L.L. Foster - The Awakening

Comprehension brought Gaby to her feet. No! That wasn't water; it was… spittle. Life.

Being crushed out of another.

Unthinking of her own possible peril, of where to go or what to do, Gaby charged forward. She tripped over fallen branches and rocks, rushed back to her feet only to be snagged in dead foliage and grabbed by thorny weeds. She fought wildly to free herself.

All in vain.

With the first thundering rush of her footsteps, the light went out and the woods fell dead silent.

Oh please . She searched, but there was nothing, no life and no death and no noise, movement, or light of any kind.

It was so silent that she knew it wasn't natural. The night breathed and shifted; it made its presence known. But not tonight. This night was utterly still.

She couldn't do anything about it. Not in the darkness, alone.

In the daylight, she'd come back.

In the daylight, she'd make someone, or something, very sorry.

Defeat left a bitter taste in her mouth and filled her heart with heavy stones. Her weakness had allowed someone to die.

Someone to murder.

She found Mort where she'd left him, and he was so relieved to see her that at first he asked no questions. Anxious to be out of the area, he just drove.

It wasn't until a few minutes later when they'd reached the apartment that he said, "Well?"

"Nothing," she lied. "A dead end." She wouldn't take Mort back there with her. She wouldn't involve him. Never again. Her skin still crawled with the taint of iniquitous depravity. She would destroy the evil, but she'd do so while protecting Mort, whatever it took.

It struck Gaby that she'd once thought her life complicated, when in fact, it was absurdly simple. But now, the more she interacted with regular, normal people, the more twisted and gnarled it made her life, and she feared she'd never get it unraveled again.

One thing was certain: having a friend was a real pain in the ass.

Midafternoon on the next day, Gaby found Luther on a basketball court. A much smaller bandage had replaced the wrapping around his head.

Hell of a way for a man with a concussion to behave , Gaby thought. He didn't exert himself overly, but he didn't sit on the sidelines either.

Rather than call out to him, she sat cross-legged on the lawn beneath the shade of a tall tree, and just observed. He played with a bunch of inner-city kids in a rainbow of colors: ebony, pink, beige, brown, caramel. Boys and girls. Some barefoot, most stick-thin. They looked to be around nine or ten.

They enjoyed themselves.

So did Luther.

It felt odd to see someone so carefree and happy, someone who knew about the cancer, and the malevolence, and the doctor…

Had he even checked into it all, as she'd asked?

Or had he blown off her directions to play instead? That is, if you could call civic duty on a hot afternoon "play."

Gaby looked up at the blistering sun. It had to be eighty-five, which was cooler than they'd had lately, but under a cloudless sky was still hot enough to roast. The blacktop court would amplify the heat. A concussion would amplify the discomfort.

Luther didn't seem to mind.

He looked good in dirty white sneakers, gray sweatpants.

and nothing else. Gaby had seen men without shirts before, but none like Luther. He had a naturally strong body, not muscles carved in a gym. Sweat gleamed on his sleek shoulders and darkened his chest hair. Gaby visually followed the path of that hair as it narrowed to a line running down his abdomen to his navel, and into his sweats.

He turned, feigned a shot, and then allowed a kid to steal the ball from him.

Her heart skipped at the sight of his smile.

Hands on his knees, head hanging and blond hair sweaty, he called it quits. "That's it, kids. I'm beat. You've done me in."

A chorus of complaints rang out, but Luther just straightened on a laugh, ruffled hair, patted backs, and walked to a bench to get a towel. Another cop, this one a shapely female, took his place.

As she passed Luther, he said, "Thanks, Ann. I appreciate it."

"No problem, sweetheart. This is my chance to prove I'm more than a pretty face."

"I never doubted it."

Gaby took in the exchange with a scowl. The woman flirted with him, but Luther took it in stride.

Without seeing Gaby, he used the towel to dry his chest and shoulders and started in her direction. Arm raised, he rubbed the back of his neck and Gaby could see his armpit, the bulge of an impressive biceps, and…

A gold cross hanging around his neck.

She was on her feet before he reached her.

He drew up short. "Gaby?" After glancing around to see if anyone had noticed her, he moved closer. "What are you doing here?"

She snatched up the cross hanging from the short chain. "What the hell is this?"

The backs of her fingers touched against his damp, heated chest. She felt his body hair, crisp but also soft. She could smell him—man and sweat and… Luther. Her heart thumped harder.

Sneering, she said, "You're kidding, right? You think this will help anything?"

He studied her, and without her realizing it, he'd curled his big hand over hers. "Come here, Gaby." He pulled her hand from his cross and led her away from the basketball court to the other side of the street. "Sit down."

The hell she would. "Don't give me orders."

He eyed her. "Are you pissed for any particular reason, or just as a way of life?"

Damn it. She hadn't been pissed. Not until she saw the woman with him. And the cross.

But mostly the woman.

Not that she'd ever tell him so. If she did, she'd really feel like a moron.

Changing the subject from her mood to his bling seemed a good idea. "That's nothing more than an icon, you know. It's not going to ward off evil."

"It was a gift from my grandmother, who has since passed away. I loved her, so I wear it."

How dare he continue to sound so levelheaded and calm in the face of her growing ire? "That's all there is to it?"

"I'm not worried about vampires, if that's what you mean."

Her shoulders straightened, but still she felt about two feet tall. "Sorry."

"Wow." A smile teased his firm mouth. "You almost said that like you meant it."

Pressing her fingers under her sunglasses, Gaby rubbed at her eyes. "Look, I didn't hunt you down to argue with you."

"Could have fooled me." He slung the towel around his neck, "How did you hunt me down?"

"I went to the station, and was told it was your day off. I asked if anyone knew where I could find you, and someone sitting in there—not a cop, but someone else—"

"Gary Webb? Twenty-one-year-old kid with too much energy?"

"Maybe. He told me to check here."

"All right. And you hunted me down because… ?"

Gaby looked around the area. "Is there someplace I can buy you a Coke?"

"No." He folded his arms over his chest. "But I can buy you one if you feel like walking a block."

"I can walk."

In strained and silent agreement, she went with Luther to his car where he stowed the towel and then dug out a white T-shirt and slipped it on. He finger-combed his sweaty hair away from his face and retrieved his sunglasses. "Ready?"

"Sure." They started down the street.

At a convenience store, he went inside, and Gaby followed. There was no air conditioning, but a squeaky fan stirred the humid air, offering a modicum of relief.

"Get what you want," he told her, so she chose a cola and a candy bar. He grabbed a sport drink and two traveler's packs of aspirin.

"Head still hurting?"

"A little. I'm fine." But he opened both packs and popped them into his mouth, washing them down with the cold green drink.

"You were probably supposed to take it easy today, huh?"

"I had other things to do besides taking it easy." He paid and they went back outside. "This way."