In normal times—which these certainly were not—when I’d seen a group of people, there would have been an appearance of what I’d describe as a generic average. Maybe once I started to pick these mortals from the group, one by one, and delved deeper, I’d see that this person leaned more toward evil or that one leaned more toward good. The worst of them hid their flaws, their anger and corruptness, in the dark corners of life, the times when most aren’t looking.
But because most humans had the desire to fit within the norm of their culture, general civility hid the darkest traits. In better times, when people walked down the street on a sunny day, a layer of icing hid the sometimes moldy cake beneath, because most human beings had a natural compulsion to fall in line with what was considered the norm of their culture. It went all the way back to our hunter-gatherer years, when it was a necessity to be able to work as a team and being an outcast meant certain death.
But something had been unraveling, shifting in the psyche, or maybe in the very fabric that wove us all together. In the weeks since I’d met Malokin in that hotel things had changed. The threads of evil, that had been hidden from view and denied, were now being flown with banners. The few threads that had once been the shadows in the tapestry of who we were had become the dominant color of the piece.
The most worrying aspect was I wasn’t clear on what was causing it. I wasn’t entirely sure if this was Malokin’s doing or if he was a byproduct and if it was something that could be undone. Months ago, I’d seen hints of the chaos that was beginning to unfold now, but like so many before me I had brushed off a gut instinct as paranoia.
That foresight of potential upheaval, the one my gut had foreseen and been yelling at me to pay attention to, was blooming full force. People who had inclinations towards a dark side seemed to be on a downward slide and gaining speed. Assaults and burglaries had doubled in the last month and that wasn’t the worst. Murders had tripled. Rapes had gotten so bad that women were starting to fear walking the streets alone. It wasn’t only here in coastal South Carolina, either, or just the United States.
Crime was on the rise everywhere, and if you paid attention to the trends, like I did, you knew it was getting worse every day. The decay of the moral fiber of the human race had hit a tipping point and the downward slant was steepening.
It wasn’t all bad. There were some people who were going in the opposite direction. The good within them had blossomed. Strange how sometimes it took the worst of times to bring out the best in some. Unlikely heroes were rising all over the place, lending aid to the weak and easy prey. It gave me and everyone else around us—those who were still hanging on to who they were—hope, and we desperately needed that. Especially now, when everywhere I looked lately, things seemed to be unraveling.
Even as Smoke and I sat by the ocean, something that would have been uneventful a couple of weeks ago before the hotel and the rioting that went with it, there was a threat. A group of five boys, all in their teens, approached from a little way down the beach. They were close enough though that I could see the way they were appraising me. They were looking for trouble and considering me for some sport.
Was that what things were coming to? Would I have to fight children to survive? The idea of snuffing out a life before it even reached manhood sickened me.
It didn’t matter that every one of them had karma that was as dark and dingy as a used ashtray. Only the very best of humans, people who would’ve been near blindingly bright before, weren’t dark at this point. A month ago, they might’ve been normal. Perhaps a month from now, if we could figure out what was wrong, they would be light again. They wouldn’t have that chance if I killed them. And even if it were I who dealt the killing blow, in essence they’d be another victim of Malokin’s. The walking and talking personification of anger on Earth would have another notch on his belt and I’d again be doing his dirty work.
Smoke, more companion than cat and one of the best judges of personality I’d ever met, hissed as they got close. The black cat who had been born grey had been doomed to a position as an underachiever by factors of birth. Sort of like a ballerina with stumpy legs, some things just couldn’t be overcome.
“Keep walking,” I said, doing a little hissing of my own as they came within human hearing range, which was considerably shorter than my own.
The group of five eyed me, debating on if I had the claws to match the warning. Their step slowed in unison as they came closer. Then something caught their gaze behind me. Their steps quickened and they kept moving.
I leaned my weight back on my hands and then my elbows, letting my head fall back and my dark ponytail graze the sand so I could get him in my view. The tension, which had surged a moment before in anticipation of a fight, turned into an altogether different type of awareness. As I watched him come closer, there was a hint of something that I wasn’t quite ready to feel stirring in me.
“You know, I had that handled.” My hair blew as the wind kicked up and I enjoyed the ocean breeze on my skin.
“I’m sure.” Fate shoved his hands in his jeans’ pockets as he walked forward, looking completely relaxed even as he scanned the beach for any other possible threats.
“If you have any doubts, I can go chase them down and offer a demonstration.” I smiled as I said it, having no desire to do any such thing. It was a comment that simply continued on the larger unspoken discussion we’d been having. I was capable of protecting myself.
“But then you’d miss dinner,” he replied, going along with the ruse he’d been carrying out—that he felt completely comfortable letting me go off and handle things alone.
Fate and I had a strange way of communicating, or lack of it. I wasn’t sure how it had started or when, but we rarely discussed the important matters. We’d talk circles around them. Maybe we’d fallen into the habit back when I’d killed Suit, and we both decided to let the why of the situation drop.
It might have gone back even farther, to the very first time I met him. I still didn’t understand why, when he hadn’t wanted me there, he’d agreed to stay with me all those long days I’d been teetering on the edge, after my human form had died.
At this point, the habit of not actually saying what we meant was becoming pretty ingrained, for better or worse. We didn’t discuss any of the real issues between us. If it hit too close to the raw emotions that made us tick, they weren’t spoken of or asked about.
“If you chased after them, you might have to do that weird glow thing with your eyes. We wouldn’t want that to happen,” Fate said.
He dropped down to sit on his haunches by my side, and Smoke immediately went in for the petting. His faded denim looked nearly bare in places as Smoke rubbed her cheek against his knee, claiming him. His hands rubbed over her as she purred on full blast, eating up the attention. Hooker.
It was ridiculous that I was jealous of a cat but I’d felt those hands on me. They were masculine perfection and always knew just the right way to touch. A small thrill shot through my system at the memory of exactly that. It wasn’t often that I saw him and didn’t think of those times or breathe deeply when I was next to him, loving the masculine scent that reminded me of sandalwood and cedar.
“We don’t need to have dinner together every night.” The words came out and I immediately regretted them, as I often did, not understanding fully why I felt compelled to pull away when what I wanted was the exact opposite. I stared off at the horizon, watching the waves break, and tried to keep my demeanor relaxed while I awaited his response, like a sword held poised above my head.