Dark Seeker (4 page)

“Are you fast enough?”

“For what?” He laughed.

Janie reached behind her and removed the second dagger from her waistband. She flicked her wrist and wound the dagger into the air as if it were a football spiraling toward a receiver. The blade punctured his temple, knocking him down to all fours. His fleshy mass dissolved and both daggers clattered to the concrete floor.

Someone clapped. “Nice.”

“You’re back, great.” She retrieved her daggers from the ground, both covered in green goo.

Kai peeled what was left of his T-shirt over his head and threw it at her. She caught it with one hand. “Wipe them off. I’d hate to see you ruin those boots with demon blood,” he said.

She wiped both daggers, careful not to touch the demon blood; it burned human flesh like acid.

“Do you want your shirt back?” She held out the wad of shredded cotton. “How did it get so ripped up?”

“There was a group of them on the sixth floor. You must have found the one that got away, Mr. Telekinesis with a kick-ass mullet,” he said.

“And the girl?” Janie placed one dagger in her waistband and the other in her boot.

“She’s fine, back with her drunk friends. Other than a killer hangover, she shouldn’t remember anything tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Janie said. She looked down at the tattered charcoal-colored T-shirt in her hand. A clean lavender smell mixed with rotten vegetation filled her nose. “I’ll find a dumpster to throw it in. Once the blood dries, it won’t harm anyone.”

They coiled the ramp to the garage exit. Under the garage lights, Janie noticed two five-inch scars formed an X over his left pectoral muscle, where his heart used to beat, before he became a member of the undead. He wasn’t tan or porcelain white; there was a slight beige tint to his skin. Hers was darker. She tanned well in the summer, and kept a summer hue for most of the winter. Another perk of having a Native American heritage.

She eyed his naked chest. He wasn’t a large guy, but fit with sculpted, lean muscles and chiseled abs. She figured the fighting kept him in good shape. She still wondered why he killed his own kind, and why he’d just rescued a human. Her biggest question, though, was why he hadn’t attempted to fight her, let alone kill her
. He can’t be trusted
, she reminded herself.

He caught her staring. “Is something wrong?” They cornered the exit wall and headed down the sidewalk in the direction of the Orioles Stadium.

She looked away. “No, I just noticed your scar.”

Kai turned, making the scar less visible. “It’s nothing.” His words were sharp.

“You asked.”

“Forget I asked.” He pointed. “There’s a dumpster. Throw my shirt in there.”

Janie forced the heavy metal lid open and tossed the shirt into the rancid-smelling container.

They passed a homeless man who had found a place to sleep next to the heat of an old stone building. Everything he owned fit into an army-green canvas bag.

“I’ve got to catch the bus. You don’t have to walk with me. I can take care of myself.” He was too close for her comfort, and she widened her strides away from him.

“Your car is still in the shop?” He pulled a strange metal disk from his waistline and spit on the glossy material, shining it with his fingers.

“Yup, thanks to you.”

“I didn’t tell you to try to run me over with your car. You’ve had enough training to know you can’t kill me with a Honda Civic. Anyway, I’m too fast.”

Janie drew in an annoyed breath and spun around to confront him. “Speaking of training, lesson one of Seeker Training—never trust the undead.”

Kai laughed. “Interesting.”

She bit her tongue, upset she’d shared Seeker information with one of
them
. She couldn’t get too comfortable with him. “Look, if I’m not going to kill you, can you at least leave me alone?”

“I could drive you home,” he said.

“Even if I considered it, and I’m not considering it, do you even drive? What are you, like sixteen?”

“Eighteen, and I do drive.” He flipped the metal disk between two fingers. “Like any of that matters. I don’t follow human law anymore.”

“What is that?” She pointed to the disk.

“Something a friend gave me.”

Janie waited for him to elaborate, but he just flipped the disk in the air like a coin. She stifled the urge to yell
tails
. “Then where’s your car?”

The disk shot upward, past the tip of a Mini Mart sign, to the crest of a three-story row home. On its slow decent, the metal disk spun, growing larger and larger. Janie squinted. She swore she saw two tires form, and handlebars, then a tailpipe and a long seat. Her eyes widened. The vehicle levitated for a moment, and the Harley Davidson bounced to the ground.

“Are you just going to stand there? Get on.” Kai threw her a helmet.

She laughed, noticing the strip of flames across the side of the helmet. “Flames?”

“It’s fire, fire’s cool. Put it on.” He threw his leg over the seat and gripped the handlebars.

Janie clutched the helmet, hesitant. Was she really going to get on his motorcycle? She glanced down at the hilt peeking out of the top of her boot.
I should be driving my blade into his skull. Why haven’t I killed him yet?

Kai revved the engine. “Hello, earth to Janie. Let’s go. I don’t have all night.”

“Do you have somewhere you’ve got to be?” She glared at him.

He smirked. “Unless you want to confront the gang of Daychildren who are seconds from opening that door and sucking you into their lair, I’d get on.

CHAPTER 3

The old stone building, with its rounded façade and barred first floor windows, appeared desolate. A row home turned office building, closed for the evening with a brass plate fastened to the gray stone that read
Bower, Reed & Associates
.

Then the wooden door creaked open, releasing the sound of hissing demons. An arm reached through a crack in the door. Janie knocked the arm away, but another took its place. The hand grasped the front of her hoodie and banged her head roughly into the wooden door. The arm retracted again, smacking the side of her head into the unforgiving wooden frame. Janie stumbled to find her feet, but everything spun into blurred, dark shapes, and all she could taste was metal. She spit out blood, her tongue following the grove of her split top lip.

She collapsed. A strong arm wrapped around her waist and hoisted her onto a moving vehicle. Wind whisked through her hair. Her ponytail whipped around behind her head as the cold air froze her face. They moved at a brisk pace, snaking in and out, as if winding through an obstacle course. They lurched to one side and back in hard, jerky movements. She kept her eyes closed, too disoriented to open them. She was faintly aware of a pair of legs, and the scent of clean lavender and denim invaded her nose—
Kai
.

Slowly, she realized he had removed her from the Daychild’s lair. She hadn’t come prepared to take on an army of them. She realized that this time, Kai may have really saved her life. This didn’t change how she felt about him. He was one of them. He couldn’t be trusted.

The bike skidded to a stop. Janie opened her eyes, staring down at the asphalt and a black Sketcher. “You wear Sketchers?” she asked, still feeling a bit lightheaded. Kai lifted her upright so she straddled his lap.

“You’re asking me about my shoes?” He shook his head. “You’ve got serious issues. You almost got yourself killed, and you want to know what kind of shoes I wear.” He flipped her off him.

Janie stumbled to her feet, attempting to assess her surroundings. “I mean, thanks for getting me out of there. I didn’t realize—”
Aww
, her head hurt. She reached up to touch the searing pain. Her hair was wet, sticky and matted to her head. It felt as if there were an open gap in her head and her brains were sliding out. “Ouch.”

“You hit your head pretty hard. I’d watch those wooden door frames next time.”

It was too difficult to speak through the pain. “Where are we? Can you just take me home? I’ve had enough of you for one evening,” she managed to say.

“We’re at my place. I want to check out your head.” He booted the kick stand and dismounted from his bike. They stood in front of a red brick row home—concrete steps led to a house-length porch with green carpet resembling Astroturf. In front, the address was displayed in a multicolored stained glass window hanging directly above an oak front door. A three-window bay jutted out on the second level.

“I’m not going in there.” Janie crossed her arms stubbornly.

“Are you prejudiced?”

“Look, I don’t want to enter the home of a Daychild. One I should have killed days ago.” Janie turned her back to him, staring at a row of similar homes across the street. There were only slight differences. Some homes were missing the bay window and others were surrounded with chain-link fences. She winced, clenching her teeth too tightly; her head really hurt.

“Suit yourself. The bus stop’s down the block.” Kai started up the walk to his porch.

She spun back around. “You’re just going to leave me here, bleeding?”

“I told you to come in. What else do you want me to do? I don’t have to beg to get a girl.” He glanced down at his bare chest and smirked. “They come willingly.”

She ignored him. “Tell me one thing.”

“Go ahead.” He removed a key from his pocket and slid it into the deadbolt.

“How did you get that scar across you chest?”

Janie rested on one of two black leather couches. She scanned the stark white wall next to her for a mark or a ding, anything to indicate the house was inhabited. Not even one picture hung on the walls of the very simple room.

“You promised you’d tell me about your scar if I came in,” she said.

“I lied.” He disappeared up the steps and returned minutes later wearing a clean navy blue T-shirt.

“You can’t lie. It’s not right.”

“I’m undead, what do I care what’s right?” He sat down across from her on a dark rectangular coffee table. One lonely coaster sat upon it.
I guess he doesn’t have many guests. Shocking!

Janie remembered the disk he had retrieved from his belt. Her eyes shot to his waistline. “Well, then, at least tell me how a small metal disk turned into a motorcycle.”

“I told you. I got it from a friend.”

“What kind of friend?” She leaned forward, somewhat interested.

“A witch,” he dismissed. Kai grasped her hand and guided her to the edge of the cushion. “Now, no more questions. Let me see your head.” He twisted her head to examine the injured area. He fumbled through her hair, tugging at her sore scalp.

“What do you mean no more questions—and,
ouch
—that hurt.” She drew back from him. “Can’t you be gentle?”

“You need stitches.” He reached for her head again.

She swatted him away. “If I didn’t before, I certainly do now.”

“Then have someone else look at it,” he said.

“I’m not going to the hospital, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

Kai stood and walked toward what appeared to be the hallway entrance to the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” she said.

“To get a needle and thread.”

“You
are
not.” She shot to her feet and followed him down the hallway.

“Chill out. I’m just kidding. I’m calling my friend.”

“The witch,” she said.

He stopped and pivoted to face her. She ran right into his chest.

“I do have more than one friend, you know.” He reached around her and grabbed his cell off the circular kitchen table. The metal table only provided seating for two. Not that Janie knew anyone who would want to keep him company there.

“Then who are you calling?” she said.

“The witch.”

“I thought you said you have more than one friend.”

“I do.”

Janie shook her head. “Never mind. You’re so frustrating.”

“Right back at you. Why do you look so nervous? You’re supposed to be tough; thicken up.” He pinched her arm.

She stepped back. Her back hit the wall. “I’ve never met a witch. Is she green with a pointed hat and—”

“…a broomstick?” he mocked and flashed an arrogant grin.

“Don’t make fun of me.” She put her hands on her hips. She wanted to pull out her dagger and end her misery. This was why she had only two friends. She didn’t get along with people, and she definitely did
not
get along with the undead.

Seconds later, Kai ended the phone call. “She’s on her way. Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable…if that’s possible?” He reached into a small stainless-steel mini-fridge. It rested on his black, polished-stone countertop. Like the rest of the first floor, the walls were hospital white, but everything else—the furniture, drapes and cabinets—were either metallic or dark and solid. She examined the hardwood floor, the mahogany-stained flooring so dark it blended with her black boots.