Resistance (7 page)

Could it be a bit of leftover ‘anxiety’ from having a
rock thrown at me when she saw me sitting in her pathway? Or maybe
her instinct was to start throwing knives, had her brother not
laughed it off and drug her away? Yes — yes, that is a good
assumption.

I huff at myself and leap down to another branch.
This is stupid. If I’m not going to get my shit together and at
least offer my assistance, I might as well leave and find a group
that might not shoot to kill on sight.

As I am considering how long it will take me to get
to Chicago or maybe Denver, where the people might be a little
saner, I see the sleepy guard — Sean I think his name is —
lingering around the Dolan’s backyard. He should be out patrolling
the perimeter again, I remember. Once again I am intrigued by
something that is none of my business, and I jump down lower on the
tree to see him better. He’s with someone, but the leaves shield
them. Sean is speaking. “…sleeping. We could go in, get freak-o,
and get out without even waking her up.”

“I don’t know why you’re attached to her,” a flat
voice replies. “Her parents are gone. Stage a break-in and slit her
throat.”

“You’re saying
you
don’t want her?” Sean
hisses. “And I’m
not
‘attached’.”

The other man doesn’t reply for a moment and I lean
forward on the branch I’m perched on, trying to get a glimpse of
his face, but I slip and end up hanging by one paw. An involuntary
yelp shoots out of my mouth and I abandon trying to see the man;
instead vaulting myself up and away from them before I am seen.

“What was that?” the faceless man says, an edge of
concern giving tone to his words.

Sean looks up in the trees and shakes his head. “A
bird or something. No big—”

“I’m out,” the other man says. “Grow a pair and
handle her, Sean.
Don’t
make me tell you again.”

Sean opens his mouth to say something, but retreating
footsteps stop him. He groans and looks between the houses sharing
the darkened yard and shakes his head before rushing off in the
same direction, back towards his post.

Handle her? I think to myself. Who could they be
talking about besides Fi? The only other ‘her’ that lives in either
house at this time is a mother of four, and with the content of
their conversation that simply makes no sense.

The girl is a moving target, and I’ll bet money she
doesn’t even realize she’s got a rat in her midst. Leaving now is
no longer an option. I can’t walk away when I know someone is going
to get hurt or killed if I do. I sigh and make up my mind — it’s
time I grow a pair of my own and enter the picture.

Early the following morning I sneak out of the
compound, passing Sean as I go. He’s asleep and therefore does not
try to kill me again. I am almost disappointed that I didn’t get to
see him start crying for mama over one tiny little fox, but I
suppose it’s for the best. An animal dragging back clothing might
raise suspicion, and I need none of that today.

It isn’t even dawn yet. There is a light mist hanging
in the air, creating a dampness I find uncomfortable. I hate
spring. It’s not a far fetch to believe — I am meant to be in an
autumnal atmosphere, and well…pollen and daily rain just doesn’t
fit the bill. I shake the dew out of my fur and carefully morph
back into my humanoid form. Joints crack and pop back into place
and I wince a little. It’s never been a fun part of being Fae — the
shifting aspect — but it’s usually easier when I’ve done it more
than once in over half a year.

The humid air sticks to my skin immediately and I
scowl, but I slip into the clothes I have nonetheless. I am
thankful I had the forethought to bring my jacket; an old charcoal
gray thing I lifted from a friend of mine. It was probably the
nicest thing he owned, but he never wore anything to keep warm,
anyway. He probably doesn’t even realize it’s gone, and if he does,
he’s smart enough to know I borrowed it…and that he will probably
never get it back.

I pull the coat tighter over my shoulders and take a
seat on the grass. It, too, is wet from last night, and it seeps
into my jeans. Ignoring it, I rest my head against the old oak and
wait. The shadows lead me to believe dawn is just breaking, meaning
she will be leaving her house momentarily.

I am watching the outline a white dandelion has made,
keeping track of time, when I hear oncoming footsteps. I don’t look
up until the steady beating of her feet on the dirt path slow and
then stop. She’s panting from her work out; her shirt is dark with
sweat, her long, dark hair tied up behind her head. She’s watching
me, and she knows full well I don’t belong here. I expect her to
draw a knife, scream, or lunge at me, but what she does…is
smile.

“Hi,” she says sweetly. Her smile grows wider at my
complete confusion; her perfect white teeth on full display for the
world to see. I slowly raise a brow at her as she takes a few steps
closer, still beaming like she’s running into an old friend.
“That’s close enough,” I say sharply once her shadow crosses over
my feet.

Her chest is still rising and falling at an increased
pace, but the smile remains firmly in place. She has a ring
piercing her left brow and a smattering of freckles over her cheeks
and nose. I’m not sure I like being close enough to see all this
right now, but at least she stopped moving. “I don’t think I know
you, sir,” she says, as if I didn’t say a thing. “Are you new?”

I almost laugh. As if she doesn’t know everyone who
comes in and out of this place. “Not really,” I admit, smirking
when her brow furrows. “You can drop the cutesy act. It really
doesn’t look good on you.”

Her smile is forced now, and it falls off her face
after I hold my ground. I suddenly understand that she was trying
to convince me she was harmless, non-threatening — she must have
immediately realized she didn’t just stumble upon me. “Who are
you?” she asks; her once sweet tone now harsh and blunt. “How did
you get in?”

“A friend,” I answer. “I’ll tell you how I got in
later. Any other deep and personal questions you’d like to
ask?”

Her hand inches down her thigh as she leans down ever
so slightly and hitches her shorts up. Knowing full well she isn’t
going for a sexy show, I inhale and realize just how many iron
weapons she has hidden beneath her shirt and shorts. “I have all
the friends I need right now, and if you don’t tell me how you got
in here within the next ten seconds, I’m afraid you won’t have much
of a later to look forward to.”

Her statement might have been more nerve shattering
had she been able to look me in the eye when she said it. I roll my
eyes and wave my hand at her. “Keep that thing in your pants, okay?
I’m not here to play with your ego, or cause you bodily injury, or
any other terrible thing I’m sure your mind is dreaming of right
now.”

She pulls in a deep breath and huffs at me; her
emerald green eyes narrowing in irritation. “Your
name—
now
—or you’ll be digging this out of your gut. I’m NOT
fooling around with you.”

I can’t hold in the chuckle at that, and I bite my
tongue to keep from pointing out her use of words.
I’m well
aware we haven’t fooled around before…I would remember,
is
fighting to get past my tongue, but “Flint,” falls out of my mouth
before I can stop it. I pause; choking on air, in total disbelief
that I really just told her my real name. Everyone — including most
of my family — believes my first name is Keegan. I do that to keep
my true name from coming out. Once you have a Fae’s full name you
pretty much have them on strings, and it never ends well for the
former. But I can’t exactly take it back now, can I? So I just sigh
and add, “My name is Flint.”

She shakes her head, as if unimpressed with my
answer. I narrow my eyes and she says, “My name is Fianna and I am
in charge here. Why are you here
, Flint
?”

The way she says my name sets my teeth on edge and I
smirk at her again, knowing it’s unsettling. “I know who you are,”
I say, shitty grin fully in place, and she bristles. “And I can
guarantee you won’t believe me if I told you.”

She’s still for a moment, watching for any movement I
might make, and then the blade previously sheathed on her thigh is
out and at her side, ready for use. I suppress a sigh. “This is
iron, Flint.”
No shit, really? I thought it was plastic
wear.
“I’m not afraid to use it. I don’t care if you think I’ll
believe you or not —
tell me now.
Why are you here? How long
have you been inside the city? Who are you looking for?”

She edges forward as her voice grows louder, and
animalistic instinct tells me she isn’t planning on waiting for any
answers. I raise a hand and the grass beneath her feet comes alive
with hot, wild flames, inches away from her legs. She yelps,
scrambles backwards and somehow manages not to fall on her ass. Her
eyes are comically wide as she looks back at me, the confusion and
shock making her look her age for the first time.

“I said you were close enough,” I explain, and let
the fire die away. It reignites in her eyes when the realization
that I could have lit her on fire hits her, and I know telling her
I had them completely under control, that she was safe, will get me
nowhere. “You’re not very fond of conversing, are you?” I ask
instead. I am very good at digging myself deeper into piles of
crap.

“Well
excuse
me,” she says with a scowl. “I
don’t normally converse with strange Fae men that just
show
up
out of nowhere on my morning run. I guess I’m out of
practice.” She eyes the slight char on the grass, affirming what
just happened was real, and takes a few cautious steps back.

I slowly shift onto my knees and pull myself up into
a standing position. Her fist clenches tighter on the blade in her
hand and she takes another step away from me. I lift my hands in a
surrendering gesture before resting them in my front pockets and
leaning back on the tree. “I wouldn’t say I’m ‘strange’, really,” I
mutter lightly.

“You’re strange enough, in my opinion,” she says,
eyeing me like a wild animal.

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then,” I answer,
keeping my voice light and teasing.

“What do you want?” she asks again; the words coming
out as a shaken sigh. She’s rocking her weight back and forth from
foot to foot, ready to bolt.

“I’d like to help,” I finally say, and fully expect
her to laugh. “Enlist, so to speak.”

She stares at me for a full minute and bats her eyes.
Judging by the look on her face, she expected me to say something
else. I’ve stumped her. “What exactly do you think you can help us
with?”

“Oh, the list is long, Fi. But if things don’t
change, you’ll be drowning in much nastier Fae than myself in no
time,” I reply, and watch as her whole body tenses. “And something
tells me that’s not a common goal around here.”

“Other Fae? Coming here?” she asks. The thought has
already crossed her mind, and now that someone, one of the Fae, has
confirmed her suspicions, she’s terrified. Her eyes move from me to
the path she was just on, trying to figure out if she can outrun
me. “Why would they come here now?”

I’m about to answer her, but her constant twitching
is making me nervous. I huff. “God, love,” I snap, and she looks at
me funny. That was the desired effect. I’m not sure why ‘love’ is
her new nickname — I haven’t used that on anyone in years — but it
irritates her, so it fits. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve
done it by now, don’t you think? Take a breath.”

She watches me a moment longer before taking in a
slow breath, nodding and slightly softening her death grip on the
dagger. She is far from calm, but she seems to have relaxed just a
bit. She puffs up again, stands as straight as she possibly can and
says, “I want your word that you mean no harm to anyone in this
city. If you can give me that, you can come with me and we will
discuss how you can help us.”

Ah, she’s so official. Adorable.

Thing is, I am well aware there is at least one rat
in this city, and where there’s one, there’s a family. By telling
her I mean no harm to anyone, I am lying, and being Fae, that is
impossible on my part. Telling her I can’t agree with that
statement is also out of the question, so instead I say, “I mean no
harm to anyone who means no harm to you or myself. I’ll promise you
that.”

She nods, aware that I can’t lie to her, and puts her
knife away; casually wiping her hands on the fabric of her shorts.
“I can accept that. I won’t let any harm come to you from my people
if you stay true to your promise.”

Part of me wants to remind her I’m fully capable of
taking care of myself, but I let her have the moment and shrug.
“I’m full-blooded Fae, sweetheart. I made you a promise. I
physically can’t break it.”