She's not there [Micah]

[Rion]

She’d always been comfortable with the dead.

There was no rhyme or reason for it, despite the handful of doctors trying to diagnose her with one mental illness after the other. No one could understand how the silence spoke louder to her than any words could. They didn’t understand how pale, cold skin was a canvas that held so many memories. They would all give her strange looks when she would intimately run her fingertips down the smooth column of a murdered victim’s neck – it was the same look they were giving her now. It was disgust mixed with admiration and concern. With a quiet sigh, she ignored the stares and tilted her head.

“She wasn’t murdered.”
“Excuse me? She was found with her throat slit. Are you blind, Ms. Hale?”
“Dr. Hale, and no. I can see perfectly well, unlike you. The wound was post mortem. Not that I get paid to do your job, but you might want to take a look at the father. I haven’t been here long, but even I know how Mr. Jameson is against suicide, and that’s what this is. He probably tried to cover it up.”

She could only speculate, of course, but her track record for being right was a country mile wide. Wiping her brow with the back of her hand, she turned her piercing blue eyes to the nearest EMT. “Load her up and take her back to my office. I can get a better look there.” Though she was soft spoken, the man seemed to jump to attention and do exactly as she wished. The people here were so… strange. As she removed her gloves, she let her gaze move from each person, until they finally landed on the man in charge. “My boss told me I was here for serial murders, not suicides. When you find me a body with its throat ripped out, give me a call. Until then, don’t bother me.”

Tossing her gloves into the trash bag at her side, Rion shrugged from her lab coat and headed for her car. It was ******* cold as hell, and they had her out in the middle of the night on some case that could solve itself. She knew what they were doing, of course. They were trying to run her out of town. Some for her own protection, others because they didn’t want someone impeding on their cases. Whatever the reason for it was, she wasn’t going anywhere. She’d been following the headlines on the Harper Rock serial killings from day one. The strange disappearances and the cover up of animal attacks (because everyone knew that instead of ripping the meat from the bones, the animals liked to suck them dry instead).

It had quickly become an obsession, and one she wasn’t about to let go of. If they weren’t going to let her in herself, she’d have to find a way to do her own investigation. It wouldn’t be difficult, of course. From what she had found, there were a few morgues around. She’d just have to pick one and get in. “Which one?” She muttered under her breath, her pale fingers tapping against the steering wheel. Leaning over, she pounded on the glove compartment until it swung open, a few papers falling out. Grabbing the map that had tried to tumble to the ground, she shook it open with one hand while she kept the car going straight with the other. After a few seconds, she found what she was looking for. A morgue was only a block away from her, and if memory served her correctly, someone had told her this was the one she needed to go to. With a cruel curl of her lips, she gave a jerk of the wheel to make the turn at the last second. This was going to be a good night.

It wasn’t every day that a medical examiner had to break into a morgue, though there were a few times that she had to break out. No, this was a first for her, but what choice did she have? When the front door wouldn’t open for her, she’d gotten upset. She wasn’t below vandalism, but when the dead was resting peacefully inside, she didn’t want to disturb them. So, she’d tried to find another entrance. Back home, her morgue was attached to a tunnel system, where they would cart some of the more ‘prestigious’ bodies back and forth. Bending down, she squinted at the sewer’s door and pressed her lips together in a thin line. How bad did she want answers? How bad did she really want to give these victims their final peace? “Only for you,” she whispered under her breath as she heaved the cover off.

The smell was better than she expected it to be, which was a relief. Tucking the flashlight between her teeth, the small women lowered herself in and landed in a clumsy crouch on the ground. Even with the light, she could hardly see two feet in front of her, but she’d manage. She wasn’t exactly afraid of the dark like most people would be. Even with the stories circling this tiny town, she found herself turning down one of the sewer’s tunnels without a second though. She had nothing to defend herself with, nothing to protect herself with. She practically wore a sign that said ‘Hey, over here! Come kill me!’

“Your intelligence astounds me, Rion,” she muttered to herself while her fingers ran along the damp walls. She knew exactly what she was searching for, so there was no shock when her touch dipped into a crevice. Holding her palm flat against the surface, she smiled with triumph when she felt a small burst of air come from within. Placing the flashlight back into her mouth, she dropped her hands to the handle and gave a rough pull. She didn’t have a lot of strength, but when the door budged easily with a groan, she was impressed. Either they used this entrance a lot, or working out had really paid off.

Using the light to guide her, she slipped inside the door and nodded. She was exactly where she needed to be. Every morgue was the same to her. They might have a different layout, but she knew where to go and how to get there. It didn't take her long to get to the bodies, all neatly lined up in a row. This was what she had come here for, this was what she was good at. Finding peace for the victims that had no choice in their fate. Keeping the light balanced in her mouth, Rion pulled her hair up into a tight pony tail, a shock of blue curls falling into her eyes as she bent over the first body. Carefully, she pulled back the zipper and held her breath. When the bag fell away to reveal the man inside, his skin white and almost like stone to touch, she knew rigormortis had long since set in. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted - and his throat was ripped out. They had claimed another animal attack, but an animal wouldn't have done this. There would have been other marks - claws where the animal pinned him down, or more teeth marks along his throat.

No, this wasn't an animal.
So what the hell was it?

[Micah]

The sewers never changed. Always the same dark, dank twisting corridors, and always the same enemies. This night though, Micah bypassed the soldiers, only disposing of the ones that noticed him and tried to attack. Paladins were what he was looking for in search of their blood for the scavenger hunt that Nishaa was hosting for the faction. Almost two weeks and he had yet to find a vial of the stuff, but he didn’t let that deter him. Sooner or later he’d get lucky, or at least he hoped so because he was so far past the point of frustration it wasn’t even funny. And an irritated, frustrated Micah wasn’t a very good thing for everyone involved.

He moved through the tunnels with a practiced ease that came from constant trips through the sewers. It was quiet as it usually was that time of night. He was only able to hear the occasional squeak from a rat and the ever present dripping of water as it fell from the ceiling to hit the ground. Micah didn’t see the paladin, at least not at first, not until she jumped from the shadows and ripped into his arm with her dagger like nails. A mere scratch but it was enough to piss him off. “*****,” he hissed at her, drawing both his gun and his blade as he prepared to do battle.

The quiet in the sewer was shattered as gunfire exploded around him and the paladin. She was quick, but he was quicker. Pivoting on his heel he neatly avoided the bullets that sprayed in his direction aimed at his head. Desperation was driving her, he could see it written all over her face when she realized she was outmatched but she didn’t let that stop her from taking a final shot at him. Her aim was true and the bullets that she had fired in his direction caught him in the stomach. The force from the impact knocked him back a few steps and a quiet grunt escaped from him when the pain exploded in his abdomen and spread throughout his body. A red haze descended over his vision as he brought his gun up, stared her down and fired a single shot that hit the paladin in the forehead. She crumpled to the ground, dead and he attempted to salvage some of her blood but there was nothing left.

“Stupid *****,” he muttered and nudged at the dead body with the toe of his boot as if that would make her give up the blood. Of course it didn’t. It was then that he became aware of the blood that stained the front of his shirt, and the bullets that were lodged in his flesh. Those would need to come out before they healed over. A glance at his surroundings told him that he was in the alcove that housed the sewer entrance to the Realm where fight nights were held. Stepping into the blackness he felt along the wall until he found the switch to slide the panel back. The scent of stale blood assaulted his senses but he paid that no mind and he searched behind the bar for the first aid kit. To his dismay it was empty - no tweezers, no gauze, just a box of Hello Kitty bandaids that he liked to slap on the females just to be a smart ***. “****.” That meant he had to go upstairs. To the morgue.

The morgue was the one place that he avoided like the plague. Everyone knew it. If an event was held in the Realm Micah was either summoned in by his wife or he entered through the sewers like he had done a few minutes prior. Surprisingly no one got a kick out of it. Maybe they knew better, and no one ever questioned it. Those that mattered knew his reasons and that was enough for him. So he summoned every ounce of willpower he had and took the elevator upstairs. As soon as the heavy steel doors slid open he was hit with the familiar crippling fear that froze him in his tracks. The smell assaulted his senses and he was taken back to that night all those years ago, back to that hospital room where he’d lost his mother. Death. It was all around him. He could smell it and his skin crawled as that scent latched on to him and refused to dissipate. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t do it. Just as he was about to pull his tome out and return to the Eyrie he noticed a thin beam of light coming from one of the rooms where the bodies were stored. “What in the actual ****?”

No one should be in the morgue at that time of night. And only Vel had a key to it for after hours. Not wanting to disturb her for something that might be trivial he pushed past the fear and crept towards the light, the wounds he’d gotten from the paladin all but forgotten the closer he got. When he got to the room he found something rather unexpected. A human was inspecting one of the dead bodies. A human that had no place in the morgue at this time of night, and she sure as **** wasn’t employed by his wife so who the **** was she. His hand slid along the wall and found the light switch. Flipping it on the room was flooded with a pale glow and his gaze zeroed in on the human female. “Who the **** are you and what the **** do you think you’re doing?”

[Rion]

“What happened to you?”

Her words were spoken in no more than a breathless whisper, yet they seemed to echo off the walls and fill the silence like thunder. For a brief second, she hesitated in her touch, fingertips pausing over the man’s throat. Her eyes were wide as they danced over his face, carefully making sure that he hadn’t woken due to her disturbance. With bated breath, she relaxed when he remained as still as stone. He was so young, so handsome, and even with his skin ripped in two. “You had your whole life ahead of you,” she sighed, teeth nibbling on her lower lip. By the looks of his hands, he’d never known strenuous work. They were smooth, the hands of a writer, maybe a doctor.

The youth in his features showed he was probably no older than her. College student? It was plausible. From the soft texture of his skin and his lithe frame, she would bet he was leaning towards something without a lot of physical activity. “It would explain the lack of defensive wounds.” Of course, an attack from behind would explain that as well. Had the killer given him any warning? Was there any way he could have fought back? With a frown, Rion pressed her hand lightly to the center of his chest and closed her eyes. If she could, she’d will him back to life, just to hear his story.

Someone needed to know his story.

Brushing her fingers up his chest, she followed the smooth skin with the caress akin to a lover. She didn’t believe in being cold and distant like most examiners. It didn’t matter that her patient was dead, they still had lived, and they fascinated her. When her fingers found the beginning ridge of the wound, she let them dip inside, feeling the context of the ripped skin. After a second, she narrowed her eyes and re-traced the path she had just taken. It was too smooth, too precise to be an animal kill. Unless the beast had come at him with a knife and a fork, this man wasn’t attacked by any known creature. Opening her eyes, she bent further over the corpse and carefully opened the wound a bit more. The body made a crack of protest, the sound sending a tremble down her spine.

That was another thing to death. The body was at her disposal, and she could do whatever she wanted with it. She had always been fascinated by the serial killers that would frame their victims. They had brought life back to the dead—no, she was getting distracted. Gritting her teeth, she blew out a breath of air, the warmth dancing over his skin and pushing a blue curl from her eyes. Squinting, the woman tilted her head as she let her fingertip brush along the ridge once more. It wasn’t as smooth as she originally thought, and when she leaned further in, her nose nearly touching his chest, she saw why.

The indention were those of teeth, but not animalistic. Behind the indescribable marks were the perfect indentions of human teeth. It was if someone had tried to eat him. Cannibalism could explain a lot of the strange actions that were happening in Harper Rock, but something told her there was more to it than that. If it was an act of cannibalism, there would be flesh missing from the bones. No, he was just missing blood. When the lights flooded the room and the voice rung out, she simply – and blantantly – ignored him. It didn’t matter that she was in someone else’s morgue and that he was probably the owner. It didn’t matter that she was breaking so many laws. All that mattered was the man on the steel, cold table in front of her. The marks had opened more questions than answers. What would have done this? What human COULD had done this?

Straightening back up, she brushed her hand over her forehead and frowned. “What trouble did you find yourself in, handsome?” Slowly, she covered the bag back over the man and pulled the zipper up until he was concealed once again. Only when the zipper wouldn’t go any further, did she turn her gaze to the man in the doorway. Raising a brow, she crossed her arms over her chest and kept her stare locked on him. She didn’t fear much, and she really wasn’t afraid of the man in front of her. He was large, intimidating, but he wasn’t frightening. Perhaps it had something to do with the blood dripping from his stomach.

“The better question is, how the hell are you still walking?”

[Micah]

She ignored him.

She. Ignored. Him. Micah wasn’t sure if he should be amused or livid. He was going to go with livid however mostly because the panic he had felt the second the elevator doors slid open had returned with a vengeance. It was threatening to overtake him, he could feel it as it tried to claw it’s way through his body and escape in any way that it could. Had breathing been possible he would have been gasping for air. His fingers clutched at the door frame as his eyes squeezed closed in an attempt to block out the icy fingers of crippling fear that had dug its claws in and refused to let go.

This was a stupid idea. He should have called Vel as soon as he noticed the light. He should never had attempted to find the source on his own. Fear had a firm grasp on him now and rational thought was slowly leaving him and he worried that he wouldn’t be able to hold it together long enough to handle the situation at hand. In a last ditch effort to remain grounded he dug in deep and latched onto the small sliver of anger that he could still feel buried beneath the panic. Concentrating on that he allowed the panic to fuel it. It started out as a tiny spark that grew into a slow burn. It warmed him from the inside out and in a few seconds he found enough clarity to turn his attention to her. The intruder.

Said intruder was currently ignoring him and speaking to the corpse she’d decided to inspect. Just one more thing to set him on edge as it was most likely another one of those so called animal attacks. Micah knew it wasn’t. It was a careless vampire and if she kept on snooping in places that she had no business snooping in she was going to uncover something that she didn’t need to know about.

As he stood there and watched, his sharp gaze immediately took in the way her fingers pressed against the neck of the corpse. In that instant Micah knew that she’d found something and in doing so she had sealed her fate. There wasn’t a chance in hell that she was getting out of that morgue alive. He wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t. What had she discovered from inspecting the neck of a dead body? It was entirely possible that she hadn’t found anything but his gut was telling him that she had. And that was why she wouldn't be getting away from him.


Glancing down he noticed that the already dark material of his shirt was darker in places and there were the obvious tears that came from having been shot in the gut. He cursed. No human would be able to stand after getting shot like that, and of course she noticed that. “Don’t think you’re in any position t’be question’ me on anythin’.” His hand brushed over the front of his shirt as if he could erase the evidence that he’d been shot. “Belive I asked you somethin first. What the **** are you doing here, and who the **** are ya?”

[Rion]

It didn’t take intelligence to see how her ignoring had affected the man.

As he stood in the doorway – no, filled the doorway - he practically oozed aggression and dominance from his pores. It set her teeth on edge, but she kept herself completely still as she rested her *** against the table. The corpse’s feet pressed against her lower back, bringing a sense of familiar comfort to her and giving her the leverage she needed to focus on the task at hand. She was more comfortable dealing with the dead. They couldn’t look at her like he was, they couldn’t talk back to her like he had done. They were silent, their stories hidden for her to figure out. They were a puzzle with so many missing pieces it would be close to impossible for anyone to put together. She always managed, but when she faced with a living human, her mind almost always drew a blank.

Come on, Rion. You can’t let him see you sweat.

The only way to pretend he was dead was to continue to ignore him. She knew in the back of her mind it was probably one of the more stupid things she could do considering his reaction, but she found herself not caring. In fact, she didn’t think she cared about much in that moment. She was tired and hungry and she still had an entire week’s worth of paperwork to finish. Not to mention she’d been feeling on edge since she’d woken up that morning. She could feel the depression as it weaved its way into her mind and heart, the shadows seeming to weigh down inside of her. Dipping her hand into the pocket of her lab coat, she curled her fingers around the tiny orange bottle and sighed. She could be home with a bottle of wine and enough pills to numb everything inside of her. Yet, instead of being in her cramped hotel room with no television and no windows, she was standing in the morgue while getting stared down by a Rock star Caveman.

Wonderful.

Tracing her tongue over her lower lip, she let her gaze move from his eyes, to his chest, stomach, legs and feet. It wasn’t a look of lust, nor did her gaze linger. The doctor in her was sizing him up. What was keeping him on his feet? He shouldn’t be standing, let alone glowering and growling at her like a rabid pit bull. Realizing she’d ignored him (again) for long enough, she finally released a breath and lifted her sharp gaze back to his. Intelligence and suspicion danced in her eyes, an armor she had always worn well. It had protected her in the past, but she had no idea it’d be her downfall now. “I think you’re mistaken considering you’re the one that’s been turned into Swiss cheese,” she replied, her tone distant and tired. “If you must know, I’m Dr. Rion Hale. I was called in by your local police department to investigate the murders that are going on in your neighborhood.”

It was more information than he deserved, but what choice did she have? He was blocking the only known exit, unless she chose to turn into Cat-Woman and climb through the vents in the ceiling. She was small and nimble, but she wasn’t a damned contortionist. Her calculated gaze dropped back to the wounds in his stomach, mind working to cram the puzzle pieces into place. The torn marks on each victims throat, the loss of blood and the fact the man in front of him had been shot enough times to be rendered useless all seemed to find their way into perfect position. Slowly, she lifted her gaze back to his and gave a quiet smirk.

“Now you can answer a question for me.”

Removing her gloves, she dropped them into the trash and let the uncomfortable silence drift between them.

“How long have you been letting vampires run rampant in Harper Rock?”

[Micah]

He could only rely on the anger to keep the panic down for so long and already he could feel those icy cold fingers start to creep back in and try to wrestle control. They were succeeding. He couldn’t lose it now. Not until this was taken care of one way or another. Think Micah, THINK! Hold it together for just a while longer. You can do this. But he didn’t think he was going to be able to. That fear….it was overpowering and at it’s peak it could bring him to his knees. He was only standing now because he’d had the anger to focus on. And that was leaving him at the worst possible time.

However, she was giving him the perfect opportunity to allow the anger to rekindle, just by ignoring him. Micah hated being ignored more than anything. He silently thanked her as he allowed the anger to build once more and regain control. The panic was pushed down once more. Thank **** for that. Really. If she managed to get out of that room with her life intact then he just might thank her. But he knew that it wasn’t going to happen.

He grew uncomfortable underneath the weight of her stare and it was on the tip of his tongue to ask her what the **** was so fascinating but he didn’t. Shifting in place he winced as the motion pulled at the already healing wounds that decorated his stomach. Damn her. Why the **** did she have to decide to commit a crime the ONE night he needed to go to the morgue? It was karma. ******* karma, playing it’s evil mind games with him.

“Ain’t mistaken. My wife owns this morgue so I’m well within my rights to be question any stupid ***** that decides to make an unauthorized visit to a place that they don’t have the right t’be.” A smirk had his lips turning upwards. “Dr. Hale eh? Too bad that you didn’t use that intelligence to stay the **** out of somethin that is only gonna bring you trouble. I don’t much care for the local law enforcement, so that still doesn’t give you the right to be here.” If she had had permission Vel would have mentioned it. Something like the local police calling in outside help for something that would need access to the morgue wasn’t something small and it would definitely be worth mentioning.

The way she looked at him, and the way she said her next words had the hair on the back of his neck standing up. His instincts were on high alert and they were screaming that the situation had just taken a turn for the worse. Over the years he’d learned to listen to those instincts and as her question hung heavy in the air between them Micah knew that he had been correct in his assumption that **** just got real. Instantly he shut down and locked all of his emotions up tight. he face became a mask of impassive granite, refusing to give anything away. “Ain’t no such thing as vampires. Think you’ve been watchin too much TV darlin.” He knew the answer wouldn’t satisfy her. She was far too intelligent and would most likely see right through him. He just hoped she died fast, because die she would - once he got everything he needed to know.

[Rion]

Rion took another moment to let her gaze wander over the man. There was strength and dominance in every move he made, but there was also something more. Panic? Fear? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. His eyes were a little too wide, his skin too pale. He couldn't be afraid of her, of course, so there had to be something else. Something more she could use to her advantage when and if things got too far out of her control. Of course, the stressed look could also be from the fact he had become a pincushion before stumbling into the morgue. Whatever the reasoning was, she was going to find out. Her calculating gaze missed nothing as she continued to watch him, so when the flare of anger bounced back into his eyes, she was more than ready for it. Tilting her head to the side, she simply gave a bored sigh and shook her head.

Stupid *****.

The insult caused her fingers to twitch and bend so that her blue painted nails could dig into her bicep. Stupid *****, stupid *****. Even though she knew it was just an insult that meant nothing, she couldn’t stop the words from twisting inside of her mind. The two words were no longer spoken in his voice, but in her fathers and Abraham’s. She could hear them with clarity, picture Abraham’s smug smile and her father’s crooked nose. It was that charming insult that had her father and ex-fiancé bonding together. They used it every chance they had, and it had always worked. She’d never really understood why, either. She knew she was intelligent, yet to have it undermined was a blow that she couldn’t seem to ever look past. Even now, facing down what she was certain was a vampire, she wanted to punch him. Taking a deep breath, she held the air in her lungs until the uncomfortable pain was too much to handle.

****, Rion. You got it bad. Calm the hell down.

“I’m going to chalk up your childish insults to the fact you were just used as target practice.” She didn’t bother to reply to his statement about this local police. He didn’t look like a moron, so she knew he understood she was there without permission. Besides, he had eased any worry she might have had when he said he didn’t care for the local PD. She couldn’t blame him, either. It was run by a moron and had nothing but untrained monkeys in uniform to boss around. She didn’t exactly feel protected by them herself. With a tired roll of her eyes as he continued to speak, her weight shifted from one foot to the other. Of course he was going to try and convince her she was out of her mind. Who wouldn’t in his position? If he thought it was going to be as simple as that, he was mistaken. She wasn’t a cheerleader who couldn’t walk and talk at the same time. When it came to her work, she was like a dog with a bone – especially when all the pieces were fitting snugly into place.

“Please, don’t try to battle my intelligence. I’ve been following these stories for months. This isn’t your first victim with his throat ripped out and his blood drained. If that wasn’t enough to convince me, the fact that you’re standing in front of me with bullet holes in your stomach and barely even flinching... well, what’s the saying? That’s the icing on the cake?” Laughing quietly, she let her hands drop to her sides, thumbs hooking in the belt-loops of her black leather pants as she casually leaned back against the table. To her, it didn’t matter that the man looked to be at his end with her. She was as casual and relaxed as the first moment she’d walked into the room. He wasn’t a threat to her. He was just another piece that needed to find its place. With a smile, she blew a sapphire curl from her eyes and arched her brow. “You’re no Edward Cullen, so I’m sure you won’t start sparkling like a thousand diamonds, but you’re not human. So, I’ll ask you again. How long have you had vampires in Harper Rock?”

[Micah]

Micah hated the way she looked at him. Quietly assessing him, like she was looking for weaknesses. He was grateful for the dark lenses that covered his eyes. They were an added layer of protection, one that she wouldn’t be able to penetrate no matter how hard she looked. Thankfully his face was completely blank and gave away nothing. She could try, but there wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to get anything out of him before she died. Actually he’d really enjoy it if she DID try. He was bored and in need of a challenge, and while she might be just a disposable human she was intelligent enough to offer him one.

To the human eye the twitch of her fingers wouldn’t even register but he caught it. Saw the way those blue nails bit into the tender flesh of her arms and filed that little tidbit of information away for future use, if he had to. The way that she looked at him had changed his previous feelings of discomfort to downright annoyance. Maybe he should ask her to take a picture, but knowing his luck she would try and then he’d have to kill her just for attempting such a thing. And then she drew in a breath and he knew that he’d hit a nerve. The smirk turned into a wicked grin. One of those ones that his wife always said spelled trouble.

“Childish insults? You sure you’re a chick? Cause there ain’t that many people who would have the balls to call me childish.” The target practice comment was brushed off for now. But if she continued to harp on that he’d have to deal with it. Micah took a step into the room and froze in his tracks as the smell hit him in the face. It was stronger in there and he couldn’t stop the shiver that wracked his frame as the fear reappeared with a vengeance and seized him in a vice like grip. Even though he didn’t need to breath he found himself pulling in great gasps of air in an attempt to calm himself. It wasn’t working and he realized that he had managed to work himself into a full fledged panic attack. What that even possible for vampires?

He knew she was speaking to him but it was like her words were encased in a fog that made every word she spoke sound muddled. He was falling apart, letting the paralyzing fear win at the absolute worst possible time. Get a grip asshole! What he needed was something to focus on, some kind of memory or emotion that was strong enough to combat the fear. Squeezing his eyes shut he focused on Vel, on everything he felt for her, allowing her to be the one thing that grounded him even though she wasn’t there. She didn’t need to be. His wife was so ingrained in him that it was as if they were actually two parts of a whole. And that alone was enough to snap him out of it.

The sound of her laughter got his attention. She thought this whole thing was funny did she? Tsk. This Dr. Hale wasn’t going to be laughing for too much longer. It was quite obvious that she knew what he was so maybe the time for games was over. Another step closer and he smiled, and it wasn’t a nice smile either. His fangs caught the low light of the room making them stand out boldly. This woman had no idea how much danger she was in. “You know that saying? Curiosity killed the cat?” Another step closer, and another until he standing directly in front of her, so close that just the slightest movement from her would have her touching him. “You’re gonna wish you ignored those stories darlin. Cause now? You walked into somethin that there is no escape for.” The other questions were ignored. They just didn’t matter.

[Rion]

“My, I’ve gotten under your skin, haven’t I? Clearly I’ve done something to rattle you if you’re pulling the gender insults from your ***.”

Even as she said the words, she watched him. Just as she had crawled her way beneath his pale flesh, he had made himself at home in her veins. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling. Each twitch of his fingers or strain of the tendons in his neck had her spine straightening, body reacting in a way only a victim would. The thought set her on edge, teeth clamping together as her eyes narrowed as he stepped forward. No, it wasn’t a step. He practically lurched forward, as if torn between running out the door and the burning need to rid himself of her. To someone else, it would have been a subtle movement, but to the mouse watching the rather large cat, she couldn’t miss the way his body appeared to tear through the air as if it was foam trying to keep him in place.

Interesting.

“Perhaps you are simply surrounding yourself with the wrong type of women. I prefer the strong, independent, silent types to those that have a desperate need for daddy’s approval.” Lifting a shoulder in a shrug, she took a breath to steady her voice, allowing an air of serenity to encase her as she let her gaze drop from his face to the wound in his stomach. It didn’t matter that he was a threat to her. The training in her still wanted to mend the bullet wounds before infection set in. She wanted to help this temperamental golem. Shaking her head, she dropped her hand from her arm and scraped her nails through her hair, the unkempt blue and raven’s black tresses falling in disarray around her pale face. “I only call it as I see it, and the way you are reaching for something to break me with is immature. We are both adults here, are we not? There is no need to lash out.”

Was she lecturing him?

God, she must really have a death wish. It was how her mind reacted. When she was pinned to a corner, she couldn’t seem to stop the words from flowing past her trembling lips. There was no filter when she found herself in precarious positions. Her father had always warned her it was going to be the death of her and she had laughed it off. Now, she could practically imagine the look in his eyes and the expression he wore when he found out he was right. No, she couldn’t allow that to happen, even if it were the case. She was a logical, intelligent human being. She knew when she’d backed herself against a wall with no means of escape. This was one of those times. There was a look in his eyes, one that burned straight through her and gripped her heart in a titan’s grasp. He wasn’t just angry with her. He was like a caged animal, reacting as if the very walls that kept her from the outside world were his coffin. His eyes were too wide, too frantic. When he stalked towards her, she was once again reminded of him pushing through foam, every step causing him to lose himself even more.

However, as soon as the thought entered her mind, as soon as she had curled her fingers around the knowledge that she might have something over him, he snapped out of it. It was like a switch had flipped and the panic had completely evaporated. What had caused something so drastic? This was a man that was balancing on a tight rope and about to fall, and now he was entirely balanced. She parted her lips and took the breath to ask the question, to demand to know what could have possibly saved him from the edge when the light reflected on the white gleam beneath his snarled lip. In that second, three thoughts entered her mind.

First - she was right.
Second - holy ****, she was right.
Third – I’m going to die.

As the final thought settled in her mind, she closed her eyes. She didn’t need to see to know how close he was to her. His mere presence caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. What could she do in that moment? She was sure she could reason with him, tell him she wouldn’t spread a word of this, but she knew it was a lie and it’d only be a matter of time before he found her. Beg for her life? She destroyed that thought the moment it formed. She was no weak minded *****.

No, she knew exactly what she was going to do.

Allowing the thought of her impending death to wrap around her like a cocoon, she dropped her hand back against the counter behind her. He might have gotten a grip on his fear for just a second, but it hadn’t taken her long to single out what had caused that terror that gripped him moments before. She just had to time it exactly right. “I don’t regret my curiosity,” she whispered, her voice oddly steady as she opened her eyes, blue gaze staring into his without so much of a flicker of terror.

Steeling herself for what was to come, she gave him a half-hearted smile.

“My knowledge is something I will never regret. I have the answers I came for. If I thought it would have been easy, it wouldn’t have been worth it.” Releasing that breath she’d been holding, she knocked her hand back, the jar of antiseptic falling to the ground and the sound of shattering glass filling the silence of the room. As the strong scent wafted up from the mess, she grabbed the scalpel that had been sitting beside it and twisted it, slamming it into his jugular before ducking beneath his arm and diving for the door. She knew it wouldn’t kill him – she merely prayed it slowed him down enough for her to make her escape.

[Micah]

Intimidation had always been one of his strong points. To humans all it usually took was one glance and they were always more than happy to turn and go the other way. It wasn’t something that he ever really did intentionally but he had used it to his advantage more than once. This one though...she wasn’t all that intimidated. And if she was she sure was hiding it well if her sarcastic remarks and her lecturing were anything to go by. Micah was slightly amused. No one had ever lectured him before, not that he would ever tell her that.

He should have never let his guard down. While he was stronger and faster, and had the obvious advantage over her the one thing he should have never done was taken her intelligence for granted. In his attempt at locking his emotions away to keep the paralyzing panic at bay he slipped and let some of that panic show. Someone who didn’t possess the amount of intelligence that this blue haired troublemaker did would have never noticed it. But this one - she was at the top of her game. She noticed the fear. And she used it against him.

His mouth opened and he had a blistering retort all ready to go, having every intention to ridicule her and lecture her right back about how curiosity killed the cat and all that jazz but he never got the chance to let it fly. The sound of glass shattering as it hit the floor was loud to his ears but the sound was soon forgotten as the smell hit him full force in the face, invading his senses and causing his feet to freeze to the floor as the panic hit him with the force of a speeding freight train. His chest heaved and he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t think, and he sure as hell couldn’t stop the barrage of memories that overtook him.

She was out of time. He could read it on the faces of every single doctor and nurse that came into her room. They’d give him this sad, sympathetic smile and he would glare at them all. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell them all to **** off, but even if she wasn’t awake it still wasn’t respectful to talk to them that way. It wasn’t their fault. They’d all done their best but their best wasn’t good enough and he was losing her anyways.

The beeping was getting on his nerves. And the smell. That was the other thing. It was the stench of death. It clung to every available surface and when he left to go home it stuck to his skin. It seemed like no matter how many showers he took, how many times he changed his clothes he would never be able to get rid of that smell.

Always that ******* beeping. And then it just….stopped. Turned into one single sound that seemed to stretch out endlessly. It hurt his ears and he wanted to smash the machine. Make it stop. That stupid ******* doctor didn’t need to tell him what he already knew. **** you, you worthless ********. Could have saved her, but he didn’t. The white sterile walls were closing in around him and he couldn’t breathe.

He was pulled out of the memories by a sharp pain in his neck and realized that the blue haired, nosy suicidal female had stabbed him. Micah felt the brush of her hair against his arm as she fled and for a brief instant he was torn between amused and furious. Adrenaline kicked in, enabling him to work past the fear. He let the rage fuel him. Reaching up he yanked the scalpel from his neck and dropped it to the floor with a clatter. There was no point in trying to stop the bleeding. The wound would heal on it’s on and she had enough of a head start. Turning on his heel he ran after her, allowing her scent to guide him to her.