Fire Baptized (2 page)

Pulling the satchel closer to me, I increased the heat in my body and only saw steam. I raked my fingers through my dreadlocks, dreading whatever lay ahead. I was wet, defenseless, and just wanted to sit in my apartment, lie in MeShack’s arms, and cry. But I had let Shorty live, putting another female in a similar predicament. I tried drying my hand against the inside of my satchel as my feet carried me forward.

“No, don’t!” the woman said. “I have a kid!”

Biting my lip, I heard her scream again from the alley in front of me. I stopped at the edge and crouched down until my fingers touched the sticky pavement.

“Please!” she said as I peeked around the corner. A large figure wearing a raincoat and hat stood over her. The hat’s wide brim hid the figure’s face and brand. Relief filled me. It wasn’t Shorty.

“No!” The woman held up her hands.

The mystery figure’s arm rose. Moonlight reflected off a knife. The short-lived relief drained from my body. He grabbed her hand and held it up. Fear wormed its way down my body.

What should I do?

A bang came from behind me, making my head snap back. Wires swung from a utility pole and splashed into a puddle. Electric sparks flew up in the air. Glowing blue lines of electricity formed a wall that cracked and popped each time the rain hit it.

Fuck. There goes my detour to get her help.

I bit my lip. Home was three blocks ahead. I could run across the alley’s entrance and get MeShack to help her. The problem with running across the entrance was that I couldn’t tell if the knife holder was a Shapeshifter or not. The average Shifter could snap my neck before I took a second step.

“Yemaya! Help me!” she screamed. I hoped her goddess was listening, because we could both use the help.

In a blur, he raised the knife and chopped off her hand. Blood spurted out of her stump and fell to the pavement. Her screams scraped against my eardrums. Shock beat against my head. My heartbeat became erratic. I had to do something. Against all sane thoughts, I crawled across the alley’s opening, shaking and trying to hide behind boxes sprawled around the entrance.

“Help me! You, right there,” she screamed. “You! Help me!”

I froze.

She isn’t talking to me, right?

My head turned toward the alley. Moonlight hit her eyes as they focused on me.

I should have run.

“Help me!” She flailed her arms as he pinned her down with one hand.

I could have helped you if you hadn’t made him notice me.

I jumped up, put my hands in the air, and kept my eyes on the dark figure as I took a step back.

“Please,” she begged.

He put the knife to his side, turning his face to me, his features still hidden by the shadow beneath his hat’s brim. I resisted the urge to release the scream lodged in my throat.

“I have a gun.” I put my hand in the satchel.

He inclined his head.

She started to get up, holding the injured arm. Blood dripped down her dress and onto her leg. He pushed her down.

I edged a few steps to the side, hoping he didn’t notice.

“I’ll call the habbies!” I backed away a few more inches. He remained standing. Maybe he wasn’t a Shifter.

“Go ahead. Shoot,” she sobbed.

“Don’t push me.” I formed a fireball with the hand that was inside the satchel. “Let her go and leave.”

I felt the ball’s heat, pulled it out to throw it, and then watched the wind extinguish the fire. I almost pissed on myself.

“No,” she cried, seeing my empty hand. My stomach twisted into a knot.

“I see you! I know what you look like,” I lied, pointing to him.

Within two heartbeats, he raised his knife above her head. It came down in a flash. She fell to the ground like a sack of bricks. Blood sprayed from her open wounds, splattering everywhere and pooling around her now limp body.

Screams escaped my throat. I raced away. Streetlights blurred past me. My lungs burned. I never looked back and raced by the Aztec Hotel, my arms flailing in the air.

The Caged View Apartments’ sign appeared, swinging back and forth with the wind. A chair was wedged between the lobby door and its post, propping it open. I kicked the chair into the lobby, pulling the door closed behind me. The lock clicked. I raced upstairs, never looking back and hoping to any god or goddess who listened that he wasn’t behind me, following me home and waiting to kill the only witness to the murder he’d just committed.

The bed slammed into the wall every second as Joanne’s loud moans filled the air. The kitchen and MeShack’s bedroom shared a wall. Every time MeShack had sex, he damaged it.

“Oh, daddy, give it to me!” Joanne yelled.
Daddy?

I rolled my eyes. A joint lay between my shaking fingers.
Is the woman from the alley dead? Did the man follow me home?
I brought the joint to my lips, inhaling the bluish smoke of marijuana and lotus petals, and wiped tears from my face.

“Right there!” Joanne moaned.

My book sat in front of me. It was Freud’s psychoanalytical approach to Vampires. Holding a yellow highlighter in my hand, I wondered if witnessing a possible murder would give me a pass on tomorrow’s discussion and inhaled more blue smoke. The words on the page merged into a blurry black and white pattern.

“Oh, daddy!”

“Turn around.” MeShack’s voice thundered through the walls.

I exhaled, rubbed my eyes, and put my feet on our table, which was a huge door MeShack had found. He’d painted it black and then placed it over cinder blocks.

“Don’t stop, daddy!”

I could clearly hear the booming sound of MeShack’s bed banging into his bedroom wall. Pieces of plaster fell from the ceiling and crashed onto the kitchen floor.

“Come back here,” MeShack said over Joanne’s shrieks. “Don’t run from it.”

“Yes!” Joanne screamed. “Yes!”

I lifted my head, crossing my fingers. The bed’s pounding stopped. A beautiful silence filled the apartment.
Finally.
I started reading and almost finished a page when loud purring vibrated throughout the apartment.
Son of a mixed bitch.
I closed my book.

One downside of living with a Were-cheetah is that he purrs when he’s happy. At times, the apartment vibrated all day from MeShack’s enjoyment of life.

After a few minutes, the purring stopped. I exhaled more blue smoke, knowing he’d be out soon. I scanned the living room and was sure MeShack would complain about the mess.

My wet clothes hung over the arms of our russet brown couch, hiding the tan patches I’d sewn in last month. Damp pages from the books I’d stolen tonight covered the burnt orange coffee table, drying. More pages decorated the olive green carpet near our old flat-screen
TV
. I increased the heat in the air, hoped the pages would dry faster, and heard movement from MeShack’s room.

Yep.
He was definitely coming out, and there was no time to clean.
Fuck it.

I brushed away my bitten nails from the door table, watched them fall onto the carpet, and kicked them under the table. Besides the drying papers, the carpet appeared clean. My dad gave it to us. It was a housewarming gift/I’m-sorry-I-tried-to-kill-you-both-in-a-drug-induced-rage-and-forced-you-both-to-flee-from-your-childhood-home gift. Nevertheless, MeShack had a profound affection for the raggedy rug. If he found a mark on it, fangs and claws would appear.

A creaking sound announced MeShack’s door was opening.

“Like a slow river, baby,” MeShack sang. His voice was a musical instrument, sending smooth liquid tones through the apartment. “So slow, you run through my heart.”

He bent his copper-toned body under the doorway’s frame.

“Like a slow river, baby.” He wrapped a pink towel with yellow flowers around his waist and closed the door. Drops of sweat clung to the rows of muscle on his stomach. “You run through my heart. Like a slow—”

“Would you stop? You’re going to get that song stuck in my head.” I glared at him. His skin glowed like honey poured over layers of caramel. His black pupils blazed within hazel irises. I looked away and asked, “Is Joanne asleep?”

“Is that her name?”

I rolled my eyes and nodded.

“Yeah, she’s asleep.” He walked in a bowlegged stride toward me, bent down to kiss my X brand, and snatched the joint from me. “Cool shirt. The hot Were-cheetah that bought you that shirt must be a comedic genius.”

“Or a pre-med geek who thinks he’s funny,” I muttered. The shirt I’d put on after my shower read,
I wish I was an Ion so I could form an exothermic bond with you
.

“I see you’ve been in my marijuana supply tonight,” he said. “And I’m not a geek. Hot band leaders can’t be geeks.”

“You’re right. Perhaps the best words to describe you would be humble and modest,” I replied. He smiled and flexed his biceps in response.

Humming, he walked into our kitchen, pulled a rubber band out of the “everything” drawer, and tied his black curls into a pony tail that went beyond his shoulders and lay at the center of his back. He’d gotten the hair from his father, a Were-cheetah from somewhere in Africa. Everything else came from his Iranian Were-cheetah mother.

Ten stray Pixies flew from under the door table and swarmed in MeShack’s direction.

“These freaking strays are killing me.
No more, La La. I’m serious.
I convinced Janice to take two home with her.”

“Joanne,” I corrected, watching him pull out sugar cubes and hand one to each Pixie.

“I haven’t seen you smoke in years. What’s up?” He grabbed a slice of raw ostrich meat from the refrigerator, folded it, and then stuck the entire piece in his mouth.

I scrunched my nose up in disgust. “On a scale of one to ten, with ten being horrific, today was a hundred thousand.”

“Why?” He drank milk straight from the carton, threw the empty container into the trash, and burped. “What’s wrong?” He balanced the joint between his full lips and sat down next to me. “Whose neck do I have to break tonight? Please say it’s Zulu.”

“For the thousandth time, I’m not dating him.”

“Whatever, La La.”

MeShack had called me La La since we were nine. Most Shapeshifters know how to control their shifting by six. His mother and my father were drug buddies. She’d been too busy getting high with my dad to teach MeShack control. When I met him, he couldn’t say Lanore. His face had shifted in and out of cheetah form. La La had been the only words he could manage as his long tongue hung out of the side of his furry mouth.

“So?” MeShack’s eyes focused on me. My stomach clenched into a tight ball as I told him what had happened. With each detail, the muscles in his jaw twitched.

“Why did you start crawling across the alley?” He stamped the joint out on his hand. The charred skin surrounding the burn healed and vanished.

“I don’t know why. I keep correcting my actions in my mind over and over.”

“You think this Shorty guy saw the murderer too?” MeShack’s eyes transformed to feline.

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“You said the killer was holding a long knife, right? Could you draw it for me?” He handed me my notebook. I drew it. He looked over my shoulder. “That’s a machete.”

“Do you think he’s out there looking for me?”

“Stop it. If he wanted you dead, he would have already been in this apartment.” MeShack scooted his chair over to me and rubbed the back of my neck with his fingers. I exhaled, enjoying the feel of his fingers caressing my skin.

“I would never let anything happen to you. Nothing.” The veins in his large neck bulged. “Just play it safe and stay out of the rain. Only go out when it’s dry enough to make fire.”

He stopped massaging me, opened his box of marijuana, and took out a gold piece of smoking paper. His eyes returned to normal. “And since we’re discussing your safety, I think you should stop hanging around Zulu.”

I ignored the comment and asked, “How was last night’s gig?”

“I beat up a Were-leopard for booing.” He laid his right arm on my chair. “Javier dropped the band from next month’s line up.”

“You need anger management.”

“I’ll fix my anger problem when you do something about your kleptomania.” He pointed to the wet books I’d stolen earlier. I showed him my middle finger. He leaned forward until his chest touched my arm.

“Is that an invitation?” The flecks of gold in his hazel eyes sparkled.

I tried to calm my heart pounding in my ears. When would his effect on me stop?

“Your invitations expired when you cheated on me last year.” I leaned away from him.
Good job, Lanore.

He continued to stare at me.

“Everybody is saying that Mixbreeds for Equality did the bombing in St. Barbara’s square,” he said. “Hanging around with them will hurt your chances of getting into law school.”

“That’s a bad rumor. I would never be in a group that harmed others.” I got up from my chair and headed to the kitchen. A sharp pain throbbed at my temples. “Stop worrying about me being in
MFE
.”

“You’re all the family I have.”

Our parents would get high, argue, and then get high again. On payday, they’d turn on some cartoons, give us candy bars, and leave for days. As kids, we thought it was an adventure. We ate syrup sandwiches and stayed up all night watching
TV
. A year later, MeShack and his mom moved in. Sometimes her pimp, Joe, stayed for a few weeks.

Everything changed when I was fourteen. MeShack’s mom disappeared. A month later, the habbies found her behind Linderman Blood Factory, drained dry. We figured Joe had killed her and took her blood. Back then, Supernaturals could get $5,000 from the factory for a bucket. The next night, MeShack returned to me, silent, and covered in blood. The habbies discovered Joe later that evening with his head ripped from his body, his heart torn out of his chest and stuffed into his mouth.

“
MFE
is getting a lot of bad press.” I heard MeShack say as I opened the freezer section of the fridge. Cold air hit my face. I took out a large tub of ice cream that I’d stolen from the university’s cafeteria.

“And this Zulu guy is telling people you’re his lady,” he said as the skin wrinkled around his crescent moon brand.

I shook my head and laughed.

“That doesn’t sound like something Zulu would do. You Shifters gossip worse than Witches.” I spooned ice cream into bowls. “If I was involved with him, I would tell you.”

“And what happens if I don’t want you to be with him?” He stood up.

“Absolutely nothing will happen.” I grabbed honey off the counter. “I just listened for an hour as you pounded my classmate, Joanne, whose name you keep forgetting, by the way. I don’t think you’re the authority on what makes a decent guy.”

He marched over to the kitchen’s doorway, wrapping his huge arms around his chest. I exerted heat into the air as a warning for him to calm down. Ice cream dripped from the spoon onto the counter.

“You’re about to lose your temper and shift.” I attempted to focus on the bowls in front of me. The pounding in my temples increased. “And you’re aggravating me.”

Within seconds, MeShack charged in a blur of motion toward me. The towel fell from his body. I resisted the urge to look below his waist and remained standing, not moving one inch. His beast loved a good chase. I had to keep still.

“If I find out you’re dating him, I’ll rip his throat out.” His nostrils flared.

Swirls of fire erupted from my hands.

I targeted my eyes on his. “You mess with Zulu and I’ll burn your balls off. I’m not with him, and even if I was, it’s none of your business.”

MeShack stared at the fireball I bounced in my hand. He opened his mouth in shock, exposing sharp fangs that stuck out of the top and bottom rows of his teeth. Silence hung between us for a few seconds until he said, “I wish I wouldn’t get jealous, but I do. You spend a lot of time with him, and for the past few weeks he’s been leaving messages and sending flowers.”

“Flowers?” I scrunched my face in confusion, searching the kitchen with my eyes. “Where are the flowers?”

“I threw all of them away.”

“Asshole! You had no right. You know how much I love flowers.” I slung the spoon into the sink and walked around him. He reached for my arm, but I moved it away, grabbed my satchel, and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” He stared at the floor.

“I’m freaked out from this murder. Instead of you calming me down, you take the opportunity to belittle
MFE
and act like a jealous ass.”

“La La, I’m sorry.”

“I need fresh air. I’m suffocating in here with you and your ego.” I put my hand on the doorknob.

“MeShack?” Joanne yelled from his bedroom. “Is everything okay?”

“Go back to sleep, Jane,” he replied.

I exhaled, forcing myself not to correct him on her name.

He stepped forward. “Okay. I’m being an asshole, but could you get fresh air from your fire escape? I want you close just in case that guy is hanging around the building.”

Frowning, I thought about it for a few seconds. I could light some candles, make a huge cup of tea, and sip it out there, but Joanne was awake. They’d probably have sex again, and the serenity of my fire escape would just transform into a self-loathing cage of depression. At least downstairs, I would be free from the noise.