infatuation for Amiel as Big Douche does. He grabbed her jacket from the diner just to lure me in for barbeque. Made it pretty clear he wanted me outta the way so that he could have her. If he can get that close without her knowin’…” Cajun nodded.
“Got it. I’ll run stalker duty tonight.” Harley rolled his eyes.
“Thanks. Appreciate it. She gets out ‘round four.”
“I’ll be there.” Cajun stood, stretching. “You alright then? Enjoyed your fish?”
“Yeah. I’m good. I don’t remember the fish, but I doubt Amiel will ever forget it.”
“She’s a good enough bird, I guess? A good friend to have in your corner, maybe?” He glanced at Harley with a slight question in his eyes.
“Yeah. I think she is,” Harley confirmed quietly, letting his brother know that just maybe he’d found someone to talk to, to relieve the burden of their lifestyle. There was still conflict in Cajun’s gaze, but his shoulders relaxed slightly and he flashed one of his rare serious grins. But it was soon replaced with the huge cheesy grin he usually blinded everyone with. He stopped half way out the door.
“By the way. Is it true you strutted around like a nudey babe?” Harley’s eyes widened.
“What? Did Amiel say that?”
“That’s for me to know, and you not to remember.” He sent a wink Harley’s way, just to stir up the dander further. Harley’s eyes narrowed as he grabbed his boot, hurling it at Cajun’s head. Cajun ducked and the flying boot must have hit someone else in the hall, judging from the female cry of outrage. Cajun winced and apologetically went to retrieve the boot, pouring on the sugar to whoever it was. He returned with Harley’s boot, holding his hands in the air.
“Truce! I was just joking, you little Air Biscuit! No need to turn into a random woman beater!” Harley glowered, not appreciating the joke.
“Who was it?”
“Kyree.”
“In that case I shoulda thrown it harder,” Harley grumbled.
“What is it with you and her anyways?” Cajun tossed the boot back to the floor at Harley’s feet.
“She’s creepy.”
“She does seem to be a bit…drawn to you.”
“She slumps ‘round outside my door, scowlin’ and accusin’ me of bein’ a woman hater one minute, then tries to lick the wax outta my ear the next. She’s creepy,” Harley restated.
“She’s definitely…okay, well you’re right. She’s a bit off her rocker. She tried to keep your boot.”
“She’s dumber than a doorknob and used just as often.” Cajun burst out laughing, bent over at the waist, tears leaking at the corners of his eyes, full on gut laughing.
“Oi, Harley, that was ripper! So harsh, but hilarious all the same. I’ve got to tell Char that one. Dumber than a doorknob and used just as often,” he mocked in a voice meant to sound like Harley’s. “Classic I tell you!” He leaned against Harley’s wall with one hand, held onto his stomach with the other as he continued laughing. Harley allowed a smile to stretch his lips, unable to deny the magnetic pull his brother flaunted. It was a rarity for anyone to be able to hate Cajun. Cajun yanked open the door, and Harley could still hear his laughter down the hall, long after he’d left his room.
Harley bent to grab his boot, staring at it with a frown. He’d have to disinfect the thing now. He groaned, chucking the boot back at the foot of his bed. He had more to worry about than cooties. Cajun may have been joking about the naked thing, but now that Harley thought about it, he had disturbing mental images of him standing naked in her kitchen, and even worse, right in front of her face while she knelt on the ground. He wasn’t sure if these mental images were brought on by paranoia from Cajun’s joke, or from actual memories. Harley flopped over in the bed, shoving a pillow over his
face with a frustrated groan. Based on the fact that he’d woken up naked as the day he was born, he was starting to worry that he already knew the answer. He wished he didn’t.
Chapter 26
Cajun
Cajun cursed, pressing the pedal to the floor a little harder. He was late. He was late, and Harley was going to kill him. Granted, it wasn’t technically his fault. Foundation had held him over with lots of random calls to areas throughout the city. With Harley down for observation tonight, they’d sent Cajun to keep an eye on a few of the newer recruits that were in question of being on the verge of breaking. He sighed heavily, not wanting to think about that part of the night, or the future implications. In a way, he was glad Dante had been put on observation overnight. His brother had enough stress in his life, especially lately. He didn’t need to have the extra worry of knowing he may have to put down a few more recruits soon. He also didn’t need the stress of knowing his girl was headed home alone, when his brother had promised to keep an eye on her. He’d like to keep that part on the down low if possible. Provided he could ever find her.
Cajun had mixed feelings about this bird. He’d encouraged Harley to befriend her, to let her in. He even got his hopes up that his monk of a brother would finally get Sheila Fever after all these years. But now that this one had gotten closer than he’d ever imagined possible, Cajun couldn’t help but worry. Harley was tough as nails on the outside, but it was just the shell he’d built long ago to protect a soft core that got beat to a pulp too easily. If his little brother was finally letting himself get close to a woman, he hoped the girl was worth it, not just some chick leading him on. She’d proven to be a good enough sort, helping Harley through his Collapse. She’d been strong through the ordeal, despite the fact that she’d obviously been afraid. He hoped that was a good sign of her character. Of course, even if she was great, if Harley did let himself fall for her…if something ever happened to the girl, Cajun knew it would destroy what was left of Dante’s humanity.
A single break light up ahead signaled a motorcycle in the distance. Cajun pressed on the gas, feeling his luck starting to look up. That luck disappeared altogether when his monitors alerted him of incoming Rabids. Ten Rabids were coming in hot. The freaks were coming right for them.
“Strewth, but that bird’s got the crumbiest of luck!” he grumbled as his SUV finally pulled up beside her bike. He rolled down the window, smiling brightly at her until she looked over. She glanced back at him twice before lifting her visor, squinting against the wind that now poured through. He noticed her hand moved to the back of her pants, gripping the gun that was barely visible in its holster there.
“G’day!” he greeted her cheerily. She offered him a confused smile between cautious glances back to the road as she drove. “I’m Cajun!” he shouted against the wind, glancing back down at his monitors. He could see the light click on in her eyes as she recognized him. She released her grip on the gun, motioning to her bike as she started slowing down.
“No!” he shouted, startling her. He put his cheery smile back in place. “Let’s just keep driving, then! Bonzer night for driving and chewing the fat, don’t you think?” Her eyebrows scrunched, but she pushed the bike to match his speed again. Cajun glanced at the monitors, cursing as the dots grew closer. They’d be on them in no time. His eyes flicked to the road, thinking.
“What are you doing here?” she shouted in a friendly, but confused tone.
“Harley sent me to look after you tonight,” he shouted back with a smile, though he wasn’t really thinking about the conversation at hand so much as he was trying to figure out how to get Harley’s charge home in one piece. Harley said she’d handled herself just fine with Rabids before, Tandy had even said it. Cajun didn’t particularly want to find out for himself.
“He did? That was nice, but why?”
“Huh? Oh, he’s a worrier that one!” He smiled reassuringly. The bike wobbled slightly as her hand suddenly dropped to her chest, pressing against it. Her eyes took on a pained sheen, though she tried to hide it. Cajun’s eyes widened. Hadn’t Tandy mentioned something about that being a warning sign that she was about to go Wonka? He thought quickly, trying to think of a way to get her out of danger before things got weird.
“Actually, there’s a pub just down the way here, Harley thought you might want to join up there. Have dinner with me and Char, kind of a get to know eachother bash. Corker, yeah?” Her smile was clearly strained, but she nodded enthusiastically.
“That sounds wonderful!” Her eyes shifted, looking down at the screen on her bike. He noticed it was flashing a warning much like his own. “But let’s have a race first!” Her eyes met his, holding them. The challenge there was clear. “Catch me if you can!” she shouted, jamming the throttle on the handle, sending the little bike flying forward. He watched in surprise for a moment, before grimacing and following behind. Harley hadn’t been blowing smoke after all. This little bird was smart. Smart, and sneaky. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she knew exactly what she was doing, challenging him that way.
She’d seen the Rabids on her screen. She’d felt one of her freak outs coming on. Instead of telling him, instead of revealing her secret, she’d challenged him. Somehow she knew how he’d react to her challenge. The little ankle-biter was trying to lead him away from danger. He laughed, pushing his instincts back. Sneaky or not, the girl had guts, and that was something his instincts could respect, though they snapped at the edge of his control to beat her at her challenge. He looked at the monitors, eyes narrowing when the Rabids shifted to change course. They were moving fast. They had a Buckey’s Chance at outrunning them. Not when they were on the hunt.
The girl hunched over in front of him, the bike wobbling again. The seconds before she righted herself were panic filled for Cajun. He sighed in relief, grateful when she straightened, seeming to pull herself back together. His relief was short lived. The girl’s bike suddenly flipped around in a U, and he slammed on the brakes. Her bike pulled up next to his window and she popped the visor up on her helmet.
“What are you doing!” he shouted.
“You need to get out of here. Take that road to the right and keep going. I’ll stop them.” She pushed the words through clamped teeth, eyes glazed in pain.
“What? You’re a crazy bird, you are!” He moved to open the door, but she leaned over with her bike, laying her combined weight against his door. He’d have to shove her over to open his door now. His gentlemanly side warred with his instincts to protect what was his brother’s. She clutched at her chest again, grunting in pain, sweat breaking out across her face.
“Bird, come on,” he pleaded. “No need to throw a wobbler now. I told Harley I’d keep you safe, and I will. Get in the car.” Her eyes shifted toward his, and he jerked back in surprise. The pupils of her eyes were huge, the edges shooting out in hundreds of elaborate black lines.
“Go!” His Hybrid balked at her sharply growled command. She snapped the visor down, the bike shooting forward as he watched in stunned silence. Jumping out the door, he watched her barrel down the road toward the hoard of Rabids. What the hell was she doing? At the last second she tipped over, rolling off the bike as it skidded towards the infected. The bike took down four of them as she somersaulted to her knees. He watched in awe as she yanked the helmet off, throwing her head back with a piercing scream, arms thrown wide. It made the hairs on his arms stand up, goose bumps rising with them. He called out a warning as a Rabid threw itself at her, knowing his warning could do her no good. He sprinted forward, but he wouldn’t make it to her in time.
She flung herself to the right, spinning on her knees, the helmet in one hand swinging around to crack into her attacker’s skull as it landed where she had been sitting only moments before. Reaching to her back she pulled out the gun, nailing some of the Rabids with bullets, slamming others with her helmet. He skidded to a halt, immobilized with the shock of what was playing out before him. Her small body flipped through the
air, rolling over the backs of her enemy, sliding on her knees under the charges of others. A rabid shambled up next to Cajun, seemingly also in a crazed sort of awe as it watched what was going on.
“Ever seen something like that?” Cajun asked conversationally, pulling one of the guns from its holster under his arm. The Rabid’s dull eyes turned toward him as though just now noticing him. Cajun shot it in the head, before walking toward Amiel. “Yeah, me neither,” he muttered. Aiming he took down a few of the stragglers just coming to join the party, while Amiel finished off hers.
When the last corpse hit the ground, Cajun’s eyes shifted to meet Amiel’s. She stared hard at him, eyes fiery, refusing to back down from him. They regarded one another, one potential enemy or ally facing another. He examined his Hybrid nature, checking it for what it felt in her intent. She was cautious, but she wasn’t outwardly aggressive. Surprisingly his instincts were cautious, but they weren’t demanding her head on a platter.
The gun and helmet suddenly clattered to the ground at her feet, signifying a truce. Cajun closed his eyes, stance strong, solid, but allowing her the opportunity to back down from a brewing fight, without admitting his own defeat in return. She’d dropped her weapons in a sign of truce; it was only fair that he returned the favor, at least as far as he could allow himself to. A soft thud met his ears, and he peeked to find her crumbled to the ground where she’d stood. He walked toward her cautiously, instincts wary but curious. Dad was right; Cajun had never seen anything like what this little girl had just done. Except for among his fellow Hybrids. And even then, the way she’d moved seamlessly, dealing one blow after another without an ounce of hesitation or fear? It had been incredible! Incredible, and suspicious.
He stared down at her immobile form, seeing her chest moving with each breath, features relaxed as though in a deep sleep. Had she not been lying by a pile of Rabids, covered in their blood, she would have almost seemed to be peacefully sleeping in her bed. Was this what it had been like when Harley saw her fight that night? Only then she had just taken on three infected. What had she done when traveling with Tandy? He nudged her with his toe. She didn’t flinch. Sighing, Cajun moved a few feet away, eyes never leaving her prone form. Pulling out his cell he dialed Foundation’s recovery team.