by Sariah Skye
The car began slowing down again.
Sierra let out an angry bark, noticing how tense I was as I gripped my steering wheel tightly. I still had about half of a mile to go until the grocery store where I could pull off safely, in a well-lit, populated parking lot. The rest of the buildings alongside the road were empty offices with dark, empty lots. Certainly not a good idea to try to hide in one of those.
A loud rumble that shook the ground startled Sierra and I both. I looked up at the sky, expecting a flash of lightning, but instead my rearview mirror was lit up once again by bright light.
A loud motorcycle came into view with its single, blinding headlight. The engine rumbled as it soared past me, positioning itself in between my car, and the nefarious black sedan next to me.
The man on the motorcycle revved his engine, crouching over the handlebars, wearing a black bandanna over his head, and mirrored, aviator sunglasses. In the dark? Weird.
He turned to me briefly, and peered at me from over his glasses. Though I didn’t want to take my eyes off the road, my sidelong glance noticed a set of steel, piercing blue eyes, and a hint of blond hair sticking out from underneath the bandanna.
“Bash?” I questioned aloud; as he revved his engine loudly again.
What would he be doing here? That can’t be him.
The Bash-look alike sped forward, motorcycle screaming into the night as the black sedan peeled off.
I heaved a sigh of relief; my heart thumped against my chest. I took a couple of cleansing breaths, as I leveled out my speed for the last two blocks to the grocery store.
The sky was rumbling more frequently, lightning flashing as I pulled into a parking spot right under a bright light. I scanned the parking lot around me; nothing suspicious.
Still, whatever it was had me rattled. I didn’t want to leave Sierra behind in case the crazy fuck in the black car came back. I produced a short leash from my glove box, and affixed it on her, making her look like a service dog. She actually was a licensed therapy animal; I’d taken her to hospitals and nursing homes before. Legally no one was allowed to inquire to her presence. I felt a bit dishonest, but I wasn’t about to leave her behind. She was tough, but even the largest dog couldn’t battle a gun with success, if the freak in the sedan had one. Sierra was insanely well behaved though, and wouldn’t cause a lick of trouble.
I held her close to my legs as we quickly dashed through the lot, picking up the pace as a crash of thunder sounded from nearby.
I quickly grabbed some macaroni and cheese, a case of carbonated water, a box of sugar cookies, and a rawhide bone for Sierra. I had to wait in line for about five minutes, and I tapped my foot nervously. I doubted the nefarious car would return, but I didn’t want to risk it. Or get caught in the storm.
Maybe it was my paranoia, maybe not, but I felt watched as I walked through the store. But there was no one there. I hastened my pace for the cashier.
“Nice dog.”
I jumped in my shoes. I swiveled around.
A tall, blond male stood behind me, carrying a red basket that belonged to the store. His arms were wrapped around it, so I couldn’t see what was in it, but it appeared empty.
“Uh…thanks.” I said, eyeing him strangely. The guy couldn’t have been more than forty at the oldest—probably not even that old. But his blue eyes, angular jaw and nose somehow looked…familiar. “Do I know you?”
The man smiled lightly. “No. We’ve never met I don’t think. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to…” He stopped talking and looked away, but under the blond fringe that hung in his eyes I could see the blush that reddened his cheeks.
“Is this all for you?” The cashier, a very cranky looking, thirty-something-year old woman said, tonelessly as she began to ring my order.
“Yeah…sorry…I—” I turned back to the customer behind me, the blond guy. Only, he wasn’t there. I stared at the empty spot he once stood, confused. “Did you—did you see that guy behind me?”
The cashier gave me a deprecating look. “No, ma’am. I did not,” she said blandly.
I forced a smile at her. “Oh.” I stretched my arm out to pat Sierra on the head as she rang me through, and I quickly prodded her out of the store quickly as soon as the crabby cashier was finished. By the time I was done, a young teenager stood in line—a handsome African/American boy, and his pretty brunette girlfriend. Definitely not the surprising, yet somehow recognizable blond man.
Weird.
We drove home without incident, and arrived home just in time before the sky opened up and started to downpour. I gave no further thought to the black sedan, or the dude behind me in the store, as my dog and I settled in for a quiet evening at home.
I stuffed myself with macaroni and cheese until I entered a food coma, and washed it down with enough fizzy water to keep me burping all night long.
No matter what I did, though, thoughts of Mathias, supernatural things, and cute daredevils on motorcycles kept entering my thoughts. Even through a marathon session of superhero movies with hot leading gentlemen. Generally, Chris Hemsworth, Chris Evans, or Chris Pratt (what is it with the Chrises, seriously?) would be enough to distract me from anything but tonight? They paled in comparison against Mathias’ brooding expressions, Sebastian’s electric blue eyes, Trystan’s sexy accent and dreamy tattoos, or Xander’s panty-melting smile.
What the hell was I doing thinking about them, anyway? They were a bunch of freaks. Okay, hot freaks, but freaks nonetheless. But what if they were right? What if they really were what they said they were? What Mathias said I was? Yes, I had this strange skill. Fine. But that didn’t mean I was…the thing he said I was. Part demon. Nope, nope, nope. I wouldn’t believe it.
I was still attempting to push them out of my mind when I finally fell into bed, utterly alone except for the kinky things that my brain thought of when it dreamed. Damn, my brain…
CHAPTER 7
Summer came home early in the morning, too drunk to converse about anything other than how sorry she was she puked on some cute girls’ shoes. She stumbled off to bed right after regaling that little anecdote, and hadn’t left her room by the time I woke up.
I didn’t want to confront her today, knowing that I was feeling edgy and freaked out about possibly being some weird supernatural freak of nature. I opted for a mid-morning walk with Sierra instead.
Julys in Minnesota were frequently hot and humid. But, as they say in Minnesota, “If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes, and it’ll change.” That was certainly true of today. It was unseasonably cloudy and cool; warm enough for a light sweatshirt and leggings, but not so warm that Sierra’s thick fur would inhibit her. It was a nice break from the summer heat. We had a normal path we walked that was fairly secluded, surrounded by trees, and away from the bulk of houses. I’ve never felt very nervous walking with her, until now, after that strange encounter with the odd black car. Twice. I was really considering now getting my actual open/conceal carry permit, for real this time. Not for empty threats.
I was extra vigilant, keeping watch for any creepy black cars (or hotties on motorcycles). We were three-quarters of the way through our walk on Eleventh Avenue when Sierra stopped, mid-step.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her, tugging on her leash slightly. My heart instantly sank when her ears went flat against her head. She let out a low, rumbling growl. I frantically scanned the area around us: a lot of trees, and the concrete path we walked on. I saw nothing, and I heard nothing.
No rustling of tree leaves, no birds…just…
Nothing.
“This is not good…” What made me want to leave the house this morning? Oh yeah, the tempt of cooler weather taunted me. Damn you, crazy Minnesota summer! Damn you!
Oh yeah, and I wanted to avoid Summer—my friend, not the season. And my mother. And stop thinking about—
Before I could finish the thought, Sierra started barking uncontrollably.
“Sierra! Stop t
hat!” I scolded her, but she was inconsolable. She yanked and pulled on her leash, the fur on her neck standing totally upright; teeth bared.
“No, Sierra! No!”
She continued barking at the air in front of her, seemingly at nothing.
I tugged on her leash, feeling a sudden sense of panic. The hair on my neck began to rise. “Shit…” I mumbled under my breath. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” I pulled on her leash again, and moved to take a step backward…
…and found that I couldn’t move.
“What the—” I attempted to pull on Sierra’s leash. To run. All I could do was breathe slightly, and move my eyes. My dog was also motionless; she let out a small whimper from low in her throat.
I didn’t feel constricted, or frozen. I just couldn’t move; it was as if the signals from my brain were not reaching my arms. Or legs. Or whatever.
My heart started beating uncontrollably, slamming into my chest. My eyes darted around nervously. What the hell? Am I having a seizure? Is this a seizure? How could Sierra be having it too?
“It’s okay, girl…” I tried to speak through clenched teeth, in calm voice. I knew she had to be terrified—like I was.
The sound of the air cracking—almost like thunder but directly in front of us—startled me in my shoes, and I would have jumped had I been able to move.
A scream ripped through my throat but became strangled in my mouth, as a man appeared in front of us, out of nowhere.
He was stocky, with black hair and eyes, pock-marked pale skin, and a narrow beard. Swarthy, is what I’d call him. He wore black pants and a brown hooded sweatshirt. He sneered when he spied me standing before him.
“Finally. You’re exactly what we’ve been looking for.” His voice was raspy, and he spoke with a broken accent I couldn’t place—it was almost a mix of many.
I tried to swallow nervously, but the lump in my throat sank deep, deep down into the pit of my stomach.
The man pulled out an object—and I wanted to gasp. It appeared long, and chrome-handled like some kind of futuristic gun. My instincts were correct. My breath hastened into a panicked wheeze, as he aimed the long barrel at me.
“Don’t worry, this won’t kill you. We need you alive. But it will hurt. A lot.” He said, took aim, and started to pull the trigger. I desperately wanted to close my eyes, to brace myself. Sierra let out a low whine, tears began to swell in my eyes, and as a lone tear rolled involuntarily down my cheek.
The hair on my arms stood on end as an electrical charge shot out—
–and hit the man in the back.
I gasped, as the clouds directly above us darkened and swelled, pouring down rain. With a crash of thunder, a second man appeared from nowhere, from…the clouds?
It couldn’t be.
Swarthy-man spun around, but didn’t get much further than a crane of his neck when a pair of hands, with lightning bolts shooting from them, whacked him in the shoulder. Caught off guard, the swarthy man dropped his weapon.
“Xiàyŭ!” Lightning shot up towards the sky, breaking the clouds and they opened, a deluge of cold rain that melted whatever constraint was holding us slowly. First my eyes were able to blink, then my neck could move.
With a swift movement, Swarthy-man was knocked to the ground and a familiar Asian man stood a top of him, pinning his arms to the ground.
“Xander?” I cried out in disbelief. Sierra barked, almost as if just as shocked.
The rain poured down, covering everything, thunder ringing out around us.
Finally able to fully move, I realized that the storm was only directly around us. Not in front, or back…but surrounding us only. The lightning spun around Xander’s body, as the rain soaked his gray t-shirt to the bone, his jet-black hair plastered to his forehead.
“Are you—?” I began, stupefied.
“No time!” His voice was clipped, his hands still digging into the swarthy man’s shoulders to pin him down. “Ava, you need stealth!”
I blinked, dumbfounded. “Stealth? I’m not a spaceship, I can’t—”
“You can! Just imagine yourself invisible—and step aside while I take care of this húndàn!” Xander’s voice was gruff and impatient. Swarthy-man began to struggle.
Xander held his hand back, and screamed a few words. Lightning shot from his hand, wrapping around Swarthy-man’s arms, binding him. Swarthy still struggled, even as Xander continued shooting lightning at him; the thunder rumbling overhead was deafening.
“Ava! Now!” Xander’s black eyes were nearly pleading as he looked up at me, before Swarthy-man struggled and finally managed to sit up.
“I don’t know how!” I screeched, panicked.
Swarthy-man turned around, and was eyeing me with his lecherous glare.
I yelped, kneeling down next to Sierra who was barking furiously, very angry and anxious. I couldn’t become invisible! Not like that! Though I wished right now, more than anything that I could, as Swarthy-man lifted his own hand, and a shimmer escaped from it before he looked back at Xander, pressing his hand into Xander’s broad shoulder.
Xander cried out with a feral yell.
I squinted my eyes shut and buried my face in Sierra’s damp fur, stinky wet dog smell and all, wishing beyond all belief that I wasn’t here—I was anywhere else and couldn’t be seen. Sierra too.
I felt a shiver dart up and down my back.
Xander shook off the pain, and stood upright. He glanced around, quickly for something unknown. Appearing satisfied, he turned back to Swarthy.
“You know, I could easily go for you too, Jian Xiang!” Swarthy fumbled for the weapon he’d once been holding; where it had fallen a handful of paces behind him.
“The hell you will. You will be leaving here today with no one, not even yourself, Collector!” Xander stood upright, flinging his arms over his head. The storm above churned and howled, wind began whipping around his head, splaying his hair every-which way. Lightning shot down from the clouds, into Xander’s outstretched palms.
Xander was briefly distracted with the storm, and Swarthy saw his opportunity. He crawled backwards, reaching for his weapon, but never taking his eyes off the powerful Xander.
I glared. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but I’ll be damned if I was going to let this greasy, ugly bastard shoot my rescuer (or, ahem, distractor. I would have eventually rescued myself…)
The weapon was only a step or so in front of me. Quickly with a swipe of my hand, I leaned over and grabbed for the weapon, scooping it up carefully and pulling it into my chest.
Swarthy’s hand touched the spot on the flooded ground where the weapon once was. He turned around, dumbfounded, slapping his hand on the ground in little puddles; like, stupidly the thing was hidden there. “What the hell?” He asked, no one in particular. His bloodshot eyes glanced around, and I nearly froze when they landed on Sierra and me. I had no idea what this thing was, or what it did, but it was surprisingly light. Almost like holding a table knife.
I held the weapon out in front of me in two hands, and placed a finger on the trigger.
Swarthy’s eyes only grazed me, and didn’t register what I was doing. Confounded, he turned back to his opponent.
Xander was somehow pulling the magic of a tiny tornado from the sky. Lightning darted and shrieked through the small funnel. Suddenly, Swarthy finally looked scared. Xander called out a few words I didn’t understand, and the storm grew larger.
Swarthy, realizing what was about to happen, scrambled to his feet. He patted the pockets of his pants for—something.
Drawing out a short silver shiv, he pointed it at Xander.
Instead of looking worried, though, Xander smirked. His eyes glinted mischievously.
He spun around, kicking out his leg and crying out—like some kind of karate move. Or kung-fu, I couldn’t tell the difference between them. Only, the powers of the storm moved with him, and enabled his movements. Lightning and wind helped him gain air, and Xander’s leg connected
with Swarthy’s face.
I cringed, hearing a sickening crack of bone, and the slosh of blood as it flew out of his mouth. Or cheek.
Swarthy cried out in terror, as Xander channeled his storms—the tornado funnel—around him, and with a deft slice of his mere hand, the storm made impact with Swarthy, knocking him in a heap on the ground.
He fell with a thud, just a little too close to me for comfort. I could smell iron from the blood and ozone from the electric storm emanating from him. He was dazed, and didn’t appear to see me still. I still took a step back, tugging on Sierra’s leash.
Xander thrust his arms upright once more, looking up towards the sky, chanting unintelligible words (to me, anyway) toward the clouds. He pulled his hands down, bringing with them a jagged strike of blue lightning towards Swarthy.
My attacker called out with terror, and tried to duck behind his hands, but he didn’t have time. The lightning struck Swarthy right in the heart; jets of lightning streaking out from his body and towards the ground, spinning around him like a wheel.
One final yell from Swarthy, and with a crash of thunder, Swarthy exploded in a burst of bright light. Only ash and pieces of his clothing remained, flying out from what was his body.
With a sweep of his hand Xander pulled the funnel down to the ground. It swept up any ash and grossness and pulled it into the air. “Tāxiàn!” He shouted to the sky, thrusting his arm upward, and the tornado did as it was apparently commanded, bringing the remains of the obliterated Swarthy up to the clouds.
The funnel disappeared, and the storm subsided. The last of the rain fell, leaving only the normal cloudy day that was before.
Xander let out a strained sigh. He wiped the rain off his brow, flicking his fingers, spraying water droplets to the ground. He pinched a section the t-shirt that was clinging to his chest—showing off a hint of defined pectorals—and shook it, trying to shake the water out.
I cocked a brow, still clutching the weapon. Well now…wet t-shirt contest. I could deal with this! Crazy, supernatural demon-boy, or not.
As if hearing my thoughts, Xander grinned. He glanced around, speaking into the air, “You can come out now.”