Chapter 4 #2
I didn’t have time for a staring competition.
It was time to prod a little further. I lifted my chin.
“I’ve become aware of the fact that the girl you accused me of kidnapping returned to her home, and her case has been closed.
You have no reason to have me under surveillance, but here you are, stalking me through the lunchtime rush.
” I arched my eyebrow. “And your partner—Detective Combes, was it? He’s not with you, so I’m guessing you’re not on the clock. ”
The skin around his eyes tightened. He didn’t like my assessment of him. That meant I was probably right.
“So, tell me. Why are you following me?”
The hatred in his expression shifted a little. A hint of amusement, a little malevolent glee drifted over his hard square face. When he spoke next, it was in a low growl. “I’m… waiting.”
Did I imagine it, or did a sheen of orange light roll over his eyes? No. Maybe it was just the neon flash of the drug store lights.
I cocked my head. “What does that mean? What are you waiting for, Detective?”
“I’m waiting for my moment, Ms. Moore. I’m waiting for you to do something bad and fuck up, so I can take you down.”
Whoa. “Oh. Really?” Normally, I’d have a better comeback than that, but the visceral loathing in his tone shook me to the core.
This was far more serious than I’d initially thought.
I assumed Striker was just a little suspicious of me, considering Violet, my House, had first locked him inside my apartment and vanished the doors.
Then, when the other officers had been reduced to tears, she opened up a hole in the floor to shunt them all out via a slide that spiraled down almost fifty floors to the ground. “You’re going to… take me down?”
“I am.” He nodded slowly. After a moment, a sinister smile pulled at the hard line of his thin lips. “I want it to be me. I want to be the one who does it.”
His hatred felt like sand blasting over my skin. “You, personally, want to take me down?”
He nodded again. “Uh huh.”
Okay, then. With supreme effort, I ordered my shoulders not to hunch and forced my smile not to waver. During confrontation, body language was everything.
This felt a little like back in the old days when I was at the dog park with Rusty and another big dog would approach to check him out.
Since you never knew who was a good dog and who was a bad dog, I became good at positioning myself in front of Rusty and giving the other dog my I’m the boss, don’t test me body language.
And this police officer was giving off Bad Dog vibes. “Well”—I squared my shoulders—“that all sounds sinister. Whatever did I do to you, Detective Striker?”
“It’s not what you’ve done to me. It’s what you’re going to do.”
“What is it that you think I’m going to do?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you’ll kill someone.” His jaw jutted out. “Maybe you’ll steal another spark stone and take its magic.”
And once again, my mundane reality took a hard left turn, throwing me off balance. I mouthed for a second. “Oh.”
“That’s why I’m here, Ms. Moore. I’m waiting for that moment where you try and do something you shouldn’t.
” A smile pulled at Striker’s thin lips again.
He liked that he had unsettled me. “Maybe you and the traitor will try and fuck up the rightful King’s plans again.
Maybe you’ll mess with things you have no business messing with. ”
I wrestled back control, mentally tugging my Chosen One hat back on. “Who are you to tell me what I should be messing with?” I managed.
He tilted his head, looking down his nose at me. “You have no right to sit on the throne.”
Damnit, he’d knocked me off balance. He was obviously a supe of some kind. I hadn’t realized it when he raided my apartment. “You’re… you’re…”
“The nerve of you,” he went on, ignoring me, his voice a low, guttural rumble. “It’s astounding what women think they can do these days. Just because we let you go out to work, you think you have a right to sit next to us at the table and make decisions on what is best for all of us.”
I swallowed. “Wow. That’s some pretty heavy misogynistic undertones to your words, there, Det?—”
“There’s no place for you at the table. Your place is in the kitchen and in the nursery with the children.
” His eyes narrowed. “The fucking nerve of you, thinking you have any right to the throne. This is the problem with society today,” he spat out.
“We tell girls that they can do anything, and they think they can, even while they’re crying and moaning about their periods and getting all emotional. ”
“Well,” I said, trying to keep my tone even. “To be honest, Striker, you actually sound quite emotional yourself right now.”
“The King was right; women have no place in these discussions. The Worlds need to be united; he was right about that, too. We need someone strong to lead us.” He glared at me.
“But the idea that a woman like you could lead us?” Striker pursed his lips, hocked, and spat at my feet.
“I’d rather watch this whole Middle World burn to the ground. ”
My mouth dropped open.
He spat.
At my feet.
The magic in my core roared to life, and a swirling vortex of immense power threatened to erupt out of me.
I felt my muscles swell as the indignant rage overwhelmed me with no place to go.
The seams on my power suit strained. For several long seconds I struggled with the sudden surge of magic, begging for release.
Punch through his chest, yank out his heart. Pull down that building on top of him and bury him alive. Pull his head from his shoulders and punt it like a football over the bridge.
It took every ounce of my strength to clamp down, to hold it, to stop myself from exploding.
This was exactly what Striker wanted. He wanted me to explode. He wanted me to make a mistake, especially in public. If I gave him any excuse, he’d arrest me.
At that thought—the thought of being arrested again—my blood ran cold. But the magic bubbling inside still overwhelmed me.
Detective Striker’s smile grew snake-like as he watched me struggle with my power.
“See?” he drawled. “So emotional.” He leaned in closer, too close.
His breath stank like rotting meat. “I’m watching you closely, Ms. Moore.
And the second you fuck up, I’m going to be right here.
And I hope you resist,” he said, baring his teeth slightly. “I hope to God you try and resist.”