Legacy of a Dreamer (8 page)

“Yes. We are fast, efficient, and able to kill those that hunt their prey in darkness,” Nick said.
 

For some reason, Chantal couldn’t help noticing Nick was deep in thought. She used his distraction to really look at him. Though it caused her to blush once again, she concluded he seemed too magnificent to be so tortured. His unnatural skin tone did not deter her from noticing his toned chest. She had never seen such a gorgeous man up close and personal. This was all new to her; her own place, a neighbor who had become a best friend and a hot guy whose purpose was to protect her from some
thing
called the Evil One.
 

“And do you always fight half-naked?” she said. She covered her mouth when she realized she said what she was thinking out loud. At her comment, Nick seemed to come back to reality, looking at himself as if just realizing he didn’t have a shirt on. He glanced up, apologetically at Chantal before reaching behind him. His hands grasped something unseen from around his neck. He pulled what looked like a simple cloud of smoke over his head, and then it solidified into a black T-shirt.
 

“Is that better?” he asked.

“I don’t know if better is the right word, but way less distracting,” she muttered under her breath. The atmosphere in the room became less charged and she relaxed, ready for him to answer more questions. “What were those things you fought?”

“They are creatures who live in the shadows, able to do the will of the Fallen,” Nick said, crossing his arms over his chest.
 

“And why were they after me?”

A sudden knock on her door kept him from answering.

“Who could possibly be visiting you at this hour?” Nick said, anger coloring his tone. Chantal shrugged, heading toward the door. Before opening it, she paused, and said, “Just make yourself scarce.” If it was Monica, she didn’t want to answer questions about a strange man in her apartment, never mind the fact that he looked anything close to normal.

“Sure,” he said, and pulled back into the shadows as she looked through the peephole before opening the door.

“What the hell are you doing here? I won’t hesitate dialing 911!” she said through the door, as her late-night visitor seemed startled by her reaction.

“What are you doing here?” Chantal repeated as she glared at the dark-haired man with slight bruising on his left jaw line standing in the hallway of her apartment building. The diner must have just closed, meaning it had to be a little after two in the morning—way too late for any kind of decent visitation. “Do you know what time it is? I swear, I will call the cops!”

   
“I know, but I had to see you, to try and explain. You didn’t return my call,” he said through the still closed door.
 

Tony DeLuca, the creepy manager from the diner that she clocked had the audacity to show up at this hour to explain himself. She reached over and grabbed the phone in case she had to make good on her threat
 

“Are you crazy? You could’ve called again. You don’t show up at my apartment at this time of night or ever for that matter,” Chantal warned him.
 

He glanced around, seemingly noticing for the first time the late hour. His hands fiddled in front of him as if he suddenly didn’t know what or why he was there.

“Didn’t you get my message? Are you going to let me in to apologize?” Tony asked, his face tinted a slight pink in embarrassment. His glossy face and soaked shirt made Chantal grimace.
 

“Oh, I got it all right, and I’m not buying. And I’m definitely not opening the door. ” Chantal words were unwelcoming, her grip firm on the phone as she continued watching him through the peephole. She didn’t want him coming in, not after what he’d done.

“I’m sorry, Miss Breelan. I didn’t mean any offense—” He took a step closer to the door reaching for the doorknob as if he could open it to let himself in and she grabbed it instinctively on her side.

“Grabbing my ass isn’t in your definition of offensive?” This day just kept getting better by the minute and she was tired. Tired and ticked off, as Tony quickly realized. He seemed to balk for a moment, unable to mutter another asinine excuse. She couldn’t believe it when he twisted the knob to open the door, a look of desperation tinting his features. Suddenly, Nick unlocked the deadbolt, chain and moved her out of the way, glaring at the man through the now open door way.

Chantal’s immediate reaction made her want to shove Nick back into the apartment, to hide him from the real world. However, when she paused to gape at him standing sentinel in her doorway, his appearance wasn’t close to that drab palette. His skin tones were a rich golden color, almost resembling that of a California surfer. Even his hair had lightened to a dirty blond color, standing up into a messy Mohawk. He looked every bit the menacing boyfriend, and it seemed he planned to play up that image.

“And who the hell is this, might I ask?” Tony asked, having the nerve to sound jealous at Nick’s appearance.

“Um . . .” Chantal didn’t know how to answer that question. She glanced uneasily between Nick and Tony. Both of them stood still, rigid spines and puffed up chests. The testosterone level kicked up a couple notches as they sized up one another.
 

“Did you touch the lady?” Nick asked. Tony took his question as an invitation for conflict.

“I don’t recall it being any of your business,” Tony said. Being a man much smaller in stature, Tony didn’t seem deterred. He stood tall and proud, not bowing down to Nick’s more domineering demeanor.

“Anything that happens to this woman is my business,” Nick retorted, unwavering. Chantal scoffed, affronted by what his words implied. Tony picked up on her dissension, and attempted to capitalize on it.
 

“She told me she had no ties here, or was that a lie?” he asked turning to look at Chantal briefly before standing his ground to Nick.
 

“The point is, I’m inside her apartment, and you’re out in the hallway,” Nick retorted smugly. Chantal had heard enough.

“Okay, that’s enough. Nick, you have no say one way or the other, however, Tony, you are not welcome here. You have one minute to get the hell out of here or I’m calling the cops,” she warned as she shook the phone at him. Nick whirled to look at her, shocked. Tony turned an odd shade of purple, backing up a step as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Chantal rolled her eyes and glanced over at Nick, before she addressed her would-be boss.

“Look, Mr. DeLuca. I could care less what your reason was for grabbing my ass, but there is no way I would work for someone the likes of you.”

“But—” Tony began, seeming a loss for words.

“Good night.” Nick smiled, reaching to shut the door in the man’s flustered face. At the last moment, just before the wood met the jamb, Nick felt a sudden force of resistance. He glanced out the door to see that Tony had blocked it.

“I will talk to her,” he said, his tone low and menacing. His eyes were sharp and dilated, glaring at Nick with a fierceness that seemed to come out of nowhere. Something sinister fueled his actions. A type of manic possession gripped him, and Nick recognized what ensnared the poor man at once.

“Chantal, get back!” Nick cried, pushing hard on the door to close out the manager who’d gone psychotic with jealousy. Tony shoved hard, putting his weight into the door. Nick took a second to push Chantal back, a second that prevented him getting enough of himself braced on the wood before Tony bulldozed his way through, clambering into the apartment with a loud clattering noise.

Chantal stumbled as she was forced out of the way, watching aghast as Tony lunged at Nick with the ferocity of an enraged beast. Nick tried to subdue Tony without hurting the man realizing now that he had no control over his actions.

“She’s mine!” Tony screamed, his hands reaching for Nick’s throat. Nick jolted out of the way, sending the man careening into the wall at full speed. Tony toppled onto the ground, a thin stream of blood trailing from his slack mouth.

Chantal cupped her mouth to muffle the scream working its way out, trying to understand what had just happened. Nick began searching the dark apartment after he pushed the front door wide to allow as much hallway light in as possible.

“We need to leave.”

“Leave? What just happened?” Chantal asked, gesturing wildly at Tony’s immobile body. Nick came over, glanced at the man for a brief moment, before he grabbed Chantal’s arm and headed out the door.

“Wait!” Chantal called, tugging against Nick’s impenetrable strength. He headed out into the hallway, ignoring Chantal’s protests and shouted questions. He pulled her down the stairs, past the closed doors of her neighbors asleep in their beds.

“Nick!” she yelled as he dragged her behind him. Nick paused for a moment once they were outside. The cold bitter air hit her cheeks, and she noticed for the first time that she’d left with just her flimsy sleep tank and shorts on. And she was barefoot.

“Let’s go,” Nick said, pulling her down the block at a fast pace. The streets were vacant, wet from the late summer rain. A few cars drove by while she obviously was being dragged against her will, but no one paid them any attention. Chantal stumbled, trying to avoid anything that could cause her bare feet pain. Nick seemed oblivious.

“Nick, where are we going?”

“Away from here,” he answered and pulled her into a darkened alleyway. “We need to get you safe. That man was possessed, specifically enthralled to come after you.”

“What? I don’t understand.”
 

“That man was taken by Jealousy,” Nick said, pointing toward her apartment building two blocks away. His eyes held an urgency that Chantal didn’t understand. “He wasn’t himself.”

Confused, Chantal stared at him, unable to formulate a question. Her mind reeled with what she’d seen, trying to piece it all together. She opened her mouth to speak, but a faint sound near them stopped her cold.

Nick flashed in front of her, pushing her back onto the cold, stone wall, his arms spread wide to shelter her. His eyes were fixed toward the end of the alleyway, as if he could see something there she couldn’t.

“Hold onto me,” he said. She thought about arguing but a steady keening noise from the dark end of the alley made her obedient, and she wrapped her arms around him, clasping her wrists for good measure. “Close your eyes. It’ll help with the dizziness.”

They melted into the darkness, becoming part of the shadows. Chantal watched, wide-eyed, as the world around her disappeared. Even her own skin lost its pigment. Her body felt light, like it weighed nothing more than the clothes on her back. The sense of smell and hearing were heightened, but her vision was oddly two-dimensional, flat and without definition.

Nick traveled at an unimaginable speed. The dark environment around them twisted and bent, becoming a form manipulated and contorted by his will alone. Streams of gray and black whizzed by her, leaving her confused and disoriented. She blinked her eyes a couple of times, trying to regain her equilibrium. She should have listened when Nick told her to keep her eyes closed, but she wasn’t willing to miss anything that could explain what was going on or why.
 

Her grip on Nick tightened when she was hit with a wave of nausea. Just as she thought she couldn’t take any more, objects began to solidify into recognizable forms: a building, a city street, a darkened car zooming past.

The nausea subsided as everything around her slowed to a normal pace. Her arms around Nick’s waist felt heavy; even the effort to bring air into her longs seemed a chore. Vertigo clutched at her head, making her feel unbalanced.

“I told you to close your eyes.” He chuckled.

Chantal kept her arms around Nick’s waist, afraid that if she were to let go, she’d tumble to the ground in a nauseated heap. She noticed Nick checking if the shadows were safe.

   
Shadows.

It seemed to come back to the darkness. Everything that had come out of the gloom wanted to harm her in some way. Even the boy, with his prophetic declarations and chilling persona, left her with more unanswered questions.