Skin Deep (2 page)

"Just running by to pick up the bow. Is it ready?"

"Oh, sure." Tara led me into the silent shop, where the odor of metal permeated the air and the dust motes danced in the
dull afternoon light.

"Where's Gracie?" I asked.

"Mum was called back to Court. Something's going on and they needed her right away." Tara frowned for a moment then disappeared behind the counter. Something must be up in the Fae courts if Tara was worried. I hoped her mother was going to be okay. They both lived on the edges of the Courts rule, probably breaking a few laws with their weapons manufacturing, never mind their specific, made-to-order ammunitions.

Tara popped back up seconds later with an object wrapped in black felt. She laid the package on the counter and flipped the edges open to reveal my crossbow. I'd missed it. Small enough to carry around in my backpack, shiny black steel; it was as lethal as it looked.

"I've made a few special modifications for you." Tara reached into a drawer beneath the counter and handed me a small box. Inside sat a row of tiny vials.

Tara picked out a single tiny bottle, popped the chamber open on the bow and slid it into the slot. Then she readied the weapon. "This vial is packed tight with microscopic needles. Each needle is filled with a lethal poison. You have to take careful aim because the glass splits on impact and the needles enter the body in a fine spray. It's so fine it's undetectable. And untraceable." Tara smirked, very proud of her efforts.

"Thanks, this is just amazing. How do you always know what’s perfect for me?" I shook my head as I asked the question, and as expected, she shrugged.

Minutes later, bow tucked discreetly in my backpack, I headed home.

***

I entered my apartment the usual way, taking the steel stairs of the rattling old fire escape, two risers at a time. The fire escape’s rusted bolting threatened to dislodge in too many places. At times it swayed, rebelling against my weight. Light on my feet, I was in no danger of plunging seven stories to the broken sidewalk. I wouldn't be so bold as to assume the nine-lives theory applied to Walkers. And I wasn't itching to put it to the test, either.

I filed away another mental note to get the rusted bolts replaced. My guests used the other entrance to my home—an ancient cage-like contraption, which only worked because my Walker friend Anjelo worked wonders with mechanical whatnots. His smarts were busy impressing the teachers at Crawdon. The last I'd heard he was up for a scholarship or something. I snorted. Guess he'd better be super careful not to let it slip that he wasn't even Human. It would blast his scholarship to smithereens.

Only once had I used that abomination of an elevator. Despite my confidence in Anjelo's nimble fingers and equally agile brain, I became a total wuss when confronted by The Cage itself. Images of the rickety box plummeting to the basement had me fleeing for my trusted fire escape. Somehow, the fire-escape’s tenuous hold on the outside wall didn't bother me, nor did any other equally obvious dangers my preferred entrance posed.

Grandma Ivy's apartment building sat a few blocks away from the Rehab Center in a part of the city that avoided being seen or heard. It straddled the last street of the residential blocks and the first streets of the mostly abandoned industrial quarter. The location was ideal—skirting the city and yet close enough for easy access to uptown, downtown and the abandoned sector.

Wind buffeted my body and tugged at my clothes with grim ferocity as I reached the topmost landing of the fire escape. A quick jimmy opened the window, which yawned into the living room. The top floor of the old building, loft-like in size and stature, provided the space and freedom I adored.

It was kind on Grandma's bank balance too, though I didn't ask too many questions about that. Before I left home, accounts and money were the last things on my mind. My father and brother dealt with mundane things like bills. My father's voice simmered in my ear now. Reminders of choices and decisions and living with the bed I made.

Independence had many prices. Not that I complained. I preferred my current bed, thanks. Although I had a part-time job, my work at the center paid well enough for my needs. What I earned, I happily spread evenly over: clothing, my bow and the ammunition for my jobs. I was a Wraith-hunter, not a mercenary, and when one of my marks ate it, no money ever changed hands. The release of their victims was sufficient payment for me. Grandma, in her intermittent visits, took care of groceries and rent payments.

One day soon she'd have to tell me where in Ailuros's name it was she disappeared to so often. She never stayed gone for very long, maybe a couple weeks at a time, and she always came back satisfied and happy if a little drained. She never poked her nose into my business, but made sure I attended college and kept my grades up. She knew my studies were important to me because she knew I loved my job at the centre.

But despite her support, I never worked up the nerve to tell her about my Wraith-hunting. I was terrified she'd demand I stop because of the danger I put myself in. I'd been hunting for so long that danger no longer bothered me, but I knew my family would kick up a fuss about it. Good thing they never knew Wraith-hunting had been all about on-the-job-training and good few near-death experiences before I got the hang of it.

Still, sometimes I envied the Human kids at the local college. Such simple, painless lives. I made headway with many of my patients, but I could never take away the reasons they sought refuge in drugs. I saw so much agony and suffering that sometimes, just sometimes, I longed for release. And the power of the Hunt was such a release. A way to make a solid, tangible difference instead of talk, talk, talk.

But lately, something was really wrong. The frequency of Wraith possessions had increased. In the last month, I'd eliminated twice as many as the previous three months combined. Something made them bolder. Stronger. More violent. And the Veil between the Earth-World and the Wraith-world had seemed strange too. Flimsy, tattered in places. And there was no-one I could go to about it
.

With one leg inside the loft, I paused astride the sill, cocked my Panther ears, and flared my nostrils. I listened. Scented the room for intruders. Somewhere, a trucker gunned his engine. It spluttered and spat before roaring into life.

All was safe and I swung the other leg into the room and forced the protesting window shut. Having lost its protection against the elements decades ago, the wooden frame stuck, now swollen from the rain. Still, I preferred it that way—harder for intruders to get in and out fast.

I tugged the band from my loosened braid and ran my fingers through the thick mess, rubbing the sore spots on my scalp. When I was younger, I found it hard to understand why my hair differed from the rest of my singularly blond family. Greer's hair was white-blond to pure white, and Iain's was a warmer shade of my sisters pale. Guess my mother bequeathed only one child with her lustrous locks. For a long time, it had been just one more thing setting me apart from my family. Too late to avoid the chip from settling securely on my shoulder.

Cat, our cat, entwined herself between my feet, almost tripping me up. She purred her welcome, then stalked off to find a dust bunny to play with. Well, at least she'd cared enough to say hi. Grandma Ivy's precious pet was a bit of a diva, but she was the only company I had. A glance at Grandma's bedroom door confirmed it was ajar. A sure sign Grams was not home. I hadn't expected her this week, anyway. But it was okay with me. For now, with my head still pounding, I desperately needed a bed.

***

Later that afternoon, after a couple of hours of fitful dozing that miraculously relieved my headache, I sat staring off into space. My fingers filled more of the tiny cartridges with serum, while my mind remained on Todd and the Wraith I had to eliminate to save the boy. It never hurt to have extra ammo. And it never hurt to be prepared for the kill.

I kept myself busy.

Busy cursing myself.

Stupid.

At last, I had half a dozen extra vials filled, ready to be loaded into my bow’s special housing. I packed and prepared to leave. Recon topped my to-do list. Since I'd had no knowledge of it until today, I had a bit of work to do. Work that needed to be done in spite of the danger it always posed to my identity. I had to risk it though.

As the only Wraith-Hunter around I owed it to Todd and to his un-dead father to do my job.

***

I stood in the shadows of a huge elm on the corner of a nondescript street in a very suburban part of town. In the daylight, I would expect to see little girls skipping and little boys riding around on bright red trikes. But the night hid the niceness, making everything look the same, gray and dark and haunted. I watched from the time Todd came home until the Wraith returned as well.

Tonight was for observation. Wraiths were strongest at night. Weakest at dusk and dawn, not to say they became helpless during the day. I just preferred to fight them when they were less strong. Why make things harder for myself?

I relaxed and borrowed night sight from my feline self.

A sharper, more focused vision.

I'd poached my Panther's ears long before I arrived. And now I listened to the sounds the two occupants of the house made as they prepared for dinner. One, young, innocent and troubled. The other, ancient, evil and filled with glee.

It still amazed me how blind I’d been to the torment of Todd. I stared now at the front porch virtually glowing with peachy tendrils. I'd seen enough. They were settling down for the night. Maybe the Wraith felt satisfied with his efforts of being a good father for the evening.

As I turned to leave, a sound within the house caught my feline ear. Something crashed. Could the Wraith have decided the charade had stretched on long enough? I crossed the road, ducking behind a bush of rhododendrons, their heavy scent no longer sweet. I crawled to the nearest window, staying low. Inside, an angry, raised voice filtered through the curtained window. I peered through a slit in the drapes, where the two halves had failed to meet.

Mayhem greeted me. A side table lay overturned, an old lamp shattered, the solid base crushed to dust. An armchair sat on its side. Then I saw the Wraith and his captive. It held Todd by the throat, suspended in midair by only the power of the un-dead. Todd's eyes bulged—pain, fear and shock warring. At his temples, blood vessels enlarged slowly as he grappled with the hand at his throat. He kicked as he struggled desperately for air.

Todd’s arms flopped limply as he began to lose consciousness. It was now or never. I sprinted around the house, readying my bow. Made a mental check on the two vials already in the chamber as I ran. At the back door, I gripped the handle and paused when it opened smoothly. The Wraith feared no one and his arrogance allowed me to slip in for the kill.

I followed the sound down the hall to the front room where Todd was now a frightening shade of blue. He no longer gasped for breath, no longer kicked helplessly. Almost no time left.

The Wraith, his back to me, still had no knowledge of my presence. In their true form, Wraiths have no substance, but yet possess strong Magyk. When contained within the body of a mortal Human, they have limited access to their powers, although they still remained powerful enough. I preferred my kills at a distance, usually eliminated them in sniper mode. I'd tried hand to hand combat a long time ago but the creatures were unpredictable and sometimes too strong. But this Wraith didn't afford me the luxury of distance.

And though the Wraith lacked super hearing power, he did possess an acceptable level of hearing. When I stepped into the room, he turned. His lack of attention to Todd changed nothing of the boy's circumstance. Todd remained midair, dying a slow and painful death.

Had I been wrong about the limitations of their power when in Human bodies? Had something changed? They'd increased in numbers, and increased in strength. Plus the Veil was more fragile than ever. What was going on?

The Wraith speared me with
a venomous glare. I was so focused on the foul creature that I barely heard the sound of Todd's body as it landed on the ground in a crumpled heap.

In that brief moment, my arrogance betrayed me. He sneered, his eyes a smoky black. I lifted my bow and aimed at the creature's chest. It mattered where I hit him, because it was the mortal shell which had to be killed a second time. I'd thought I had enough time…

He covered the distance between us with lightning speed and hit me—a full body slam. I went down, still holding the bow across my chest, stunned and confused by this new and unusual show of speed. My weapon, about a foot in length, could double as a club if needed. Unfortunately, the Wraith’s body crushed it against mine.

His foul breath enveloped me; coral wisps encircled my head. His thrall – with which he would’ve ensnared his human host before he'd taken possession – failed to work on me, but I gave him points for trying. All I wanted was him off me. Desperation and hysteria fueled my strength, and I shoved hard. I managed to move him enough to tilt the head of my arrow toward his head.

He smiled through crooked, yellow teeth. The smell of death rolled off his body in waves, and my stomach churned bitter bile. Most people couldn't smell these vile creatures. My ability to sniff them out helped a great deal. Not so much when I was stuck nose to nose with one. I struggled in his putrid embrace, and he laughed again. He was so sure of himself. And while I stared into the black, swirling depths of his eyes, I fiddled for the trigger on the bow, my finger bent awkwardly against the soft flesh of his chest.