Page 22
Story: Of Glass and of Gold
“Well, less of a source, and more of Efemena’s brother drunkenly wandering the streets after celebrating his birthday.” He chuckled. “Just coincidence, really. He hasn’t been the same since what he saw, hasn’t left his bed in days. He carries a burden for the man who lay dead, though he didn’t have the means to help anyway. He heard an argument break out afterward, a disagreement about whatever they were doing. It was what he heard, clear as day, cutting right through the sound of waves crashing that haunts him the most. ‘They’re no good to us if they’re dead’. Human life should be more sacred than that."
A ghost wind skated over my skin, causing it to pebble, even against my overexerted body. “What do you think they meant by that? What did they want him for?”
Odion’s eyebrows shot upward. “Don’t know.”
Great, more criminal activity littering our streets, exactly what this town needed.
“Now, those three stances I requested.” Odion folded his arms over one another, resuming his role as hard-ass trainer, looking down at me across the outdoor ring.
“And why can’t I leave here on a victory high note again?” I quipped.
“While I don’t think you’re foolish enough to be out, maybe I also want a guarantee that you’ll be too tired to even try.” A roguish grin spread over his face.
“Odion! Come help me with these hellish children of yours.” Efemena, my saving angel.
Both our heads snapped to the gorgeous woman standing at the front door of their small cabin home, a hand on her hip holding a rag. Her big brown eyes sparkled at a distance, even under overcast. A scarf wrapped her voluminous hair, but perfect spiral curls still peeked all around.
“Hi, Nora dear,” she said. “You think you can be done with him for the day? There are quite a few dishes that need doing.”
“Gladly!” I said all too quickly, turning back to Odion with a victorious smile on my face. “Aw, what a shame for me.” My attempt at chewing my smile failed.
“Are you two conspiring against me?” He scrubbed his jaw but didn’t waste any time returning home.
“No conspiracies, just good old fashion luck.” I clapped his shoulder as his big, brooding frame sauntered past.
I stopped at the water barrel and wiped myself down as best I could before grabbing my cloak and satchel. Before he reached his door, he called over his shoulder, “And bring both your blades next time.”
I swallowed. Letting Odion know why I lost it wasn’t a conversation I planned on having. Ever.
I became one with the shadows, stalking the streets as if I was forged from the night itself. Fluid and precise, each step was carefully calculated and executed. The sea air filled my lungs and the tang of salt coated my tongue the closer I got to the docks.
I’d only passed a couple villagers on my way here, men either staggering from too much drink or lighting a smoke against a building. I was invisible to them, keeping tight to walls and ducking into the exposed shops like Odion’s. Random objects, such as barrels and work benches, helped keep my cover.
I reached the last shop on the stretch, only open and exposed to the bank descending to the shoreline ahead. As my eyes scanned the length of the docks, the only movement I detected was the continual ebb and flow of the midnight waves pressing a kiss to the sand before slinking away again. Moonlight reflected off the gentle water, barely a breeze in the air. The twinkling glisten painted a picture of serenity, and for a moment I got lost in the calm. These peaceful moments served as a reminder that there were still good things in this world, that my mother was right.
I couldn’t remember thinking of anything specific when a barely audible rustle occurred behind me. Before I could react, a foot hooked the front of my ankle, and hands pinned my arms in place.
“Lovely to see you again, Miss?”
I recognized that ashy voice purring in my ear.
“Come to have your ass handed to you twice, huh?” I ground out the words, trying to muster the strength to break his hold—but to no avail.
Only a touch of warmth grazed my hood-covered ear as he gave a raspy, low, rumbling laugh that permeated from his chest into my back. “If you want your hands on my ass, all you have to do is ask.”
The scoff I released rattled my throat, but it only made him laugh again. He kept his voice quiet, and I was glad not to tip off any other potential foes to us being here. Though, I wasn’t a fan of being pinned in the dark with a stranger who now graced the locations of two crimes. That reality steadily settled in my mind like concrete, allowing me to plant my feet on something sturdy while I devised a game plan.
“You plan on killing me like you did your friend?” Time. I needed time. My eyes wildly swept the immediate area, looking for anything I could use to my advantage. The stall had hidden away its supplies, fishing nets and gear taken from the walls and stands, put under lock and key for the night, leaving me few options.
I searched my memory for the layout behind me. He couldn’t have been more than two feet away from a now empty table. If I could force him back…
“You think I—”
I’d already decided. I arched my ass back, not that there was much to it with my slender frame, but I didn’t need much. His hooked foot pulled back on my ankle, trying to keep balance. My other foot dug into the ground and I pushed back, then we were both stumbling backward. I jostled in his arms as he rammed into the table behind him, and the moment he tried stabilizing, I freed my foot from him and let my body drop.
He didn’t let go, which forced him to hunch while he fell with me. I had one move to gain the upper hand, one chance to use his imbalance against him. I threw out my leg to the side, and with fierce speed and precision, swiped outward and back. I hit my target, making his steadiness falter. The moment pain splintered from impact against his ankle, I lunged forward.
With no choice but to relent, he let go, landing with his palms flat on the ground. In the time it took him to recover, I faced him with my single unsheathed dagger, and aimed my heel at his rising stature, striking his shoulder. He lost his footing, falling to his ass, narrowly missing his head colliding with the table.
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