I didn't want to get into it, thinking about it made my chest hurt. I said, “Yeah."
"Hmm," Kim said. His expression grew thoughtful.
Gretchen said, "This party will be a way to let off some steam! Should I bake?"
"God no!" Kim said. He looked genuinely disgusted at the idea, and it made me smile.
"Hey, it should be fine. You said nothing edible." I smirked. Gretchen and I were well matched in the kitchen. We could both burn boiling water.
"Har har, Dianna," said Gretchen.
Kim chuckled. "No foodstuff."
Wen came out, and we all went over to the mats to watch him demonstrate the new lesson. A man with brown and black dreadlocks was with him.
Wen said, "This is Luiz. He is here to show you a powerful version of the roundhouse kick."
Gretchen sat next to Kim, and I. Ashley sat by us, along with Jules. Jules had been shot not long ago, but it didn’t stop her from training. Wen partnered with her while she recovered.
Jules was one of those people whose appearance was so frail it looked like their bones and bodies would snap in the wind. I was considered petite. Juliet, or Jules, made me look big. There was something vulnerable about her. Like if you didn't help her, she'd fall over, and her fragile neck would break. But I’d felt her strength when she’d made it clear I wasn’t welcome at Wen’s unless I had a badge and dislocated my shoulder.
We sneered at each other as our eyes met.
Wen brought over the kicking dummy, which was a worn brown punching bag propped up with some wooden support. Everyone called him Henry.
I didn’t get the joke.
Wen said, "Watch carefully."
Wen backed up.
Luiz fell to a crouching position, balancing on his right hand with his left arm straight but loose in front of his crouch. He blasted forward with his left leg straightening, as his body began to twist upwards. His left hand became a pivot point. All the force and strength pushed into his straightening right leg. The disguised roundhouse kick impacted the dummy with a solid thumping noise and creaking of boards.
Luiz stood; his face still serious.
That was a heck of a kick. I'd never seen anything like it. Not in Tae, Karate, Jiu Jitsu, Kung Fu. What was it?
Luiz gave a couple more demonstrations, where he slowed down the first motions while Wen explained. We all practiced sections of the movements; just the positioning and the twisting without the kicking.
As class ended, Kim came up to me. "Hey, Dianna, let me walk you to your car."
"Okay. Is it about the party?" I would probably have to go.
He frowned.
"No. I need to tell you something." Kim kept his voice low when we were outside, "Keep your doors locked. Do not open it to strangers. And maybe keep your hair under a hat or something. Or keep your hoodie up?" He looked at me intently. He bit the inside of his cheek in thought.
"Can you tell me why?" Kim was making me curious. Living with the fear of actual monsters made it hard to worry about the human variety.
He shook his head, "Not really. Just that you fit a victim profile. Just be extra alert, okay?"
It'd be an unlucky day for the attacker to pick me. The thought cheered me. We got to my car, and Kim noticed the new damage on the hood.
"Who'd you hit," he asked.
"Actually, I was the one bounced off the hood," I said before I thought about it.
Kim frowned, "Someone attacked you? Did you report it?"
"Just some ganger. He’s gone now." The image of his red shoes filled my vision. I needed to leave. "I need to go."
"File a report, Dianna."
"Sure," I said.
Kim made a rude noise and remark in Korean. I got in my car, and he leaned down in the open car door. He smiled, "Don't forget the party!"
"Like Gretchen would let me."
He waved and walked back to the gym.
I turned up the radio, listening to some holiday songs. My eyes examined the shadows on the streets whenever I had to stop at a red light. Were they moving?
My chest tightened painfully, and breathing was hard. I sped the rest of the way. I tried to keep present. The past can't hurt you unless you let it, is what my therapist said. I said bullshit. The past constantly shapes us all as much as the present. You can pretend it didn't happen, but not for long.
Chapter Five
Roth was there when I stepped into work at seven. He had already taken off his tie and jacket. His sleeves weren't yet rolled up, but something had agitated him if he was already tossing off his suit jacket.
No one else had arrived. It was why I came early. The office was shared by five of us.
It was decent sized. We each had our own desk. We minions had the same setup, facing the boss' desk.
"Good morning, Miss Grant," Roth said. His Irish accent making the words sound kinder than his sneer meant them.
"Good morning, sir," I said nicely.
Roth got up and came over. His pale blue eyes were full of longing as our gaze met. He took off his cufflinks and started rolling up his sleeves. His muscles bunched up.
"Okay, what is it?"
Frustration was in his eyes as he said, "I just don't understand, Dianna."
"I'm sorry I hurt you, Roth." I was sincerely sorry. "But we want different things. I don't want to be locked up like a princess in some tower."
He said, "I don't understand. We were well matched in intellect, passion, and had fun. What did I do wrong?" His Irish accent was thick, which indicated he was worked up.
"Roth, I can't keep apologizing." My chest grew tighter.
"I want you. I cannot comprehend why you would burn so hot and then freeze me out." His face was scrunched up in anger.
I started up my work, ignoring him. Only a fool talks to one who does not listen.
Roth went out the office exit, slamming it shut as he left.
I breathed out. He had a temper. I let out a sigh.
McMurray showed up at five to eight, closely followed by McDaniels and O'Brian. They all avoided me.
Everyone was extra-nice to Roth. Bringing him in fruit, muffins, and some ridiculously expensive coffee blend. Occasionally, O'Brian glared at me from beneath her overly large glasses.
Roth preened under the attention and seemed less stressed. He showed us our new project. Everything we'd been doing was going to a new team. McDaniels and O'Brian were headed to help them. The change would most likely be permanent. McMurray would be off to help Roth's boss, Mr. Burke, one of the accountants who made and owned Burke and Walsh. Roth and I would handle the work Walsh needed to be finished by the end of the month.
"Hold it," I said after the others had packed up to go to their new assignments.
Roth came over to me. His voice was full of his usual charm, "What is it, Miss Grant?" So it was Miss again.
"Mr. Craig, how can just you and I help Mr. Walsh?"
He smiled, "I guess you'll just have to spend some extra time here at the office." He whistled and went to his desk, "Take a five-minute break, Miss Grant."
Spending time alone with someone you rejected was a new level of awkward. Add to that a steaming pile of guilt, and I was close to looking at job adverts. Ultimately, we just had different ideas of what being together meant. To me, being together meant being partners. Pushing each other to be the best we could be. For him, it meant something else entirely.
As I got up to leave, Roth said, "Excellent work, Dianna."
I waved goodbye. "See you tomorrow, Roth."
"See you," Roth said absentmindedly as he worked.
The day hadn't been too awful. I had expected it to be far worse. Instead, Roth was just angry and hurt, wanting an explanation for something emotional. Emotions weren't logic. You couldn't write an equation and get the solution.
Chapter Six
Leaving the building, I waved at the security guard on duty. I noticed Ham wasn't outside in his spot again. I hoped he had gone to a shelter. Even in the
encased walkway, it was close to freezing.
The night sky was beautiful. It was clear, which meant no snow for tonight. The stars twinkled away inside their blanket of black. The nighttime shift was on the streets, but traffic got better after seven at night. From three to seven, traffic was awful. Like sitting in a parking lot.
As often as possible I walked to work. It was better for my mental health and the safety of drivers who thought traffic laws were suggestions. Tonight I needed to walk.
Humming a holiday jingle, I thought about the man I'd bumped into at Whisper's again. The other man with him had called him D. He was strong enough to push the monster back. He had obvious training as well. The thought of not being alone started to fill me. I shook it off.
So far the two men I'd picked for any kind of relationship had been wrong choices. My first love had been my first boyfriend. It sounds incredibly lucky. However, the fact that Max had slipped drugs into my drink to make certain he'd gotten into my pants had taken the shine off of it. Add to it, the fact I hadn't seen Max since Lake Clare, and it had ended before it had started. So far, Roth was my longest relationship. Two weeks. It was kind of pathetic.
Warm brown eyes filled my mind. Along with the smells of sandalwood. As I got in my car, I decided to let it go. Relationships led to a path of unnecessary anguish. Instead, I'd choose to find my trouble elsewhere. Walking, I thought, the night was still young.
My boots made very little noise on the pavement. After a couple blocks, I tightened my hoodie strings. It was good for warmth, but also kept my hair tucked away from grabbing hands. After seven blocks, my legs felt warm and loose. I breathed a sigh of relief. I could do this. I could handle work, Roth, my nighttime duties, and the resurgence of old demons.
I saw a flash of light and realized that someone in the alleyway had a metal weapon. Odds were on a gun, second a knife. Moving fast, I dodged to the right as the man jumped out to attack me. He was young, maybe sixteen. He had on a green shirt under an open jacket, tight jeans, and sneakers that were probably more expensive than all my utility bills put together. His tight braids were dyed in shades of green. His gaze was cold as he looked at me.
"Hood off," his words were slurred as if he was drunk. He had a knife.
I looked around. Sure enough, five more men were moving in. All older than the kid. The other men were wearing suits and coats. What was this?
I held up my hands. "I'm unarmed."
"Hood off, bitch." His words were clearer and more staccato this time and held a rhythm to them. Maybe he missed his calling as a poet.
"Okay," I said. I moved my hoodie back slowly as the other men approached. I was confident I could take them if necessary.
The kid looked to the men.
One of the suits held up a picture. "Holy shit, it's her!" the six-foot walking muscle said. "It looks like her!"
The others seemed elated by this news. What the hell? I pulled up my hood.
The first ape in a suit grabbed for me. However, the kid was on me faster than I expected. His knee connected to my gut with crunching noises, and I fell to the ground in a ball. He was strong. Stronger than a human. What was happening?
They all looked human.
The wound on my side ached, and the tape holding it together threatened to peel off as blood flowed from it again. I coughed up some vomit and blood while a big guy in a suit lifted me up. Another one was talking into a cell phone.
"We got her, general."
The kid smiled, and it was full of malice.
The goon held me up. His arms were on my upper arms. The way he held me was the way you hold someone helpless. Good news for me. I took in a deep breath. As I breathed out, I smashed the back of my head into his throat.
His hands let me go. I fell into a crouch. Just in time for the kick from the kid in green braids to send me flying. The force was strong enough to catapult the man who'd been holding me to cushion the blow from the brick wall of the alley. But crap luck held and my head knocked against it. Hard.
I fell into a kneeling position. Everything had doubles. The kid approached.
"Dead Red Girl, huh? More like the General's bitch." He and the suits laughed and made lewd comments.
I held my head and side. Partially for a show, you-beat-me posturing. Partially because it hurt.
"Who is the General," my voice cut through their laughter. My sight had gotten damaged, and everything had twins.
"He is about to be your master, little girl." Coming from someone in duplicate this was peculiar.
"Who are you?" If he were going to answer, I'd ask before repaying his kindness.
"I'm one of his best men, bitch." Both of his faces smiled, showing off his gold and diamond teeth. He licked his lips. "You are in for such a treat." He shuddered as if remembering something pleasurable.
"So, the general wants to see me?" I shivered. I felt the blood leaking out from the back of my skull. That wasn't great. "If he wants me alive, can I get one of you to stitch up my head?" Everything started to sway.
"Shit, Dem, you hit her too hard." The gorilla in a suit sounded worried.
The kid, or Dem, shrugged unconcernedly. The copy of him did the same thing. "He can heal her."
What? "Is the general a doctor," I asked.
"He is magic, bitch," said the one called Dem.
Whoever the general was, he had magical abilities. Normally, that would sound nice to meet someone seeking me out who also had abilities. But this punk had strength and whoever he served was probably just as big a prick.
"How did you know who I was?"
One of the goons laughed, "We didn't."
Another one said, "Six months of searching paying off!"
"What do you mean?" My stomach tightened. What had they done?
Dem snickered. "Well, we all had fun with the other bitches that weren't you, Red." He grabbed his crotch and moaned. "While they were alive."
Crimson slid over my sight, correcting the double vision.
"Holy shit!" one of them shouted.
I charged Dem, the leader. My fist missed. He dodged to the right. Perfectly into my flying knee, hitting his ribs with a loud crack. Blood flew from his mouth as I drove him to the ground. These pieces of garbage would pay.
My fist came down on Dem's chest, the sound of the blow like a hammer breaking concrete. His eyes rolled up.
A hand jerked me off him, lifting me up like a stray kitten. I splayed my arms and legs out. Gravity worked, and he stumbled, having to shift with my weight that was suddenly cumbersome. Taking advantage of the misstep, I slammed my head under his chin. His head snapped back as he fell to the ground. The remaining three had out devices with a blue spark running between two prongs.
They came at me, wary now.
How many people had they hurt? I used my speed and strength. I ran and then bounced off the wall both knees out, hitting the first one in the face.
He fell to the ground.
As I stood up, currents blasted through me. My body arched and spasmed. Pain filled every nerve ending.
Screaming, I dropped to my knees.
One of them came closer, kicking me in my face. I fell down, unable to raise my arms and hands for cushion.
"We got her!"
"General better be here soon. She is one tough bitch."
"Should we shoot her some? He can fix it?"
As they debated shooting me, the currents still coursed through me.
As the one man started to respond, a sword arched neatly decapitating him. The stranger with the indigo hair moved so fast he looked like a blur. The blood splattered the one called D as he stabbed one of the goons in the neck with the shining knife. As the head was falling from the man's shoulders, D's fist and knife punched a hole in another man's throat. Both suits fell over as the head hit the ground with a sickly plopping noise.
My rescuers switched off the shocking devices.
I stopped flopping around like a fish out of water, but the searing ago
ny continued. The air stank like burning rubber from my boot's soles.
D said something in a language I didn't know. But he called the other man Alec.
Alec decapitated everyone while D lifted me, even the kid called Dem. My head fell against D's broad shoulder.
All of my muscles spasmed painfully, like having a Charlie horse everywhere at once.
"Shh. It will pass. Breathe deeply." Dominick said.
Alec wiped his sword off on one of the dead before sheathing it.
"She okay?"
Dominick said something in that language again.
What a jerk. As more cramps hit me, I grit my teeth.
My brain sought an escape from all the pain. Everything started to go dark.
"She has a head wound," I heard Alec say.
Their voices receded.
The world was brightly colored. Here everything was warm. The yellow sun lit the cobalt sky. I watched the puffs of white clouds drifting above. A large tanned hand bruised and battered held mine. The hand of the man I love.
Smiling I turned to kiss him.
A jerk took me out of it, and agony lanced through my skull. Reflex had my limbs trying to punch and kick, but they did little more than tremor and shake.
We were inside a vehicle. The minivan? I tilted my sore head up at Alec.
His face had blood splatters on it. He used a finger and wiped something off my cheek. "Shh. It's okay. We will get you patched up." His voice was low. His eyes were similar to his brothers. But up close, he had more gold flecks in them. His lashes were darker too, black rather than brown.
I tried to think.
Alec’s black and indigo hair fell into his face, blocking one eye. His arms tightened, and he said, "You have to rest."
New spasms caused my head to smack into his shoulder.
“Ouch,” he said.
I tried to say sorry, but my speech sounded slurred. “Sss ree,” came out instead.
Alec stroked my cheek. "It will be okay." He said in D's direction, "Dominick, she's in bad shape," his voice sounded tense. “The head wound needs the doctor.”
"Patience, brother."
So, they were Dominick and Alec, and they were brothers.
Dead Wrong Page 4