Her Blood Sings: Episode 01 (9 page)

Now that the pickup truck had missed Evie, he
couldn't care less what it hit. Still, he felt her shiver as the
truck hit the wall a couple of blocks down the street. Chris felt
Evie's knees give out under her. He held her close, supporting her.
Chris wrapped his coat around her, pulling her back flush against
his chest. The fabric of her uniform felt too thin. It was fucking
useless to keep her warm.

For a few precious seconds there was nothing
but the feel of her. Her smell around him, like warm caramel
bathing his skin, and her breathing tickling his arms.

He felt her struggle free. It was feeble, but
she wanted to be free of him. Chris dropped his arms. He felt oddly
bereft without her warmth. He told himself he didn't care about
her. A small voice told him that he shouldn't care. He took a step
back and watched her shiver, her eyes trailing to the truck. It had
hit a storefront.

"I should go there," she whispered.

"Why?" Chris said. He sounded angrier than he
had the right to be.

She turned to him, blinking in surprise. "I
have to make sure the driver is OK."

"Why do you care?"

"Because he could be hurt," she said,
frowning. "It wouldn't be right to leave him."

Chris shoved his hands in his hair, his anger
rising. "He almost killed you."

"He didn't mean to." She shivered and wrapped
her arms around herself, her teeth chattering. "H-H-He...
p-p-probably..."

"For fuck sakes," Chris muttered. He removed
his heavy, useless coat and draped it around her shoulders. He
rubbed some warmth into her arms. "Why did you leave the café
without your coat?"

Evie started speaking, but her words trailed
into nothing. She became more alert and her head snapped around,
looking for something. Her heartbeat picked up in her chest. She
was afraid of something - or someone. Chris was this close to try
his luck and try to glamour her again. He had to know who was
scaring her. He had no idea why he needed to know it, but he did.
He heard people leaving the café, taking in the accident.

Chris growled in frustration. He had to
leave. He couldn't be caught here. How could he possibly explain
what had just happened?

Evie's friend, Lucy, came out of the café,
carrying a heavy, worn-looking coat. She saw Chris standing next to
Evie and frowned, her eyes drifting to the bay window seat Chris
had been perched on only a minute before. Chris could see the
wheels turning in her head, a million questions coming to the
surface. He cursed under his breath. This was exactly why he had to
leave.

He crossed the street to Lucy and picked up
the coat from her hands. She was an easy connection.

"I came out after your friend, understand?"
Chris asked. "Whatever you think you saw, you didn't. You're
mistaken."

She nodded, a dazed look on her face.

"I pulled her away at the last possible
second but I was just a patron. You don't know who I am. OK?" Chris
asked.

She blinked up at him.

"Answer me, Lucy."

"Yes," she said.

"Good," Chris said, sighing in relief. "Now,
be a good girl and call 911."

She nodded, her hand already drifting to a
pocket in her apron.

He turned around and marched back to Evie.
She had slumped against a parked car, her eyes on him. She was
swimming in his coat, the sleeves longer than her arms. At least
she looked warmer. She saw the coat in his hands and her lips
tugged down in disappointment. Chris handed her the coat and
watched as she shrugged out of his coat and handed it to him. He
put his coat on and paused. It smelled like her. He might never
take it off again.

He heard the sirens of ambulances and police
cars in the distance.

"I have to go," he said.

"What?" she asked, snapping away from her
spot. "But the police-"

"I can't talk to the police." Chris could see
a million questions on her face. He snapped at that. "Don't make me
regret saving you, Evie."

She staggered back a step, her lips parting
as she gasped.

Chris felt bad about that, but he couldn't
get involved.

"A patron, someone you'd never seen before,
pulled you out and then walked away," he said. "It's the truth.
Nothing I can say will change that."

She nodded, not meeting his eyes.

Chris stood there for a moment, feeling
conflicted. Part of him wished he could take back what he said, but
another part knew he was doing the right thing. He had to think of
his clan. People started rushing to Evie, regulars at the café and
coworkers. No one spared him a glance. Chris sighed in frustration
and turned to walk away. Each step was a struggle. People were
clustering around Evie now. They were asking her if she was OK, if
she needed a doctor.

"Chris," Evie called.

He turned around. They were on opposite sides
of the street now. But at that moment, with their eyes locked
across the space like that, he felt like he was right next to
Evie.

"Thank you," she said, her voice a whisper
lost in the chaos around her.

He nodded at her, his lips tugging in a
smile.

Chris forced himself to keep moving down the
street, walking without looking back. He had to put as much
distance between himself and the crash as possible.

But he knew he would be back for Evie.
Soon.

The myths were gathered at Moonlight, in the
back, secret rooms good ol' earthlings couldn't get to. The place
was owned and run by elves. It was a safe, neutral ground. Elves
had washed their hands clean of the whole vampire affairs and petty
squabbles.

Besides the elves Switzerland-like attitude,
Moonlight had an extra feature that made it attractive to all
myths: the secret back rooms. Since Moonlight was a nightclub that
earthlings also visited, the myths did most of their myth-like
things in these secret dens. That was where the succubi and the
incubi stayed, where they could have the bizarre, magical drinks
the elves loved so much. It was where they could take their
glamoured "blood donors" or play card games with potions and
amulets. Once a month these rooms were used for something called
The Random Market, a gathering of shady mythological characters
that a group of renegade witches ran for their own shady purposes.
It was said that one could find anything at the Random Market...
all they had to do was ask.

This particular December evening, the Random
Market was buzzing with activity. Myths from all parts of the world
had flocked to Thunder Bay and they all wanted something.

Tamara was having tea with her aunt and
uncle. Her eyes slid from time to time to the men and women walking
around, keeping an eye on the events and making sure everybody
played fair. They all wore coats in shades of white and golden,
pins of eastern dragons. These renegade witches were called,
fittingly, White Coats.

Aunt Sandra followed Tamara's stare. She let
out a disgusted
tsk
sound. "Queen Vanessa really should look
into these White Coats."

"You think they're dangerous?" Tamara
asked.

"They have their fingers in every pie of the
Witching Realm, which makes them untouchable." Aunt Sandra shook
her head. "I don't like it."

"For a small group to come out of Brazil and
start doing business with everyone like that..." Uncle Baltus let
his disapproval hang in the air, like his words. He turned to
Tamara and gave her a bright smile. "How about a shot of something
stronger for this cold evening?" He turned to Aunt Sandra and
wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Maybe some Strawberry Passion for my
little strawberry?"

Aunt Sandra swatted Uncle Baltus's arms
playfully.

"Maybe later, sweetie." Aunt Sandra winked at
her husband. "But I think Tamara is old enough to have Honeysuckle,
don't you think?"

Uncle Baltus leaned back. "Are you sure?"

Tamara gasped. Honeysuckle was one of the
drinks witches weren't supposed to have. She'd be high as a kite
for hours, until her faster-than-normal metabolism burned it.

Aunt Sandra nodded.

Uncle Baltus picked up her hand and started
doing a disgustingly accurate Gomez Addams impressions. "Oh, Tish,
I love it when you-"

"Oh my Gods!" Tamara rolled her eyes.
"Please, stop."

They both laughed at Tamara.

"Three Honeysuckles coming right up!"

Uncle Baltus left Tamara and Aunt Sandra
alone.

Tamara followed her uncle with her eyes,
suddenly uneasy to be left alone with her aunt. Tamara would be
lying if she said Aunt Sandra's reaction to her friendship to Lucy
and Evie hadn't stung. It wasn't just her suspicion; it was also
the fact that she couldn't see all the wonderful things Tamara saw
in her two friends.

"I'm sorry,” Aunt Sandra said.

Tamara's attention snapped back to her
aunt.

"Sometimes I still see that little girl who
offered candy to every stranger that passed her by instead of the
young woman you really are." Aunt Sandra leaned closer and patted
Tamara's hand. "If you trust your earthling friends, I'm sure they
are worthy of it."

Tamara relaxed, her lips curling into a
smile. "Thank you."

"The Murray girl looks nice enough." Aunt
Sandra sighed. "If a little silly, but-"

Tamara nodded. She loved Lucy, but she
was
silly.

Aunt Sandra looked towards the cart the elves
used as a mobile bar. She laughed.

Tamara followed her stare. Uncle Baltus was
trying to balance three glass bottles with amber, swirly liquid
inside in his hands and nearly dropping everything.

"Please, Tamara, help him... before he pulls
a muscle or something."

"Sure." Tamara and her aunt exchanged a last
smile before the girl jogged to her uncle. "Need any help?"

Uncle Baltus, who Tamara had seen fight three
goblins during training, looked completely mystified by the small
bottles.

"Are the bottles giving you a hard time?"

"They're super cold." Uncle Baltus
straightened his back, trying to look dignified. "You know how I
feel about cold things."

Tamara took one of the bottles from her
uncle's hand. She caught sight of a tank being pushed by five burly
men in white coats. A mermaid was inside. Her skin had that blue
glow of the merfolk while her tail and hair were an odd color,
between pink and violet.

She swam in her tank, happy to be seen.

Tamara opened her mouth to say something when
she heard Uncle Baltus hissing low next to her.

"What the fuck?"

Her head snapped. Uncle Baltus never
cursed.

She spotted the earthling just as easily as
her uncle. Witches felt the energy around them; each thing had its
own pattern. In a sea of different energy signatures, an
earthling’s low hum was easy to spot. He was a few feet away from
Aunt Sandra, who was staring at the tank and waving at the mermaid,
a smile on her lips.

The earthling, a young man, removed his long
coat. He was wearing a vest covered in explosives. Something that
looked like a remote control was in his hand.

Tamara dropped her bottle of Honeysuckle and
started running towards Aunt Sandra.

"DIE SUPERNATURAL SCUM!" The young man
screamed.

He pressed a button and the world
exploded.

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Copyright© 2014 by Vivian Wolkoff

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