Amanda Bonilla: Blood Before Sunrise

A third arrow zinged toward my head, and Tyler moved, damned fast I might add, flinging me to the ground. Like the second arrow, this one stuck in the brick, burning the masonry to grains of spilling sand. Tyler spread his arms wide, his palms tracing the air above me, and a dome of tangible energy pinned me to the pavement. I guess I should’ve been glad I wasn’t lying facedown in a puddle, but close enough.

“Stay.” The one word came harshly through Tyler’s lips, making me wonder just where the hell he thought I’d be going, trapped as I was.

The air became saturated with magic, tugging at my senses and settling against my skin like the caress of a thousand downy feathers. Without a backward glance, Ty evaporated from where he stood. Just-poof!-and he was gone. His magic seemed to dissipate as well, crackling in the air like tiny sparks in his wake. Too bad his leaving hadn’t released me from my invisible prison. I tried to push myself to at least a sitting position, but that attempt proved futile. The tight dome of energy held me down nice and cozy against the cold, wet, trash-strewn pavement. How completely charming.

The cold soaked through my black nylon pants, right into my bones. I hate the cold- hate hate it. But could you imagine me walking the beaches of Florida, head to toe in black-combat boots, long-sleeved Under Armour and all? Me neither. Tyler hadn’t even left me enough room in my little prison to maneuver the long tails of my duster beneath me. Sharp pieces of asphalt-covered rock jabbed into the palms of my hands and knees. I looked like a replica of a tarantula-the kind with a bubble of clear resin poured over it. If Tyler showed back up in one piece, I was going to take great pleasure in showing him how much I appreciated his gentle care of the woman he loved.

I’d been lying on the ground for twenty minutes before he returned. Again, I felt a strange weight in the bottom of my gut, and the atmosphere sparked as if in warning. In the blink of an eye, Ty stood beside me, his expression that of barely controlled rage. My own mood had become less than hospitable, and during Ty’s absence, I’d graduated from wanting to give him a few scrapes to wanting to give him a black eye. With another sweeping motion of his hands, he traced the air above me, and the invisible dome lifted like the weight of too many blankets. I filled my lungs with air, preparing to give it to him with both barrels.

“There’s no sign of the shooter,” Tyler said through gnashed teeth. “Anywhere! How did the fucker get away?”

I drew my dagger and pointed it dead center at Ty’s sternum. Ain’t love grand? “Don’t you ever do that to me again.” My voice dripped with poison. “You understand?”

He took a step toward me, his arms outstretched and palms facing upward as if he were pleading for understanding. Sorry, buddy. That well’s all dried up . Tyler’s love was absolute, uncompromising-just as strong as the bond he’d secured when he pledged himself as my genie. And his protection extended to the point of near obsession. Any other girl would have been swooning over his gallant display.

I am not any other girl.

I put my free hand out to stay his progress while I kept the dagger’s tip held high in front of his face. He walked right into my palm, and I felt the beat of his heart even through the thick fabric of his coat. Strong, steadily slowing from the previous exertion of the chase. “Darian, I-”

“Never again, Ty,” I said. “I’m not fucking around.”

I could have listened while he apologized and spilled his guts about how he’d only been trying to protect me, how much he loved me. I could have forgiven him on the spot, and we could’ve gone back to my place, arm in arm, a perfect loving couple.

Instead, I joined the night air and left him right where he stood.

Under the cover of shadow, I came around to the front entrance of the bar. The thrumming pulse of supernatural energy danced across my skin, something familiar and powerful. A woman darted across the street and paused on the sidewalk, glancing anxiously toward the alley I’d just come from. I recognized her from the PNT Summit a few months ago: She was a Sidhe, one of the oldest and most powerful species in the Fae lineage.

Moira.

What the hell was she doing here?

Her gaze settled across the street, on the exact spot where I stood. Eyes narrowed shrewdly, she smiled as if she could see me through the cover of shadow before taking off at a run. She moved so fast, in fact, that I lost sight of her before I could even think of chasing after her.

Sunlight tingles like tiny pinpricks of sensation when it joins with my skin. The gray indifference of dusk and dawn leave me feeling too warm and suffocated, like I’m wearing a scratchy wool sweater in the middle of August. Nothing appeals to me in the way that welcoming darkness does. Like cool satin flowing over my flesh. Despite what I am now, I have always loved the moonlit hours. Even in my human life, I preferred the night. So I suppose I’d always been a Shaede in my heart of hearts.

Was I still?

I stepped from the cowl of darkness into my solid form. I had no desire to travel unseen, though my near brush with death-or something worse-suggested that traveling under the cover of shadow might have been the wiser choice. Ignoring my better judgment, I walked with a swagger that would have set a gangbanger back on his heels. Throwing myself out there like a fresh piece of meat was a fuck-you to whoever had slung a magic arrow at my head. A big fuck-you. I was pissed and didn’t care who knew it.

It wasn’t quite midnight, and Seattle was barely gearing up. I cut across First Avenue, hit Stewart Street, and headed toward the Market. Along with the Space Needle, Pike Place Market is one of Seattle’s most notable icons. Probably why I always felt compelled to go there, no matter the time of day. Humans had always drawn my curiosity, as well as the places they frequented. I was intrigued by the normalcy of their actions, the sense of safety that prompted them to operate with their guards down. False comfort. I knew from experience that ignorance was bliss. I envied them that ignorance, and I wished like hell I could get mine back.

The tails of my duster bounced against my heels as I walked. Heavily scented air caressed my face-a musty smell of brine, fish, and green things-the waterfront making its way to me. My steps against the cobbled sidewalk ticked in precise rhythm to my internal clock. I counted the seconds: one, two, three, four …until my anger had finally begun to subside. I stared up at the Public Market sign glowing bloodred against the backdrop of darkness. Blood …A shiver ran up my spine like tiny insects. My blood happened to be special. It had brought Tyler back from the brink of death. I was so unique, in fact, I’d become the prey of an unknown hunter. Tonight’s near miss had been proof enough of that.

Tall buildings loomed to my left, their mirrored windows winking in the glowing light of streetlamps, the tops swallowed by dark night. As I paused midstep, the feeling of insects traveling the highways of my skin intensified. Someone, or some thing , was watching me. Instinctively I reached with my right hand for my left shoulder blade, where my katana usually hung. I’d left it at home- lovely -so I fingered the hilt of my dagger instead. I never used guns. Too impersonal.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…,” I whispered, standing still as a statue as I tried to gauge the location of my hidden admirer. A breeze rustled my hair, bringing with it a tang that burned my nostrils. The scent was unfamiliar, but that didn’t mean anything. Friend or foe, I’d learned months ago that creatures scarier than I roamed at the edge of the shadows.