Riven (Mirus 2)

Marley’s fingers clamped around the edges of her sketchpad, as if the stack of paper and cardboard backing could stop the shaking of her body. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe as the thing began to grow opaque, taking on flesh tones, then different colors as if it were materializing…clothes.

Somehow she managed to force her arms to move, to slowly slip the strap of her messenger bag across her shoulders without making a sound. There was no way she could get her sketchpad put away in silence, so she gripped it tighter, muscles coiling, ready for flight. She didn’t dare take her eyes off the thing as it finished solidifying into a man. It—he—faced away from her, but she could still make out plenty of details. Dirty blond hair. Broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist. Impossibly, the thing wore jeans and an Orioles t-shirt.

Paralyzed, Marley uttered a litany of silent prayers that he would step out of the fountain away from her, that he wouldn’t turn around and see her.

Time stretched taffy slow as he rolled his shoulders and stepped over the fountain wall, placing first one booted foot on the concrete sidewalk, then the other. He began to turn.

No. No, no, no no, nononono.

Terror coalesced to ice in Marley’s veins as the man-creature swiveled his head and saw her. His eyes were vivid Aegean blue. His mouth dropped open in a small “Oh” of surprise, then shifted to a flash of chagrin. “Shit.”

Marley bolted.

With a splash, he came after her, his wet boots slapping the pavement. Marley made for the playground, slipping beneath the bridge and pelting toward the exit. He was too tall. He’d have to go around. Blood was a roaring freight train in her ears. She broke free of the park, hitting the sidewalk and dodging pedestrians and garbage cans. She chanced a look back and almost tripped over a stray dog. No sign of him. Her bag slapped at her butt as she ran, spurring her faster as she turned a corner and ducked into an alley between two houses. There was no time for indecision as she burst free at the other end. She cut left and made a zigzagging beeline for her apartment. Her lungs burned, her eyes watered and spotted with black. And still she ran.

Her thudding steps on the stairs of her building sounded too loud. She kept expecting to hear the wet slap of feet on pavement as she fumbled for her keys and struggled to stab the right one into the lock. She sensed her neighbors watching her, wondering what this crazy girl was running from, what had so terrified her. Marley acknowledged nothing and no one, almost weeping as her shaking hand managed to insert the key and twist. Then she was inside, slamming the door and keeping the same frenetic pace up the stairs to her second floor apartment.

Only when she was safe inside her space, behind the locked door, did she dare to breathe. She backed away from the door, eyes glued to the frame. Her calves bumped into something, hard, and she fell, b

utt-first, onto the old trunk she used as a coffee table. Her body shook from exertion, from fear, her sweaty hands gripping the strap of her bag like some kind of lifeline. And still she stared at the entry, waiting for a nightmare to burst inside and claim her.

~*~

Ian’s single bag was almost packed by the time the perimeter alarm went off. Tossing a spare ammo clip on the bed, he moved to the bank of monitors and checked the screen. The fair-haired man waiting at the door with hands jammed in the back pockets of his jeans looked more like a frat boy than somebody who ought to be trusted with the security of a safe house. Ian hoped that was nothing more than an appearance.

He pressed a button to activate the intercom. “What do you want?”

For a moment the guy looked around, as if seeking a second intercom button. Shrugging, he spoke. “I was answering the ad about the yard work.”

It was the agreed upon security phrase. Ian buzzed him in to the antechamber. Palming his gun, he headed downstairs. He melted back into the interior shadows and triggered the door from across the room, calmly waiting as the newcomer pushed it open and stepped inside.

He didn’t appear to be armed. Thumbs hooked lazily in the front as he swept his gaze around the eat-in kitchen. Ian said nothing, waiting to see how the guy would react, thinking he was momentarily alone. His face remained relaxed, very surfer-boy blasé, but Ian caught the subtle ripple of motion in his features.

Really? The Council sent a Nix as his replacement? Not that the water spirits weren’t capable, but this was the city. Not exactly a wellspring of escape options, should things go sideways. Maybe it was temporary, all they could scrounge up on short notice. Matthias had indicated that finding Apollo’s killer was top priority just now.

“Where’s your stuff?” asked Ian, phasing back into the light.

The Nix jolted, finally losing the lackadaisical expression as he swung around toward Ian and the gun pointed at his chest. “Dude!”

What the hell is that? An exclamation? A question? The only thing he knows how to say?

Ian waited for an answer.

“I don’t need much,” the guy said, at last. “I’m only here ’til the permanent guy gets here.”

That made Ian feel somewhat better. Not that it really mattered to him what became of this post after he left, but he was loath to abandon security to an imbecile. Anybody whose sole response to being held at gunpoint was “Dude!” clearly had no security training whatsoever.

“I, uh, need to call and report in,” said the Nix.

Ian lowered the gun and motioned him toward the bank of computers and the secure phone line. “Did you have any trouble?” With that kind of appearance, he stood out in this neighborhood about as much as a nun in a strip club.

The Nix twitched his shoulders, not quite meeting Ian’s eyes. “A human civilian saw me when I ported in.”

Ian went motionless, zeroing in on the Nix with a flat stare. This was their one, unbreakable law: Never let the humans know the paranormal world exists. The penalty of death was swift and irrefutable—for the unfortunate human. “You’re certain?”

“Oh yeah, she definitely saw me. That fountain was filthy and polluted. All the gunk fritzed out my invisibility. I tried to catch her, but she was faster.”

Fuck. He wondered exactly who this dumbass had sentenced to death, if it was someone he’d passed on his reconnaissance of the neighborhood. “Did you follow her?”