Lora Leigh - Navarro's Promise

How the hell she managed to hold her head up with all that hair, Mica didn’t know.

“Why don’t you tell me what has you so nervous?” Mica suggested. “You know it doesn’t help to keep these things in, Cassie, they just make you crazy.”

It was no less than the truth. Cassie was unique in more ways than one. She was completely unusual and, sometimes, damned frightening.

There were “gifts” she possessed, friends she walked with that others couldn’t see. There was one friend in particular that Cassie seemed to be losing touch with though, and Mica knew it worried her.

“Have you seen her?” Mica asked matter-of-factly after several seconds of watching her frown at the holo-vision.

Cassie stilled. The sudden stiffness was telling, and worrying.

Cassie had “friends” that others only dreamed of having. Her imaginary friends weren’t imaginary though. They were very real to her, and Mica had learned over the years that however Cassie knew what she knew, she was tortured by information she had more than once stated she wished she didn’t know.

The other girl shook her head slowly after a moment. “No.” Her voice was small, soft. “I haven’t seen her.”

The “her” was the one Cassie had called a fairy as a child. The young woman was beautiful, Cassie had once told Mica. Fragile and frail, with such an air of wisdom, warmth and grace that she had possessed the power to calm Cassie even during the most horrible events of her young life.

The “fairy” had recently begun disappearing though. At first for only a few days, then longer and longer, until lately it seemed that the woman only Cassie could see hadn’t reappeared at all.

“I don’t understand it,” Cassie finally said, the fear in her voice rocking Mica to her toes. “She warned me of the future, Mica, then she just disappeared. As though it was too horrible for her to have to stay and witness.”

Mica’s friend turned from the screens. Deep blue eyes were damp and welling with moisture, thick black lashes spiking with it as she obviously fought to hold the moisture back. There was the slightest tremble of her lips before she could contain it.

Cassie was obviously becoming more distressed by the day with the disappearance of the woman that had been a part of her life since she was a very young child.

“She’s done this before, Cassie,” Mica reminded her.

“But not for this long,” Cassie whispered, the cool calm she had adopted as a young adult disappearing to reveal a frightened young woman. “And not after such a warning.”

What could Mica say? She was never comfortable discussing the “fairy,” the ghosts that had come later or the other visions that sometimes visited Cassie.

“Give it time, Cassie, she’ll come. She’s always come back just when you thought she wouldn’t.”

“I don’t understand it.” Cassie moved quickly from her chair, those long loose curls waving around her in a manner that had Mica totally envious. “She’s never been gone this long before, Mica.”

Mica struggled to come up with something that would comfort Cassie. That was part of her job as Cassie’s part-time personal assistant. A damned fine-paying job, as she well knew. Whenever Dash Sinclair realized his daughter was becoming anxious or overloaded with work, then Mica was excused from her job as an accountant for a major news firm and flown to Sanctuary for however long Cassie needed her. Mica helped Cassie in the PR office, sometimes did minor accounting for the office and generally did all she could to take as much pressure as possible off Cassie’s shoulders.

If Mica felt bad about the fact that she was being paid to help her friend, then she tried to put it behind her. She forced herself to remember that without the Breed’s willingness to pay her, then Mica could never have afforded to help Cassie as she did. And the fact that Cassie needed someone to talk to, to confide in, had never been more apparent than it was now.

“And like you’ve said before,” Mica reminded her, “sometimes, she does things to make you work it out yourself. Maybe that’s why she’s absent longer this time. Sort of like a mother leaving a child with a babysitter so her baby doesn’t rely so heavily on her. You know?”

“Perhaps.” Cassie shrugged as she shoved her hands in the back pockets of her designer jeans.

That was a classic Cassie move. She was worried and fighting to make sense of whatever she was worrying over.

She turned to Mica again, her delicate, pretty face pulled into a confused expression. “Do you ever feel as though the world is simply spiraling out of your control?”

There was a hint of fear in her friend’s voice now, a haunted quality to her gaze that worried Mica. But, despite the worry, Mica couldn’t help but see the irony in her friend’s question.

Mica’s brows arched at the question. “Cassie, you are my best friend,” she stated with knowing emphasis. “I’m normally completely surrounded by Breeds and their hectic, dangerous lives. I’m at your beck and call at any time, whenever you need me, and often harassed by reporters anytime I’m in public. Do you think my world ever feels as though it’s already spiraled, crashed, burned and drifted into the far corners of the earth?”

It was the truth, though Mica often found it more amusing than anything else. She’d learned early to take the Breeds, their arrogance and often calculating, manipulative personalities, with a grain of salt. She was stuck with them, plain and simple, so she may as well make the best of it.

The journalists were harder to deal with, and she thanked God daily that she had found a job with the National Journal , owned by the family of Merinus Tyler Lyons, the mate of the Feline pride leader, Callan Lyons.

The National Journal was one of the few papers left still in hard copy, as well as on e-feed and satellite upload. It was also one of the few that didn’t attempt to “reveal” gossip against the Breeds as truth. Instead the paper reported and reminded the world of the hell the Breeds had endured.

Finally, Cassie’s lips twitched as Mica continued to stare back at her archly.

Then, she cleared her throat delicately. “Perhaps I’m asking the wrong person?” Thankfully, a hint of amusement gleamed in her unusual eyes.

“I’d guess you are.” Mica rolled her eyes, silently thankful that the tears had disappeared from Cassie’s gaze.

She couldn’t stand to see her friend cry. It rarely happened, but when it did, it destroyed those who loved her. And Mica did love her. Cassie was her best friend, her sister, her confidante and, sometimes, her partner in crime. Those crimes were few and far between these days.

They’d become women together, and Mica couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather have as a friend. She also couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather have watching her back than Cassie. The other girl was small, delicate, but the Breeds had taught her, and Mica also, some of the most advanced forms of martial arts.

They had met when Cassie’s stepfather, Dash Sinclair, had returned home from war to search for the little girl who had been his pen pal and her mother, both of whom supposedly had been killed in an apartment explosion.

Cassie and her mother, Elizabeth, had not been dead though. They had been running, fighting to survive and to escape the drug kingpin who had bought Cassie from her father. The father who had conspired with a Council scientist for money and had allowed his wife’s eggs to be used to create a unique, highly specialized Breed. A Wolf-Coyote mix. The scientist had hoped the hybrid genetics would create the killer the Genetics Council sought and hadn’t yet been able to reliably produce. And he’d wanted to further the experiment by having that child raised rather than trained, to see how reliable those killer genes would be.