Halflings (3 page)

A fatherly smile formed and almost hid the apprehension. Almost. Worry clung to Uncle Will’s expression. Mace knew he agonized about his boys, even though he wasn’t supposed to be equipped with sticky emotions like worry, happiness, or sorrow.
Hiding your emotions
…
what a human thing to do.

The girl stirred.

All eyes went to her.

Will’s clear, penetrating look shot through Mace like a lightning bolt. “She’s the only clue we have to why we’ve been sent. I’m glad you found her when you did. Those hounds would have shredded her.” Will shuddered, then resumed his authoritative posture. “Since we just arrived from the midplane, I don’t want any of you outside again for a couple days. You all need time to adjust to this realm. That means beginning Monday morning, you’ll be keeping a close watch on her. Should be easy enough; I’ve enrolled you at Waterside High School.”

Moans emanated from Raven and Mace. “Not high school,” Raven groaned.

“Really?” Vine swiped at a dirt smudge on his T-shirt and chewed on a Twizzler he’d snagged from the foyer table. “That’ll be cool.”

“But right now, you’d better get her home.” Will returned
from the window and leaned over the couch. He placed his hands on Nikki’s. “The longer she stays in our presence, the more she’ll be able to tolerate our atmosphere, and we don’t want her waking up to four unnatural creatures hovering over her.”

“No,” Mace agreed. “That’s actually how she passed out in the first place.”

Vine questioned him with a look.

“But those four were stinking hell hounds,” Mace said.

Vine raised a finger. “Actually, she didn’t pass out until you picked her up. Remember? She looked right in your eyes and —”

Raven coughed, stifling a laugh.

Will’s face turned to fury. “She
saw
you in the forest?” His stormy, silver eyes shot icy daggers at Mace.
That’s one emotion Will really shouldn’t be equipped with.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mace watched as the muscles in Vine’s face collapsed, leaving a gaping mouth.

“We didn’t mean for her to see us. We were waiting for her to close her eyes or turn away from the attack.” Mace’s heart pounded. If he’d blown this assignment already, he’d never forgive himself. He chucked a frustrated hand toward Nikki. “She just kept watching, Will.”

“What?”

“She kept watching. The attack.”

Will’s eyes dropped to Nikki and held for a long time.

Mace thought he heard him mumble something about a mark of fearlessness.

Finally, Will spoke. “The world balances on a pinhead, and its fate rests in the hands of teenagers.”

The cloud of uncertainty surrounding Nikki unnerved
him, Mace could tell. Will was a true warrior, and right now the fighter within was being stirred.

“Time is short,” Will said. “I wouldn’t be surprised to see an untapped weapon hidden in her mortal bones. Though she looks like a mere teenage girl, I think her heart beats with the strength of a warrior’s spirit. Queen Esther comes to mind.”

“Huh?” Vine said, his head tilted and his face twisted into a quizzical expression. Actually, Will’s little monologue had sort of lost Mace too. As an eternal being, Will often sensed things the boys couldn’t, but was prone to voicing it in grand terms.

Raven had been around the longest; maybe he understood what Will was mumbling about. But he stared straight ahead, hands locked across his chest as if bored with the whole conversation. On cue, he yawned.

Will knelt beside the girl. Squeezing her hands gently, liquid gold oozed from his palms and covered hers. The pure aroma of Gilead’s Balm — heaven’s Neosporin — filled the room. They each savored it. Nothing was sweeter — except the breath of life.

“Whoa,” Vine said, eyes darting to Mace. “We’re, um, seeing in both realms right now?”

Mace smiled at his young counterpart. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

Nikki awoke in her own bed. She sat straight up and shook off the sleep. Fragments of memory bounced in her head. Running … the fence … the wolves. Voices.

And deep, blue-green eyes. Cerulean blue. The color of the glistening Mediterranean Sea capturing the sun’s reflection. Even as she remembered the horror, her heart calmed, imagining
those pools of safety. And a face. There was a face attached to those eyes. Angular. Strong.

Rich words had rolled off his tongue: “You’re safe now, daughter of man.” Then all had faded, except those round, cerulean eyes. No other shade on her artist’s palette captivated her like cerulean. And no other eyes captivated her at all.

But it had just been a dream, right? She lifted her arm from under the covers and ran a hand through her hair. As she did, she noticed her arm was still in the vintage T-shirt she’d worn yesterday. She wiggled her legs. Yep, jeans. Panic crept in and she suddenly wanted to get out of the clothes she had on.

She jumped from the bed, and the room spun around her. “Whoa,” she muttered as fingers scrambled for the bedpost, holding on with white-knuckled determination until the walls slowly sharpened into focus.

In the dream, she hit the fence. She remembered the slicing pain when the chain links cut into her flesh. Lifting her hands, she examined them, front and back.

Nothing. Not a scratch on her fingers, not a cut on her hands. And no jacket. Nikki’s mind raced. She had her jacket on in the dream and it snagged and tore on a branch. Her gaze darted from the small bistro table sitting in one corner to her laptop in the other corner, but no sign of her light coat. The room whirled again. Nikki sank to the bed and her hair fell across her face. A few calming breaths later, she shoved the loose strands back as the nausea passed.

“It had to be a dream,” she whispered.

No, the hounds were real.

And those beautiful eyes, they
had
to be real. She rolled her pant leg and searched for the mark the monster dog left. Twisting, she squeezed her calf. No wound. No pain. As she
unrolled the material, however, a spot of blood appeared on the denim. She unsnapped and unzipped her jeans and dragged them from her body, turning them inside out. Skin exposed, goose bumps spread along her thighs.

The spot on her jeans was larger on the inside than on the outside, making it clear the dried blood had come from her. Using one hand to tug her hair over her shoulder and out of the way, she propped her foot on the bed and examined her calf again.

Nada. She poked at the spot where the bite mark should have been.
Not even sore.
She lifted the jeans for closer inspection. Just above the dried blood, a tiny hole. Frantically, she brought the material to her face and searched. A black hair was partially buried in the blood. Clasping the thing between her finger and thumbnail, she tugged it from its cocoon, finding it half an inch in length and … wiry. She placed it on her night-stand and repeatedly wiped her hand against the bed, removing the dead sensation the hair created.

Standing on shaky legs, she peeked from her bedroom window. A cloudless Missouri sky hovered above the world,
her
world, and the home she’d known since birth. She took in the room that had grown with her, first filled with baby dolls and teddy bears, then Barbie and the preferred G.I. Joes; now replaced with karate trophies and artwork. All of her favorites splashed across her walls, with
Starry Night
’s swirls shimmering down on her. And somewhere in the deepest corner of her closet her much-loved teddy rested in a box. Yes, this was her world. Safe. Normal. Without wolf-dogs.

In the kitchen, her mother was probably baking as she did every Saturday morning, while her dad puttered around in the garage playing with ancient swords and daggers. As antique
weapons dealers, her parents’ passion for history had always fascinated Nikki, and likely spawned her interest in art. They’d taught her beauty was often hidden in ordinary items, but with the right amount of care, patience, and a dose of determination, what most see as junk could become a treasure.

She drew a breath and started to turn from the window, but something flashed in the fringe of woods alongside her house.

Cold chills ran up and down her spine as she squinted into the darkened edge of trees. Off to the right, movement. She tried to swallow against the desert growing in her throat, but gulped down only hot, sticky air. Her hand trembled, squeezing the curtain with such force she felt each pulse of blood pumping through her closed fingers.

Something was lurking in the shadows. And it was waiting for her.

“So, can you give me a reason why you’re so distracted today?” Krissy asked, batting thick lashes at her while sinking into the coffee shop seat.

Nikki pulled the latte to her lips and took a long, lingering drink. Explain?
I wouldn’t know where to begin.

Krissy used the end of her green straw to toy with the chocolate-striped whipped cream on the top of her iced drink. “Look, I know you hate shopping. But you promised to at least have a good attitude.”

Nikki sighed deeply.
What kind of a friend am I?
“I’m sorry Krissy. It’s not the shopping. I’m excited about it, really.”

“As is evidenced by your wide eyes and bobbing head. You know I live for these chances to see you in real clothes. Not your customary boyfriend-fit jeans and vintage T-shirts. I
mean, they’re cute every once in a while, but would it kill you to wear a skirt?” Krissy slurped some of her drink, but stopped and wiped her mouth when two guys passed by their table. A toothy smile and a flirtatious head toss, and the guys were sitting across the coffee shop with eyes glued.

Nikki cast a glance behind her to the boys. “You’re unbelievable.”

“It’s just a game. I happen to be a good player.” Krissy beamed and motioned with her free hand, careful the boys wouldn’t see. “Look, look, look! They’re totally coming over here.”

Nikki panicked and grabbed Krissy’s arm in a death grip. “No.”

“Let’s invite them to sit down.”

“Krissy, please.” She squeezed tighter. “Look, if you’ll get rid of them, I’ll tell you what’s going on.”

Blue eyes narrowed, the telltale signal she was unable to resist the intrigue. “You’ll tell me why you’re so jacked up today?”

Nikki felt the boys bearing down on her. “Yes, I promise. I’ll tell you everything.” Her cheeks felt like they were burning.

Krissy sighed and shifted into catch and release mode. “Fine.”

When the two teen boys stopped at the table, Nikki tried to offer a tentative smile, but figured it looked more like constipation.

They greeted, and Nikki mumbled a greeting in return. Then Krissy kicked into full gear. “So, I noticed you guys go by and I was thinking, you two look just like a couple of my little brother’s friends. His name is Jeff and he goes to Waterside Middle School.”

The boy’s faces crumbled.

Oh, dear Lord, just kill them now and save them from this embarrassment.

But Krissy soldiered on. “I don’t know all his friends, but I remember meeting some of them at Chunky Monkey Ice Cream Shop when we had his birthday party.”

Nikki sank deeper into the chair sure the boys’ egos weren’t likely to recover in this millennium.

Within moments — though it felt like several lifetimes — they disappeared.

“Krissy! That was mean,” Nikki scolded and threw a glance over her shoulder.

But the petite blonde gave her a dead stare. “You’ve got info. And I don’t want to be distracted by some cute guy hanging around while I hear it.”

Nikki could relate. All morning her thoughts had strayed to the ocean blue eyes and the velvet voice that had soothed and protected her in the dream. Yes, she’d determined it had to be a dream. Otherwise, she had to admit the very distinct possibility she was going nuts.

Krissy listened intently as Nikki filled her in. “And that’s it. I woke up in my clothes in my own bed.”

“Wow.”

Nikki dropped her hands flat on the table and blinked at her friend. “
Wow?
That’s it?” Krissy had an opinion on absolutely everything.

She waved a hand in the air. “Give me a minute, I’m thinking.” Her lips puckered slightly and her straw plunged repeatedly into the depths of her iced mocha. “You’re being chased. That means something in dreams, but I can’t remember what. Then a
fence.” She snapped her fingers. “What could a fence mean? And there were wolves? That means something too, but …”