Breaking Away (The Man in the Shadows) by Erin M. Truesdale Page A

took his phone out from the front pocket of his jeans and flipped it up, cutting through the air like a knife as it pivoted open. “Dammit,” he breathed, annoyed, when he noticed that his phone was on its last vestige of battery power. I better make this as quick as possible, then he thought. Dialing the number three, the Père’s speed dial number, he raised the phone up and smashed it to his ear rigidly. He paced frantically as he waited for each ring to go by, anticipating an answer at any moment. On the fourth ring, a man answered the phone, sluggishly, tired.
    “...Hello?”
    “Père? It’s Sir Ethan, I have a very important question for you.”
    Yawning, the man asked, “Who is this?”
    “Ethan,” he replied slowly, confused. “This is the Père, correct?”
    Waking up, the man laughed. “Oh. Ethan. I’m sorry, I was fast asleep. What do you need, Son?”
    Ethan drew in a quick, sharp breath, and his words ran from him like blood from a wound. “Some very strange things have been happening with a friend I brought to the club in the warehouse district last night...”
“Stop right there.” Irritation took over the man’s voice. “You brought an outsider to the club? Without my permission?”
    “I, um, I...” Ethan stumbled over his own tongue, becoming defensive. “I... yes, I did. She’s been my friend for twelve years, I didn’t think I’d have to ask permi...”
    The man dismissed it dispassionately and said, his tone verging on becoming irked, “Okay, okay... go on.”
    “Anyway,” Ethan composed himself again, laboring to shroud how jittery this conversation was making him. “I brought her there, and we had a little fight, so I lost track of her location. She disappeared. Just poof, like magic. She somehow made it home unscathed, but now I’m at her apartment to check on her and...” still pacing, eyes searching the courtyard absently, “...it looked like she was talking to someone just now, but no one was with her. It looked like she was under some sort of spell... Could her being an outsider have anything to do with this strange behavior?”
    Silence.
    Panicked, Ethan insisted, louder, eyes widening, “Hello?” He took the phone from his ear to find the battery had died, presumably during his long winded explanation of what happened to Maika. He hissed, incensed, “Fuck... FUCK!”
    A voice answered from a distance, “Quiet down, asshole!”
    Being oblivious to the early hour during his panicked cries, he glanced at his wrist watch. 5:45am. His fingers curled rigidly as he tried not to scream out of pure frustration. No wonder a resident of the apartment complex had yelled at him, no one should have to wake up before 6am due to a cursing vagrant. At a loss, he sat down cross legged, his back against a tree. The rough bark tore into his skin, but he paid it no mind. His eyes burned with tears, from the frustration and the heavy burden that weighed at his heart.
    At least he knew she was alive. What he didn’t know was who was with her, invisible or otherwise, and why exactly she seemed to be under a spell. Determined, exasperated, and, out of nowhere, astoundingly full of life’s immense fury, he leapt to his feet, hunkered down, and in a millisecond his feet burst below him like a wild animal, his shoulder taking the lead, and he flew with all of the force he could muster right into Maika’s front door. The door exploded open, ricocheted off of the inside wall, and he flew face first into her apartment.
    Finding himself on her living room floor, an expanse of tan carpet below his body, he staggered up onto his elbows, and brought one hand to his face. Blood. It ran over his lips and into his mouth, like hot melted wax, giving him the ominous taste of iron. His nose throbbed as he realized his powerful battering ram action had thrust him to the ground, and his nose took the brunt of the fall. Wincing as he touched the fresh wound, he felt as if someone had punched him right in