Chapter 4
1190 Words
The first thing I noticed was the lack of windows. “Figures,” I muttered. It had been too easy getting to the bathroom without complications. Perhaps Logan had already known there was no escape route from here.
Or maybe the acting, the food and the jacket I left behind had done the job and he was waiting for me to return. Or maybe he was just dense. I recalled the sharp look he had cast around the food court and shook my head. No, dense he was not.
But perhaps he hadn"t been hired by the scientists and his interest had been genuine. I sighed inwardly. I did always attract unwanted attention.
When I was younger, I considered it a blessing.
I searched the stalls for company and—as expected—I was alone. I went back to the door and cracked it open. The man was still where I left him, mopping coffee with soggy napkins. He looked distracted, but he"d definitely see me if I left this way.
His interest might have been genuine and, the fact that he seemed to be local gave him credibility, but I wasn"t taking chances.
What if the PSS found out I"d holed there for the night and it just happened Logan was handy?
Hello, paranoia.
And there had been the speech that the vampire, fire mage, and werewolf gave me prior to their attack, which had been odd and seemed rehearsed and totally something the PSS would insist upon. Something about a contract and ten-year documents and if I didn"t obey and accompany them like a good girl, then they wouldn"t have to hurt me and yada yada yada, or something to that extent. Either I hadn"t given Logan the opportunity to recite it or he"d heard what happened to the previous hired men who"d tried shanghaiing me and decided a more deceitful approach was necessary.
Not that I had intended to kill any of his predecessors. My head still hurt from whatever that psychic thing I"d done against the vampire had been, and guilt and nausea walked hand in hand where the fire mage was concerned.
The mage had found me the very next day after I"d escaped, in the parking lot of a diner where I had stopped for my first meal outside the PSS in nine years, and had threatened to burn me alive if I didn"t accompany him back. In hindsight, I could tell his threat and demonstrative white ball of fire had been nothing but a perfunctory warning, but back then I hadn"t known that. Back then, I hadn"t yet understood I was nothing but a paycheck for people like him. All I"d cared was that I didn"t want to die so soon after I"d managed to escape, even if I had vowed to myself never to let the PSS catch me alive again. So I"d reached deep inside me, past the anger I feared, into the slumbering part that lived in the depth of my soul, and without giving myself a chance to think twice, yanked it out and engulfed myself with it.
Back then I had no idea that the fire would bounce back and attack the mage, though it had crossed my mind the PSS had once tried coaxing this reaction before and failed.
So there the mage was, lying dead by his own weapon, adding one more guilt to the pile of accumulating regret. I"d buried the body then, not out of respect but out of fear that the PSS would realize what I"d done and send the next merc sooner. Though I remember seeing a figure on the other side of the diner"s glass door, no one had come out to inquire why I was digging a hole with my bare hands. No one had seen me, no one had heard the commotion.
Back then, I didn"t wonder why.
* * *
I paced the length of the bathroom, trying to figure out a way to get out of there without any undue confrontations. Werewolves were notoriously vicious fighters and vampires were fast and strong. It was a dangerous combination to have for an enemy. True, it was the made vampires who were the strongest and fastest, but even born ones had some semblance to their dead—or undead—kin. That is, if I was reading Logan"s aura correctly. My gut tightened with anxiety at the possibility he was something else, something new.
It was only when I began gnawing down my already short thumbnail that I spotted the ventilation on top of one of the stalls.
“Why not?” I murmured. It worked in the movies.
I locked the bathroom and advanced to the third stall where the ventilation window was, stood atop the closed toilet and peered inside.
It would be a tight fit and the dust would stick all over my wet clothes, but I was desperate.
I reached for the shutter, jerking my hand as it transformed into talons and fur and a pinkish padded palm/paw. Underneath the fur there were soft, flexible scales, on the palm the pads were coarse, like the tongue of a cat. I inserted my talons in the narrow slots and pried the cover out, some of the screws flying as far as the sink. I was confident the racket would be muffled by the pounding rain.
I peered inside the airway, jerking my hand back to normal. The inside dead-ended about ten feet ahead and opened both to the right and left. I sighed, pushed my purse inside, a last thought going for my baby blue Prada I"d gotten for a song and a whistle. Then I followed behind my monstrosity of a purse. I took the left and kept going, taking random turns, dust gathering and sticking to my wet pants.
Outside, the downpour was still in full swing and I was soaked to the bones in mere seconds. I cursed the foolhardy decision of leaving Thunder by the laundry to give my legs some much-needed stretching. I ran all the way, and still, by the time I reached the laundromat I was freezing cold, turning into a light shade of blue. I stuffed my warm-dry clothes into my duffle, knowing they were going to wrinkle something fierce and dashed to the truck, throwing the duffle on the back and climbing inside. At least the rain washed away the worst of the coffee and dust.
There was a flash of light, instantly followed by the tumble of thunder. I looked around and… nothing. There was nothing. No cars, no people, nothing but thunder and rain. Rain and rain and more rain. A downpour like this one would eventually be discussed in history books. Followed by a religious title, the talk of doom.
Bad omen. I shivered and reached for the ignition key. Fortunately, it roared to life at the first try, and I slammed the gas pedal and sped away from that forgotten small town.
Maybe I should give big cities a try, seeing that the PSS were surely in on my small town plan.
- Writer
