Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
[WiseWave620: Scotty’s been asking us if we’ve found any lollipops around. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?]
* * *
T ally had scheduled the day off for Mark’s birthday party months ago. Only now, she was attending as his friend and not his girlfriend. To her uncomfortable surprise, none of his relatives knew this. Both Tally and Simone had words with Mark about him not informing his family of his change in relationship status. After the fifth or sixth time of an aunt, female cousin, or a grandmother asking Tally if there were any plans of a wedding in their future, Tally had decided to get out of there. She didn’t want to cause a stink on Mark’s birthday or at his party, but she also wasn’t going to go along with his lie.
Simone and Tom decided to leave early, too.
“I mean,” Tom tried to defend his friend as they walked out of the hotel where the party was being held, “he wasn’t lying . He just didn’t tell them you two had broken up. It wasn’t like he lied and said you were dating when you were just friends.”
Tally heard Simone roll her eyes. “Don’t try to defend the man. A lie of omission is still a lie.”
“I might have even gone along with it if he’d told me beforehand that he didn’t want to tell his family until after his birthday.” Tally shrugged. “That was honestly the reason I hesitated to break up with him, but he told me he was going to tell them and he didn’t. That is a lie,” she informed Tom.
“Yeah, you got a point there,” Tom begrudgingly admitted. “You two wait here. I’ll go get the car.”
Tally heard Tom’s footsteps fade on the asphalt as he walked off through the parking lot. The afternoon sun felt good on Tally’s face and she tipped her chin up towards it. “Just ask,” she said to Simone.
“What? Ask what?”
“Whatever it is that has you shifting your weight back and forth like you have ants in your pants,” Tally told her. “And don’t make that face at me.”
“You’re really freaky sometimes, you know that?” Simone snapped without ire. “Fine. It’s been a few weeks since everything happened with the police and then you breaking up with Mark. I just… I wanted to know how you were doing with, um, you know…”
“My stalker?” Tally supplied.
“Yeah,” Simone drawled. Tally felt her weight shift again and knew Simone was looking around them. “I mean, is he here?”
“He’s here,” Tally said with confidence. She couldn’t sense her mystery man currently, but he’d been around earlier. “And he does work for my dad so you can stop calling him my ‘stalker’.”
“Tal, the man stands over you while you sleep. He’s your stalker.”
Tally made a face. “He does not. He’s never been inside my bedroom.”
Simone’s voice was filled with concern as she spoke. “Tally, it is not normal . You’ve never spoken to him?—”
“He’s never spoken to me,” Tally corrected. “I speak to him all the time.”
That did not cheer Simone up at all. “That doesn’t make the situation any less creepy. I really think you need to ask your dad for a different bodyguard. It’s not right that he’s always around you, that he’s inside your apartment the way that he is.”
“He would never hurt me,” Tally told her best friend with certainty.
“What do you know about him? I mean, really know about him? Do you even know his name?”
Tally’s heart panged at the reminder that she did not. “I don’t know why he doesn’t speak,” she confided in Simone. “I’ve asked him for his name, and though he’s never said a word, I can tell you that he’s very protective. I am safe with him, Si.” Which should bother her, because she could take care of herself, but it didn’t. “He doesn’t eat much. I have no idea if he’s eating elsewhere or literally doesn’t eat that much. He never seems to sleep either. I think there’s something…different about him. It’s the way people react to him initially. Like their gut instinct is to be scared of him. Maybe it’s how he dresses or something on his face, but there’s always fear in people who see him.”
Simone put her hand on Tally’s arm. “That should alarm you , Tally. You can’t see what it is they’re seeing.”
“Or they don’t see what I see,” Tally contradicted. “People don’t realize just how limited they are by their eyes.”
“Tally, I think you’re being incredibly na?ve.”
“Simone, I know you worry, but you need to trust me on this. He would never hurt me.” She turned her face to the left. “Tom’s coming.”
* * *
[WiseWave620: I keep waking up wondering if today’s the day I’m either going to learn you’re alive or find out you’re actually dead.]
* * *
Tom and Simone dropped Tally off outside her apartment building. They offered to walk her upstairs, but Tally waved them off. “Go. Relieve your babysitter early or take the afternoon to yourselves. I’m good.”
They left, and from the way they were leaning towards each other, they were not going to be sending their babysitter home early.
Tally felt her mystery man step up behind her. She had no idea how he got from the hotel to her apartment as fast as he did and wondered if he had a vehicle stashed in the city. “I have the entire afternoon free,” she told him. “I want to go somewhere, show you something. Will you take me?”
He stepped up closer to her, his body heat surrounding her. Yet, he didn’t touch her. If Tally took a step backwards, her back would press into his front, but Tally held herself steady. She imagined him leaning forward, pressing his forehead to the back of her head, breathing in her shampoo. Her body hummed in anticipation, despite doubting he would.
Because he never touched her. Never spoke to her. She knew nothing about him, and yet she had these fantasies about him. Hell, she’d even started dreaming about him.
Though her question went verbally unanswered, Tally had the sense that his stepping forward and crowding her was his way of telling her that he’d take her anywhere. She hoped it was true, because she said, “We’ll need a taxi unless you’re okay to walk. Actually, if you’re okay to wait while I change, I’d prefer to run. I haven’t gone for a long jog in a long time.”
He stepped back. A moment later, she heard the distinctive beeping of the keypad outside her apartment’s main door. She didn’t bother to ask how he knew the code, though she did wonder, “Is this the first time you’re using the front door?”
She got no answer as he held the door open for her.
Tally changed as quickly as she could while he waited in her living room. She grabbed two sports water bottles from her cabinet and filled them with water before handing him one. She noticed immediately how he took it without having to touch her fingers.
She tried to hide the disappointment she felt at that.
Once outside, Tally folded her cane, putting it into the pouch she had strapped to her back. She knew her mystery man was wearing leather, even in the June heat, and wondered if perhaps jogging was the wrong activity for him.
But it wasn’t like he’d voiced a protest.
After stretching, Tally started out slow, wanting to not only warm up for herself but to also ensure that her mystery man could keep up. He did. She picked up her pace, he matched it. She picked it up even more and he still remained at her side. Christ, she couldn’t even hear him breathing heavily.
Was the guy even human? Maybe he was a machine? Part android? Could vampires go out in the day or had that myth been debunked? Maybe a werewolf?
They went for about ten miles before Tally started to slow, a stitch in her side. Even with how in shape she was, it had still been a long time since she went for a distance run. She drank nearly all of her water bottle in a single gulp.
“How…the fuck…” she gasped, “are you…not breathing…?” She stretched her back, trying to get the stitch in her side to let up. “I don’t…think you’re human.”
Rather than reply, he took her nearly finished water bottle from her right hand and replaced it with his full water bottle that she’d given him at her apartment.
She drank that one too, only slower. “Nope. Not human.”
If her internal map was correct, and it usually was, they were about a half mile to her destination. Tally started walking it, grabbing her cane from the pouch attached to her back. Since he’d started walking with her and had stopped trailing behind her, she had noticed that he was always on whichever side was between her and the road.
The storage facility she took him to was down towards the aquarium. As the crow flies, it was only about three miles from her apartment, but there was a lot of city that they had to navigate around that a bird simply flew over.
Once inside, Tally threw open the overhead door to reveal her secret. Well, it wasn’t a secret from him. He was the only one who knew she could fight, but it was a secret to the rest of the people she knew in Atlanta.
“I don’t get to come here often,” Tally said as she walked inside. “There should be a light switch around the entrance somewhere if you need it. Since losing my office manager at the restaurant and then my dining room manager going on maternity leave, things have been more crazy than usual. But this is where I come when I need to destress and to train.”
She heard the whirl of the garage door closing and then the hum of the lights turning on over their heads. She knew what he was seeing and felt a little nervous because she wasn’t sure of his reaction to it all.
The twenty by fifteen storage space had a large mat in the center of the floor. Sparring dummies lined the mat. On one side was a set of uneven bars and a balance beam. On the other side was a rock wall and climbing peg wall.
She felt him approach her from behind. “My dad started training me when I was young. As far back as I could remember, he enrolled me in karate, gymnastics, swim team, cross country… I even played baseball.”
Tally felt his head turn towards her and understood the question. “Well, actually baseball is incorrect. The regular team wouldn’t let me play even after I proved I could. Liability or some shit. I played Beep Ball.” She pointed to the far wall where she knew a line of targets were. “Beep Ball is the blind version of baseball. It’s exactly the same except the ball and bases emit a sound at different frequencies so we can detect where everything is. My targets and sparring dummies do the same. When I turn them on, they vibrate and I can sense the movement so I can train.” She made a face. “My dad won’t let me practice with real throwing knives unless he’s around. I keep asking him for some, but he says too much can go wrong. But I thought you’d like to see this place. See how it is that I can do what I can do.”
Tally wasn’t sure what she was expecting his reaction to be. She heard the pull of something metal from leather and then the swish of metal through the air. The sharp thwack brought her attention to the back wall.
He pulled something else out. It was the same something. She clicked her tongue in his direction to get a better sense of what was going on. He was holding something out to her.
Tally put her water bottle down and put her hand out. He placed the cool metal into her palm before letting go. Tally gripped the handle. She could feel no rubber grip, just metal. A small cross guard touched the narrow space between her pointer finger and thumb.
She brought it up towards her ear, clicking her tongue as she did. The metal dagger practically hummed back at her. It weighed just over a pound, the blade approximately seven inches. Fourteen if she included the hilt.
She rolled it around in her palm, her brain trying to comprehend what her hand and ear were telling her. “This is a Merlin blade.”
They were known for being made with exquisite craftsmanship. Expensive and designed for precision throwing. The same brand professionals used in world competitions.
“Holy fuck,” she breathed out. “How many of them do you have?”
He stepped back away from her. And then a series of swishes and thuds sounded. Thwack, thwack, thwack… Six of them. If she counted the one in her hand and the first one he threw, that was eight. He was carrying eight Merlin blades on him? ‘Holy fuck’ now seemed like an understatement.
“You carry around eight Merlin daggers on you?” Tally wouldn’t have been able to keep the shock from her voice if she tried.
She heard the crinkle of the mat as he walked across to retrieve the daggers. Before he walked back to her, she heard the flip of a switch and then the distinctive vibrations of the four targets. They pulsed in her ears, giving her a clear image of the room, like her echolocation on steroids.
Tally aimed for the far right target. It hit just shy of the bullseye.
A slight tap on her upper right arm and Tally held up her hand for the next blade. He pressed the hilt into her palm. “These daggers are fucking sweet. I would kill for a pair just like them.”
She got a sense of the weight of the dagger before throwing. She hit the same target, a little closer to the bullseye.
When he tapped her arm with the next dagger, Tally instead turned to face him. The mat they were standing on was shock absorbent, so the vibrations from the targets didn’t carry to them. She clicked her tongue and got confirmation that he was standing where she thought he was.
Carefully, she raised her right hand. Tally’s heart beat wildly as her fingertips neared his face. She honestly thought he was holding still so she could touch him, but at the last second, he took a step back, out of her reach.
Tally frowned, disappointed. “Why don’t you talk to me? You know so much about me. I’ve shared more with you than I think I’ve shared with anyone. Why won’t you talk to me? Tell me something, anything. Please … Just talk to me.”
* * *
[WiseWave620: Don’t tell the guys but I’m a total Swiftie.]
* * *
Scar stared down at Tally. His heart was thundering inside his chest, faster at the near touch of her hand than the ten mile run they’d just taken to get to her storage facility. He loathed that sad expression on her face, loathed himself even more for putting it there.
But how did he explain that he couldn’t talk to her. Might never be able to. It surprised him how much he wanted to. Over the years, José, Sissy, even Harper, had encouraged him to talk for one reason or another. He never had. The desire to push past his need to keep silent had never been this high before.
Tally’s still outstretched hand was inches from his face. All he had to do was lean into her touch. Her right hand would touch his left cheek, the one with the most noticeable scar. It would be the first thing she would feel…and she would ask questions. So many questions. How did he possibly answer them?
I will not talk…
She was right. He’d learned so much about her over the past two weeks. Hell, he’d been in Atlanta nearly a month, but it was the past two weeks that really meant the most because she’d started talking to him and he’d stopped hiding. He hadn’t fallen asleep around her again, but that was also because he was forcing himself not to. His need to protect her, to watch over her, kept him from sleeping now more than his desire for self-awareness ever had.
How did he tell her something about himself? Even something mundane would be better than nothing at all.
I will not talk…
Scar put the other six blades back in their holsters. Absolutely hating himself for his need to do it, Scar reached into his utility vest where he kept his weapons and other supplies to pull out a pair of gloves. Tally’s head tipped in a way that told him she was aware of what he was doing. Exaggerated versions of curiosity and confusion crossed her features.
Once he had his gloves on, Scar reached for her outstretched hand. He’d touched others before, but it always burned like their skin was sprayed with acid. Even with the gloves on. When he was fighting or torturing someone was the only time that he could stand the pain because he knew it was mental for him but physical for them. The pain was worth it then.
He did not clamp his hand around her wrist. Instead, he applied just enough pressure to bring her hand down a little from its face-high position. Then he took a tentative step forward.
Shame coursed through him at the amount of fear he felt in that moment. It wasn’t the anticipation of the pain he knew he would feel, either. He did not believe that she could or would hurt him.
It was the uncertainty of after , of what letting Tally touch him might mean. Not just for him, but for them .
Her fingertips just barely skimmed the marred flesh of his throat. She gasped, ripping her hand away from him as if he had burned her.
Scar held still, his breathing ragged, his heart pounding heavily inside his chest. Her touch had been so fleeting that there hadn’t been the opportunity for pain, but he knew it was coming. Tally was no coward. What she had felt might have startled her, but she would want to discover more.
Sure enough, Tally reached forward again. Her hand shook slightly as she stepped closer. The pads of fingertips were soft against his rough flesh. She did not press down, only lightly brushed her skin against his.
Other than the doctors at the hospital in Germany, no one had ever touched his throat since the noose had been cut off of him. He did not wear turtlenecks, neckties, or scarves because he could not stand the feel of anything around his neck. He didn’t even wear the chinstrap of his motorcycle helmet because it was too close to his throat.
Tally’s touch, though… The pain was fainter than he expected and the reflex that he was choking was nearly nonexistent. He didn’t swallow or twitch for fear of breaking whatever this was that kept him from feeling the agony of another’s touch.
Her fingers moved along the ragged, misshapen skin of his throat, the permanent indents of the noose that had nearly ended his life. He’d watched her read braille a number of times over the past month and it was like she was reading his history now.
“My God…” she whispered. She did not try to touch anywhere but his throat, which he was extremely grateful for. Yet when Tally took a step backwards, dropping her hand, Scar found himself longing for more of her touch.
He quickly stepped backwards, putting more distance between them. He felt antsy, like he suddenly had too much energy or like something was crawling just under his skin. It wasn’t painful , per se, but it certainly wasn’t comfortable.
Tally put her hand to her own throat, her other arm crossed over her chest. “What happened—” Scar stiffened and froze in his pacing at her question, but she cut herself off on her own. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate and none of my business.”
Scar tilted his head in confusion. He’d never told his story to anyone. Not even the Army knew it all, and José only knew what the Army had told him . Alpha probably didn’t care, only used Scar’s need for revenge to aim him like a loaded weapon at the terrorist cell.
Yet…for just a moment, a single fleeting moment, Scar wanted to tell Tally.
Not to scare her, not to horrify her. But so she would understand . So she would know a part of him that no one else in the world knew.
His eyes flew around to the different corners of the storage facility where they were standing. Her secret. Something none of her friends, or fucking Mark, knew about her. But Scar knew. Scar admired .
Tally swallowed audibly. “Whatever happened to you, I’m sorry.” She quickly wiped at her eyes, like she was trying to catch tears before they fell. She was… crying? For him? For what he’d been through, even though she didn’t know what he’d been through? “Thank you,” she said suddenly, startling Scar even further. “For showing me. It’s not that you won’t talk to me. It’s that you can’t talk to me.”
Scar had no way of correcting her, so he didn’t.
Tally held her hand out to him, palm up. It took him a moment to realize what it was she was asking for. He pulled a dagger from its sheath around his abdomen, flipped it around, and placed the hilt in her outstretched hand.
Tally took the dagger but didn’t throw it right away. Instead, she held it horizontally between her hands, careful of the extremely sharp edges of the blade. “How about this? I ask you a question. If the answer is ‘yes’, you throw a dagger. If the answer is ‘no’, you don’t and I’ll throw mine. Does that work for you?”
Scar stared at her for a long moment before pulling another blade from his vest. Tally did not flinch as it whizzed by her ear to land in the target next to the other two she’d thrown earlier.
She smiled up at him. “Good. Now I’m going to go collect those three and then we’ll each start with four. Don’t throw anymore until I get back.”
It wasn’t a question but Scar still stayed his hand.
When Tally came back to stand by him, she held out her hand for her fourth blade. He gave it. They were about twelve feet from the targets, which was a little more than average for practice throwing, but Scar was good with it if Tally was.
She moved so they were shoulder to shoulder. “Okay. First question: do you prefer cats over dogs?”
Scar’s lips actually twitched as he reached for a dagger and threw it at the target directly in front of him.
“Interesting. A cat man. You’re a rare breed.” Tally danced a dagger around between the fingers of her right hand. “Next question: are you part robot?”
Scar did not reach for a dagger. After about ten seconds, Tally smiled and threw one of hers.
“You know, I’m not sure if I was hoping for a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ on that one.” She chuckled to herself and the sound was like music to Scar’s ears. He never wanted her to stop laughing. “Okay, next question: do you sleep? Because it never seems like you do.”
That was a loaded question, but the simplified answer had him throwing a dagger at the target.
Tally pursed her lips, her expression of ponderance exaggerated. “Interesting…” She tapped the blade of a dagger against her chin. “Very interesting. All right. Here’s a good one: do you prefer coffee over tea?”
Scar stayed his hand.
“Tea over water?”
He still did not move.
“Do you only drink water?”
Quick as a flash, Scar did an underhand throw, the dagger landing dead center.
Tally’s head turned between the target and Scar. “We’re going to need more daggers, because I have so many food questions to ask you.”
She was joking, but Scar reached inside his vest to pull out his throwing stars. He flung one across the room and he noticed the moment Tally picked up its unique frequency as it flew through the air.
Her entire face lit with excitement. “Oooh. Gimme, gimme.” She made a grabby hand with her right fingers, like a toddler getting a new toy. Scar carefully handed her one of his stars. “Wow,” she breathed out. “I changed my mind. You can take back all your daggers. I want the stars!”
And because Scar seemed helpless not to give this amazing woman everything she wanted, he took back the Merlin daggers and handed over all of his shuriken five-point stars. Once they exchanged weapons, her questions continued.
* * *
[WiseWave620: Goddamn it. I thought this would help me cope, but each message just gets harder to send. I think a part of me was really just hoping you’d show up again. Just walk into the clubhouse like nothing had happened. Anyway, I think this is going to be my last message. For a while at least. Maybe forever. I don’t know. I mean, if you were alive, you’d have let us know, right? Telling you things over a secure chat that you obviously aren’t reading isn’t going to bring you back.]
[WiseWave620: I hope wherever you are that you’re happy, Julian. Of all of us, you deserve it.]
[WiseWave620: Bye.]
* * *
Whamp! Whamp! Whamp!
Scar shot up from his seat at Tally’s kitchen table. The sound, like a burglar alarm, was coming from Tally’s bedroom. Dagger in hand, Scar ran across her living room and into her bedroom, the one place he’d never entered when she was in the apartment.
Tally was sitting up in bed, the light from her phone illuminating her face. “It’s the security alarm at the restaurant,” she said hastily as soon as he entered. The sound ceased after she verbally acknowledged the alarm. Rushing out of bed, she ran for her closet. Scar tried not to take notice of the skimpy little pajama shorts she was wearing or the spaghetti-strap tank top. “Go!” Tally shouted at him. “You’ll be faster than me! I’ll get there on my own! Go!”
Hating to leave her, but knowing she had a point, Scar left.
Once down on the sidewalk, he bolted eastward towards the riverfront and her restaurant. He could smell the smoke before he could see the building. The entire brick structure was engulfed in flames.
It wouldn’t have mattered if Scar had waited for Tally or if Tally was with him. There was nothing to be done. Even the roof of the building next to the restaurant looked like it was on fire or nearly.
There was no doubt that it was arson. If there was a gas leak or some other explainable reason for the massive fire, it wouldn’t have left the windows intact. No, something else was burning inside and it was burning extremely hot. Also, Scar knew from Tally that she’d spent a lot of money on a new fire suppression system when she’d bought the building. Yet, Scar was willing to bet money that none of it was working properly.
He went around the side of the building where he knew the water main was. If it had been tampered with, he might be able to get it running again.
Scar was nearly to it when he heard a high-pitched shout. Thinking it belonged to a woman, Scar skidded to a halt. He looked around until he spotted a dark vehicle at the end of the alley. Between the glow of the fire and the nearly full moon, Scar was able to make out the outline of a man heading towards the vehicle. He was dragging something behind him.
That high-pitched cry rang out again. This time, Scar was able to place it as that of a child. Leaving the fire to the professionals, who were on their way based on the sirens in the distance, Scar bolted down the alleyway.
A man shouted in pain. “Fucking little brat! You’ll pay for that!”
The roar of the fire behind him drowned out the sound of the slap, but Scar saw it in the moonlight. The little body the man had been dragging collapsed to the asphalt.
Scar reached into his vest, pulling out two of the daggers Tally had admired so much only hours before. Without stopping his run, he threw both, one from each hand. They pierced through the flesh, muscle, and bone of the man’s hands as he was reaching for the child again.
The sirens sounded louder.
Scar leapt over the small body on the ground, his boots colliding with the man’s chest. This close, Scar recognized Gordon Tremont’s minion. The one Scar had let live to bring the news back to Tremont that his street thugs were dead.
The man’s eyes went wide when he saw Scar, recognition on his face. “Yo…you!” he stammered out. “Wait! It’s not what you think!” He held up his hands as if to stop Scar.
Scar reached forward, pulling his blades from the center of the man’s palms. Screams filled the alleyway.
“He’s just a street brat! He’s always begging for money and food! No one will miss him!”
Scar did not bother to question who would miss him . Instead, he crossed both daggers across the man’s throat, the new parallel lines immediately flowing crimson. As the man gripped his throat in a useless attempt to save his own life, Scar reached for the man’s shirt to wipe the blood off of his daggers.
Scar didn’t even know the lackey’s name. He’d struck a child, and that was a death sentence in Scar’s book.
Tucking his daggers away, Scar turned his back on the still breathing dead man to look at the crumpled up little body on the ground. It was the little homeless boy Tally fed each morning, the one Scar had given the new sneakers to.
Scar knelt beside him and was relieved when he saw the rise and fall of his little chest. He just seemed knocked out cold. Still, Scar couldn’t just leave him here.
Reaching out, Scar lifted the little boy up, cradling him to his chest. Pain lanced up his arms, but Scar bore it. The little boy needed help, and that was worth all the pain in the world. As firetrucks pulled up in front of the restaurant, Scar headed away.
Gordon Tremont was breathing his last breaths. He’d taken something from Tally that she loved. And Scar was going to make him bleed for it. He needed to get the boy somewhere safe and then…
Then Scar had some hunting to do.