by John Corwin
"Izzy left the tab open on her card." He shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I'll cut it off later."
I didn't feel a bit guilty about letting Isabel pay for my drinks at this point. I tried to smile, but barely managed to twitch my lips before snatching my purse off the hook and pushing my way through the crowd and out the door. A cloud of cigarette fumes invaded my nose, thanks to the crowd of smokers huddled in the cold outside. I didn't spot Izzy in the group, though I'd hoped maybe she'd just followed McCreeperson outside so he could smoke.
With a huff of anger, I got my bearings and headed down the sidewalk in the general direction of our flat. I knew I had to take a few turns here and there, but they were right on Peachtree. Walking might take longer, but I had no money to get a cab. Besides, if I didn't have time to cool off, I might say something rather nasty to my friend.
As I passed the alley between Gronsky's and a restaurant next door, a distinct moaning noise caught my ear. I turned and peered down the dark alley. Two shadowy outlines moved at the fringy of light offered by the closest streetlamp. I almost called out Izzy's name, but the words lodged in my throat. Whether it was fear of embarrassing myself, or just plain old fear, I wasn't sure. Even though Izzy wasn't all that choosy when it came to guys, I knew one thing. There was no way in the world she'd stoop to having sex in an alley.
It had to be someone else getting it on down there.
I turned to continue on my way, when one of the figures made a little squealing noise, faint, but unmistakable. Izzy was in that alley.
Now I really was going to kill her.
My inhibitions dropped away, replaced by disappointment and angry disbelief. I was going to drag her sorry little tail out of there and give her a verbal lashing she wouldn't forget.
As I walked further into the alley, a chill that had nothing to do with the night air crystalized like frost beneath my skin. When I closed to a few feet, the taller of the two silhouettes pulled away from the shorter. Isabel was kind of tall for a girl, but there was no mistaking Stephen's taller frame. I grabbed Izzy's arm and jerked her into the light. She slumped to the ground sideways, her dark hair spilling across the alley floor.
The other figure stepped into the dim light. Stephen smiled, and licked blood from his lips.
Chapter 2
I meant to scream, but fright somehow made me forget how to vocalize even the simplest word. Instead, a hoarse whimper replaced the scream and my legs went weak in the knees. I sucked in another breath, this time planning to really make a go of it, but Stephen was on me in a literal flash, pressing me hard against the wall. The rough surface of the brick bit through my sweater and against my skin. Stephen's hand slapped over my mouth. His skin felt dry, like slightly cool fabric against my skin. The cold aura drifting from him grew into an almost tangible entity of its own, like a reptilian presence that wanted nothing more than to sink its fangs into my flesh.
Reflex kicked in, and my knee went straight for his groin. Somehow, he blocked it and used a leg to press my thighs tight against the wall. I couldn't move. Couldn't scream. All I could do was look into his hard blue eyes and the sadistic joy within.
"Didn't want to come with me, huh, bitch?" he said. "Looks like I get dinner and dessert tonight." He moved his hand from my mouth and shifted his grip to my throat. "Nobody turns me down." He sniffed me like I was his next meal. "Nobody."
With his fingers digging into my neck, I couldn't answer, only tremble in fear and loathing. I squirmed, using all my strength to win my way free, but he was insanely strong. It reminded me of—I cut off my thoughts, trying desperately not to conjure up those images, but it was too late. A claustrophobic sensation sucked the remaining oxygen from my lungs. Panic gripped my muscles and fired off every nerve in my body.
I struggled, but I was a mouse caught in the grip of a cat's paw. Judging by the amusement in his eyes, he knew it.
"I'm going to enjoy this," he said. His mouth sprang open.
His teeth flashed in the light, two of them looking unnaturally long. Stephen froze. A croaking gasp escaped his throat and his grip on me loosened. His head snapped back. Flashed forward and smacked hard against the brick wall. I felt something wet spatter against the side of my face and winced.
Stephen thudded to the ground.
Another figure stood where he had. An older man with a concerned look on his face, and piercing green eyes. He took my hand. Gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Are you okay?"
I nodded. Tried to speak but nothing came out. My senses scrambled, I could hardly think straight.
He bent down and scooped Izzy off the ground, cradling her like a baby in his arms. He motioned with his head. "Let's get out of this alley, okay?"
I nodded again.
We made our way back to the street. Our savior set Izzy on a bench and looked her over. Pulled out a handkerchief and wiped at her neck, shaking his head and muttering.
"What did he do to her?" I asked, finally able to force words from my mouth.
"Crazy guy bit her," the man said. "Probably on drugs."
"We have to call the cops," I said, looking for my purse, and realizing it wasn't on me.
"You dropped it in the alley," he said, standing. "You stay with her. I'll be right back."
All I knew was nothing could make me go back down that dark tunnel. I shuddered. Squeezed my eyes shut against the terrors of the past and wished them away. I dropped next to Izzy and felt her neck, searching for a pulse. I found it. I also saw where Stephen had bitten her and grimaced. While it wasn't exactly a bad bite, it left a nasty mark.
"Nyuhhh," Isabel said, her eyelids fluttering. "Bluh."
Well, it wasn't the most eloquent statement in the world, but relief warmed me. She was okay. Everything would be all right.
The man returned a moment later with two purses, one in either hand. He set them both down on the bench next to me. "It looks like the attacker ran away."
"After the way you hit him?" I felt my eyebrows go up. "I'm calling the cops."
"You look exhausted." He frowned. "If you call the police, you'll be here for hours waiting and filling out paperwork."
"I don't want that asshole free to do this again."
He shrugged. "Okay."
I looked up at him. Though his face looked perfectly normal—average even—his remarkable eyes stood out like emerald beacons. When his gaze met mine, a hint of uncertainty crept into his demeanor. He backed away a step. Unlike the coldness I felt with Stephen, this guy emanated something I couldn't put my finger on, like heat with the underlying scent of something burning. Then again, this feeling probably had more to do with the alcohol in my blood and my state of shock. I sometimes had an uncanny knack for seeing more to some people than the everyday façade they presented, but this definitely wasn't one of those times.
"Thank you so much," I said, common sense finally gracing me with the hindsight to thank the guy who'd been our knight in shining armor. "God, my brain isn't functioning right now."
He chuckled. "No problem." Glanced at his watch. "Unfortunately, I have to go."
"But the police—"
"I can't," he said. "Cops and I don't get along."
I took a moment to look him over. He wore a pair of khakis and a white oxford. A pair of glasses perched atop his mid-sized nose. He looked to be in his mid to late thirties, and seemed moderately fit. While he was somewhat handsome he definitely didn't look like anything special, and he most certainly didn't look like someone the police would care about, lovely eyes or not.
"Are you a criminal mastermind?" I asked.
A grin broke on his face. "No." He shrugged. "Can't really explain." He held up a hand and whistled to stop a cab. "You have all your stuff?"
I nodded.
He handed the cabbie a fifty. "Take them wherever they need to go."
"Good lord, you just rescued us. Please, don't worry about—"
A wave of his hand cut me off. "Don't worry about it. I'm a criminal mastermind, rememb
er?" He winked.
Before I could open my mouth to protest and insist on calling the police, he helped Izzy into the car. She staggered a bit, but he guided her with ease into the backseat and closed the door, then escorted me to the other side.
"Why?" I asked, unable to think of another question.
"That," he said, "is a very open question." He took my hand and kissed it.
I could have sworn I felt a slight electric tingle between our hands. He shivered ever so slightly. Or maybe it was me. I was so stunned by his generosity, I couldn't think of words to say. Without remembering actually climbing in, I heard the door click and watched as our hero turned and walked back toward the alley.
"Where to?" asked our driver, a man whose credentials displayed the name Natwar.
I gave him the address. In all of ten minutes, we were home. The fare was nowhere near fifty dollars, but I didn't bother asking for change. Natwar helped me pull Izzy from the backseat, and offered to help me take her up to the apartment, but I politely declined. Looping both purses around one arm, I guided my friend inside, using the security fob on the lift, and taking it up to our floor.
When we got inside, I pulled off Isabel's shoes and put her to bed, pulling the covers over her. By the time I stepped back inside the den, my muscles felt weak as noodles. Exhaustion swept over me like a warm fudge coating, and I lay down on the couch to rest my eyes for a moment.
"Em?" Nudge, nudge. Shake, shake. "Wake up."
I groaned. "Go away."
"I'm going to give you a wet willy if you don't wake up."
I covered my ears and burrowed my face in the couch cushions. A moment later, something freezing ran down my back. I shrieked and jumped up, hands reaching desperately for the icy sensation. Before I could get it, it slid down my back and lodged in my coin slot. Pulling the half-melted ice cube from my pants, I flung it at my devilish roommate.
"Bitch!"
She laughed, dodging the sliver of ice. "I made tea," she sang in falsetto. "With cinnamon and chocolate."
Pressing my temples to ward off the slight hangover and her impromptu singing, I staggered for a stool where the kitchen counter met the den. I must have slept like a rock, I supposed, because I couldn't remember a single dream. The only nightmare I recalled was from real life. I jerked my head upright and gazed blearily at Izzy. She looked happy. Normal.
"Are you okay?" I said, peering at the bruises on her neck.
"Why wouldn't I be?" She looked genuinely puzzled. "I got to catch up with my best friend, we got drunk, and I guess I passed out." She handed me a steaming mug of dark liquid. The divine odor of chocolate and tea pleasured my nose. I preferred something without so much sweetness in the morning, but over the years Isabel had slowly converted me to the dark side.
Men I could live without. Tea, not so much. If only I could marry the marvelous drink. I took a sip, resisting the urge to call her out on her bald-faced lie. The tea was a flimsy attempt to make me forget she'd gone off with a guy I'd expressly told her was bad news. Unfortunately, I could only resist for a few seconds.
"If you think for one bloody minute chocolate-flavored tea is going to make me forget about last night, you've got another think coming, Iz." I took another cautious sip of the hot liquid while I judged her reaction. Warmth and chocolately goodness trailed down my throat.
Her eyes went wide. "Oh God, did I do something stupid? Did I throw up in someone's purse again?"
"Don't give me that rubbish," I said, my conscious attempts at maintaining an American accent falling away completely. "I went to the bathroom for all of five minutes, only to come back and find out you left with that creepy asshole, Stephen."
Her mouth fell open. "No I didn't—Em, what are you talking about? I remember you going to the bathroom. Our drinks came." She wrinkled her forehead as if straining to remember. "I think someone tapped me on the shoulder." Pressing a hand to her forehead, she stared at the counter for a few seconds. "Good God, girl. I can't remember anything after that."
The tea mug trembled in my hand. I set it down before I spilled it. Anger swallowed my insides and I felt the urge to yell, "You're a bloody liar!" at her. But her confusion and concern looked genuine. Isabel always wore her emotions on her sleeve. And while I knew for a fact she wasn't always upfront about some things, she was terrible at hiding her secrets from me. Mainly because I was ruthless at digging them out of her.
My anger faded, replaced by my own sense of confusion. "Look me in the eye and tell me this is the truth. What happened last night is not something you can just gloss over and think I'll forget."
She looked up from the counter to me, her head shaking. "Did someone slip me roofies?" Her mouth opened in horror. "Oh no, please don't tell me I had sex with some random dude who drugged me."
I paused to take another sip of tea, my mind flipping through the possibilities. Had her mind blocked out the trauma? I'd heard of people's minds doing crazy things to purge painful memories, but Isabel's reaction seemed too extreme to be true. Then again, her expression looked too genuine to be false.
So which was it?
"You don't remember making out with that guy in the alley?" I said, taking in every iota of body language she offered up.
She almost dropped her drink. "I did what?"
"Stephen. The Creepazoid from Gronsky's. You left with him while I was in the bathroom. I found you in the alley making out."
Setting her mug on the counter, Isabel put a hand over her heart and leaned back against the wall. "I—I really don't remember that, Em. I swear I'm not lying." Her eyes narrowed and she gave me a look. "You're not messing with me are you?"
"Do you think I'd be so pissed if I was messing with you?"
She shook her head. Took a breath. "Oh, geez. I don't think I had that much to drink. And you know me. I always remember everything, unlike Angela. That girl either lies about not remembering the shit she does while she's drunk, or liquor just blanks her brain."
The remaining anger melted away, replaced in equal measure by confusion and doubt. How Isabel couldn't remember, I had absolutely no idea. But as far as I could tell, she really didn't have a clue about last night. By the time I finished recounting the story, Isabel dashed frantically to the mirror to check her neck.
"It looks like the mother of all hickies," she wailed. "And I didn't even have sex to go along with it."
As if sex were a side dish. I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Seriously, Iz, you were almost raped, I was nearly killed and raped, and all you care about are the stupid marks on your neck?"
Tears gathered in Isabel's eyes, pooling and breaking free in a flood. She hugged me. "I'm just trying not to think about it," she said between sobs. "But I don't remember a thing. What if something is horribly wrong with my brain?"
"Well, we both know something is wrong with your brain," I said, trying to inject some humor into this god-awful morning.
"Why didn't you call the cops?" she said, grabbing a tissue and blowing her nose. "I mean, even if that guy who saved us didn't want you to, it's still a good idea." She blew her nose again, left the bathroom, and dug her phone out of her purse.
"I think it's a little late now," I said. "You don't remember anything, and our savior didn't leave a number, so the police are just going to look at us as if we're mental."
She stared at the phone a moment before setting it down. "This is crazy." She looked up. "I want waffles. And ice cream. And fudge."
"This does qualify as an emergency, doesn't it?"
She nodded. "Big time."
We ended up gorging ourselves on breakfast, going to a movie, and shopping for stun guns—purple of course. We both already owned pepper spray, but I wanted to have fifty thousand volts ready to run through Stephen's body if I happened to see him again. I shuddered at the thought.
"Are you excited about tomorrow?" Isabel asked as I tossed laundry in the washer that night.
"Nervous," I said.
"They're going to love you."<
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"Because I'll be so awesome at fetching coffee and kissing ass?" I said. "It's an intern position, not CEO."
"Lots and lots of room for advancement," she said with a cheery note. "And at least it'll be something to live on until you find a job you like."
"Yeah." The problem was, I had a vanilla business degree and still no clue what I wanted to do for a career. I'd done some waitressing, but not much else, and certainly nothing to qualify me for an executive position.
Izzy touched my shoulder. "Oh, don't be such a Debbie Downer. Just let me teach you how to shake that ass a little, and you'll have a man ready to support you for life, sweetie."
I gave her a sideways look. "Because that's how I roll, right?"
She shook her butt and giggled.
After selecting appropriate business attire to wear to work the next day, I flossed, brushed, and climbed into bed. My mind would not shut up. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Stephen, his teeth flashing for my throat. His face crunching against the brick. Blood spraying everywhere. The entire incident seemed like a nightmare, not something that had really happened. I still remembered the otherworldly vibe emanating from him. It reminded me vaguely of some people my parents had once introduced me to.
I dragged myself out of bed when my alarm went off the next morning. Showered, and left the flat with a large travel mug of tea. My place of employment, OnTech, was about a fifteen minute walk, or a five minute bus ride. I knew, because I'd timed it on Saturday before Izzy and I had gone out for drinks. I was anal like that. I had a car, but parking wasn't free, at least not to a lowly intern. The parking would quickly add up to far more than the value of my car.
As I stood waiting for a walk sign so I could cross the street, a car pulled to a stop in the far lane. Normally, a car wouldn't be such a big deal, but this one was a brand new Range Rover. I looked at it with an adoring gaze. The face behind the windscreen caused me to freeze. It was the man from last night.
My knight in shining armor.