Night Fury: First Act (Night Fury 1)

I nod vacantly while making mental notes.

Pests. Not people. Check.

This is really happening. I feel dazed and overwhelmed with the information being drilled into me in such a short amount of time.

Frankie walks with us. She adds, “The thing that’s hard to get past is that they look like regular people. And they may be people, but they aren’t good people, Cat. They’re scum, and they need to be stopped, whatever the crime. They wouldn’t be in our system if they were law abiding citizens. You got that?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

A mixture of excitement and fear causes adrenaline to violently course through my body. So much, it threatens to make me sick. I close my eyes and control my breathing, forcing myself to keep calm.

To tell you the truth, there is nothing about tonight that scares me—apart from the fact everyone expects me to fail.

That scares the crap out of me.

I give myself an internal pep talk.

James was a mistake. Never again. You can do this. You’ve been training for this since you were five years old. This is your second nature—your calling in life.

And most importantly...

This is God’s will.

I have had that fact drilled into me for forever. I have to believe that this is God’s will. If not, I am just a criminal, no better than the people I am to hunt.

Bob leads us through the kitchen, out the backdoor, and past my garden. We walk until we reach the barn that sits at the very back of the property. It’s an absolute eyesore. It almost ruins the elegance of the rest of the property, but that eyesore is there for good reason.

The big barn doors look old; it’s paint is peeling and faded. Bob avoids them, instead, moving to the side of the building to a steel-reinforced door with a keypad on the side. He keys in a six-digit number. “If you do well tonight, you’ll get your own code.”

Frankie smiles at me, and it calms my soul.

At least she believes in me.

The steel door whirs and vibrates a moment before we hear the latch click over. Bob pushes it in and we follow him inside. A spotlight comes on, bathing us in bright light.

Four vehicles sit covered by gun-metal grey covers, taking up most of the space in the barn. Bob moves silently between the cars towards the very back wall of the barn, where another steel door awaits. And my heart skips a beat. Or two.

This is it.

I’ve entered the nerve centre of Mirage only once before. That was two years ago. I was sixteen then, and Bob thought I was ready for my first job. At the time, I thought I was too.

We were both wrong.

Bob stands by the keypad. Without looking back, he asks, “You sure about this, Cat?”

I wish people would stop asking me.

Every time I’m asked this question, a small piece of my self-confidence bails on me. I grit my teeth, holding back the snide remark that sits at the very tip of my tongue, and I respond instead, “Sure as sugar, Bob. Do it. Let me in.”

He keys in his code; the door whizzes and purrs, clicks over, and then I wait.

Bob pushes open the door, steps back and offers a genuine smile, all for me. “Welcome back, Night Fury.” With a jerk of his chin in Frankie’s direction, he adds, “Moon Shadow will take you through. I have some things I need to do.”

“Thanks, Boss.”

He looks at me a moment before pulling me into a bear hug. “Just do your best.”

And then he’s gone.

Frankie—codename: Moon Shadow—takes my hand and pulls me along behind her. The steel door shuts behind us and she says, “You know he doesn’t actually have anything to do, right? He’s just scared shitless of his little girl growing up.”

I know this should make me roll my eyes, but I smile instead. “Well, he’s the closest thing I have to a dad. I guess it would be hard for him.”

She scoffs, “He’s been training you for over a decade, Cat. He needs to put a lock on those emotions. They don’t do anyone any good.”

Of course, she’s right, but it’s nice to have someone care about you that much.

I trail her down the long, dimly lit hall, the sounds of our footsteps echoing through the narrow space.

I’m walking towards my destiny.

How poetic.

We reach the end of the hall. Frankie clicks in her keypad code. More humming and buzzing, the steel door clicks opens and finally—finally—I’m home.I take the first step towards the rest of my life, and I do it wearing a shit-eating grin.

This is exciting.

I’m excited.

My life will be thrown one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. From boring to extraordinary.

I can’t wait.

“Welcome back to Mirage.” Frankie starts her descent down the stairs to the ground floor, but I’m glued to my position on the top floor.

My eyes scan down to the open area. I try to take it all in, but it’s hard, like walking from complete darkness into the intense brightness of the midday sun.

And it is bright in here. The area is completely open, with two desks in the middle of the open space. Four whiteboards full of writing stand surrounding the desks, which are littered with documents and photographs. Sounds come from all around. Computers beep, printers scratch, the fax machine plays its tune, but more clearly, dance music blasts from the stereo down below.

Frankie walks over to the two men who bop their heads to the music, typing away furiously. One man talks into the headset attached to his ear, and the other jumps out of his chair to add more scribble to one of the whiteboards.

I know one of men sitting below, but the other is new, and when I say new, I mean he had to have been recruited within the two years I haven’t been here. So, I guess he might not be so new. Perhaps I’m the new person in this room.

You’ve been here your whole life and you’re the new person?

That stinks.

Frankie approaches the man typing away, leans close to him and says something that makes him stop typing, stand and look up towards the second floor. He spots me and grins, mumbling, “Holy shit.” I chuckle and he booms, “Get your ass down here! Been too damn long.”

I make my way down the stairs towards Clark—codename: Data Stream—the handsome computer whiz. Taller than me, but not too tall, he was my very first crush. His brown hair is now long enough to put behind his ear, and his blue eyes are warm and welcoming. His stubble makes him look manlier than what should be permitted for a computer geek.

Thinking of that causes my face to turn bright red as I approach. I haven’t seen him in a long time.

Smiling all the way over to him, my heart stutters. I wring my hands together. I feel suddenly nervous. “Hello, Clark.”