the blinds, there she was, flying along and trailing her pale pink shimmer behind her. He sat forward when he saw that she was about to crash, but she veered around their truck just in time, pounding it with her hand as she passed it. He stared at the glowing hand print she’d left on the side of the truck for an hour, watching it slowly fade to the slightest imprint.
Her paths crisscrossed, some glowed more brightly than others. It seemed the brighter the shine, the more recent she’d been there. The pink was everywhere…he suspected it meant she’d lived here her whole life.
Warriors, as a rule, were transient. Their lives were irrevocably altered by their ancestors who’d revolted against the Warlochs. Now they were hunted like dogs. William’s hands fisted behind his head. They were built to fight, bequeathed a destiny to battle…war was in their blood, but now they were merely prey of the Warlochs. With all of their gifts, some might call them curses, they couldn’t seem to overcome the relentless predators that chased them across the globe.
Predators that killed so viciously it made him ill to think about it. Predators that he feared might have found him and his dad already, after the prickle of danger he’d felt while walking Jane home.
His mother had been killed protecting him when he was just an infant. His father had finally told him about it last year. It was welcome information about a mother he never knew and a woman his father never talked about. The knowledge had given him a better sense of his worth; his mother had deemed him worthy of her last life.
Even so, he and his father didn’t have a sterling relationship. Neither one of them spoke much; they were all about action. The morning ritual of Misrillet was about as close to communicating as they got: that, and the hand-to-hand combat drills.
Starting a new school was no big deal. He’d attended a different one almost every year of his life. He found himself following Jane’s paths to school, curious about the girl whose life he could trace so easily with just his eyes. Seeing her for the first time in full sunlight was the second shock of his day. It made him angry. If she had been plain, maybe he wouldn’t have been so curious. But no. Plain Jane, he snorted to himself. If only.
Jane’s eyes were like silver; she possessed a penetrating gaze. Her hair fell in long waves and was the color of some sleek animal’s sable coat. Her white teeth gleamed when she smiled, and she had the most endearing crooked grin, when she relaxed. The blush slayed him, though.
He’d lied today. Didn’t even bat an eye when he did it.
He’d told her he hadn’t noticed, because some part of him sensed that she might never look at him again if he admitted it. But that telling flush of color just positively wrapped itself around her creamy skin and made him crazy. To think that he had that kind of influence on her did something to his heart.
He thanked the gods she’d confronted him about it, because that gave him an opening to ask about it later. To hear her explain her vulnerability actually made perfect sense to him. Being unable to camouflage oneself could be very dangerous in the field of battle.
Her admission made him catch his breath. It brought out a protective instinct he hadn’t known he possessed. She maybe was joking about her ‘imminent death’, but he would make sure it never came to that anyway. That’s what he was made for, wasn’t it?
The question game he came up with was brilliant. Not given to smiling, he did smile when he remembered getting to ask her about the very thing that obsessed his thoughts, right after her pink shimmers. Just asking her about it made her skin flush the reddest it had been all day.
Possessed of the keenest senses, he could spot the instant her skin color changed, and could almost hear her heart rate increase at the same time. He knew her scent now too, a mix of newspaper ink and lavender with a touch of
Her paths crisscrossed, some glowed more brightly than others. It seemed the brighter the shine, the more recent she’d been there. The pink was everywhere…he suspected it meant she’d lived here her whole life.
Warriors, as a rule, were transient. Their lives were irrevocably altered by their ancestors who’d revolted against the Warlochs. Now they were hunted like dogs. William’s hands fisted behind his head. They were built to fight, bequeathed a destiny to battle…war was in their blood, but now they were merely prey of the Warlochs. With all of their gifts, some might call them curses, they couldn’t seem to overcome the relentless predators that chased them across the globe.
Predators that killed so viciously it made him ill to think about it. Predators that he feared might have found him and his dad already, after the prickle of danger he’d felt while walking Jane home.
His mother had been killed protecting him when he was just an infant. His father had finally told him about it last year. It was welcome information about a mother he never knew and a woman his father never talked about. The knowledge had given him a better sense of his worth; his mother had deemed him worthy of her last life.
Even so, he and his father didn’t have a sterling relationship. Neither one of them spoke much; they were all about action. The morning ritual of Misrillet was about as close to communicating as they got: that, and the hand-to-hand combat drills.
Starting a new school was no big deal. He’d attended a different one almost every year of his life. He found himself following Jane’s paths to school, curious about the girl whose life he could trace so easily with just his eyes. Seeing her for the first time in full sunlight was the second shock of his day. It made him angry. If she had been plain, maybe he wouldn’t have been so curious. But no. Plain Jane, he snorted to himself. If only.
Jane’s eyes were like silver; she possessed a penetrating gaze. Her hair fell in long waves and was the color of some sleek animal’s sable coat. Her white teeth gleamed when she smiled, and she had the most endearing crooked grin, when she relaxed. The blush slayed him, though.
He’d lied today. Didn’t even bat an eye when he did it.
He’d told her he hadn’t noticed, because some part of him sensed that she might never look at him again if he admitted it. But that telling flush of color just positively wrapped itself around her creamy skin and made him crazy. To think that he had that kind of influence on her did something to his heart.
He thanked the gods she’d confronted him about it, because that gave him an opening to ask about it later. To hear her explain her vulnerability actually made perfect sense to him. Being unable to camouflage oneself could be very dangerous in the field of battle.
Her admission made him catch his breath. It brought out a protective instinct he hadn’t known he possessed. She maybe was joking about her ‘imminent death’, but he would make sure it never came to that anyway. That’s what he was made for, wasn’t it?
The question game he came up with was brilliant. Not given to smiling, he did smile when he remembered getting to ask her about the very thing that obsessed his thoughts, right after her pink shimmers. Just asking her about it made her skin flush the reddest it had been all day.
Possessed of the keenest senses, he could spot the instant her skin color changed, and could almost hear her heart rate increase at the same time. He knew her scent now too, a mix of newspaper ink and lavender with a touch of
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