Whisper to a Scream (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #6.5)

“That’s alright,” Serene assured me. “We’re not here for him. We’re looking for the scroll, just as he is.”


I refocused on Shya again, but every few moments, my thoughts strayed to Christine. I replayed our brief time together, wishing I had said something after her date’s rude revelation. It was not my place to judge, nor did I, though I was sure she now assumed otherwise.

Had she been trying to distract me from protecting Alexa or to sell herself to me for a price? Or, was she honestly a lonely woman seeking love?

“Is something wrong?” Serene’s question pulled me from my reverie. “You seem preoccupied. Is everything ok with your charge?”

“Yes,” I breathed a sigh of relief that his question had been one I could answer honestly. “Yes, she’s fine. It’s just this woman I met tonight. She seemed so lonely and in need of comfort. I regret that I was not able to help her.”

Serene clapped me on the back. “Maybe you did, and you just don’t know it.”

“Perhaps.” I nodded, following him out of the church. He was wrong. Of that, I was sure.

Still, I felt I owed Christina an apology, otherwise, I would regret forever my silence. Finding her might be a challenge, but it was far from impossible. That wasn’t the real question though.

Would it be a mistake? I refused to ask myself that question; I’d already made up my mind.

Chapter Two

The night drew to a close. After departing from Serene, I set off back the way I’d come. Surely the charity dance had ended by now, yet I found myself heading back there anyway.

With just a thought I could be anywhere on earth, yet I chose to walk. I liked to be among people in all their forms. Walking alongside them, I liked to just observe their interactions, whether they knew my true nature or not.

I passed by the coffee shop and resisted the urge to go inside for another sweet drink. A lone figure in the corner made me do a double take. She stared at the wall, her back to the window. It wasn’t her oddly out of place, white faux fur coat that caught my eye nor was it the dangerously high heels adorning her feet. It was the flowing long black hair and the silver skirt cascading over her legs. Christina.

With a shaky hand, she swirled the contents of her cup and set it back down. She clutched a cell phone in her other hand, quickly tapping out a message, then shoved it into her purse and reached for a napkin.

Christina was not my charge. It wasn’t my place to step in to her life. Yet, here she was, all but dropped in my path, even as she haunted my thoughts.

I shoved the door open and found myself ordering another caramel macchiato, but my gaze was on her. I approached her before sense could strike me.

“Funny seeing you here,” I said, kicking myself mentally for such a stupid line. “May I join you?”

Her dark eyes were rimmed red, pupils huge despite the bright lighting. She fidgeted with a sugar packet, her hands moving constantly, unable to be still. The smile that lit up her face entranced me even as I recognized the signs of someone under the influence of heavy narcotics.

“Yes, of course. I never thought I would see you again. You left pretty quickly.” Her intense gaze pinned me, waiting for my judgment of her occupation or her intoxicated state.

“I’m sorry he did that to you,” I said, meaning it. I had no judgment for anyone. She’d made choices that I had no right to condemn, nor did I want to. “It was very unprofessional and cruel.”

“It was expected.” She shrugged it off, absently stirring her coffee. “Let’s just say, I’m glad the night is over. He was a prick right from the start. Most of the men I escort have a little more class, but you know, shit happens.”

Once she was assured of my opinion, Christina had a hard time holding my gaze. Her eyes darted about from the barista to the door to her phone, anywhere but my eyes.

Instead of pretending to understand, I asked, “What led you into such an industry?”

“The same thing that leads any woman in, money. I wish I had some great, heart wrenching sob story for you. I don’t. I needed cash and being an escort was a good way to get it. I told myself I would only do it for a year, but it’s been four now.” Finally she met my eyes again, albeit briefly. “What can I say? The money is good.”

“I think I understand.” I nodded, feeling the gap between us grow. She was human; I was not. What was I doing here?

“No, you don’t,” she quipped. “But, that’s ok. I wouldn’t expect you to.”

The saccharine coffee hit my tongue, too strong to have again so soon. I frowned down into my cup. Too much of a good thing quickly became unbearable. Disgusting even.

“Did you win anything?” She asked, fumbling her spoon onto the floor with a loud clatter.

It took me a moment to realize she was talking about the auction. “Oh, right. No, I didn’t. I didn’t see anything I liked much there anyway.”