Page 10
Story: Saint of the Shadows
8
Chemical Reactions
M arisol pulled Annie out of the car. “Wait twenty minutes,” she said to the empty driver’s seat.
“Your driver aims to please,” the computerized voice replied.
She hobbled inside, bolstering a barely conscious Annie. Safe in the apartment, Marisol flopped Annie onto her bed, leaving her in her evening gown. She helped take off her shoes, filled a glass of water, and set it and two capsules of ibuprofen on Annie’s nightstand.
She sat next to the bed and flipped open a gossip magazine she found. Marisol pored over an article about Vincent buying an overripe banana duct taped to a wall at an art auction for over a hundred grand. She twisted her face. The idiot in this article didn’t remotely resemble the man at the ball tonight .
Annie’s breath became steady and deep. She would make it through the night but hate her morning. Marisol put on her worn, oversized coat and headed outside to an empty street. She checked the time on her phone. She’d been twenty-two minutes. Artificially intelligent drivers were excruciatingly literal.
According to the app on her phone, a hired car would be awhile. She could make the walk four times while she waited. As long as she kept to the main street, she’d have an uneventful and brief walk home.
Outside, the streetlight flickered on and off again to her annoyance. Interludes of darkness quickened her pace. Her high heels clicked louder.
She toyed with her phone in the pocket of her coat. She should call Tobias. Maybe he’d invite her over, but she’d keep the dress on. If he saw her in it, he’d flip.
Even the next streetlight went light, dark, light, dark, light, dark.
A gangly man emerged from the shadows. His hood draped over his face and a handkerchief over his mouth. “Gimme the purse.”
She scoffed but handed over the tiny purse she used just for that night. It only held her lipstick and a twenty. The guy wasn’t going to make out with a lot.
“And your coat. ”
“This old thing?” Or actually the phone in her pocket?
“The coat!” He pointed at her with an object. The strobing streetlight reflected off the edge of a knife.
As if she were the artificial intelligence, she immediately unbuttoned her coat. The night’s cold grew sharp against her exposed skin, and in that dress, she exposed a lot of skin. Her coat felt like armor, and she would not lose her dignity any more than she already had. She unbuttoned the penultimate button and shifted her body weight lower and swung her right fist, landing a hook in the man’s jaw. As he reeled back, she started to run. Her delicate heels and hugging dress painfully reminded her they could not handle her typical gazelle-like strides.
She stopped to undo the strap of her heel. Bare feet might fare better on cold, uneven concrete. Before she freed the strap from the tiny buckle, she felt a strong tug at her coat and ripped herself free, thanks to those loose buttons. The coat flew behind her. Marisol didn’t enjoy a long enough of an escape before rough hands grabbed the back of her neck and squeezed the breath from her throat. Marisol gasped for oxygen. The man swung Marisol’s body into a brick wall of a building, slamming her head against the bricks.
She staggered back in pain and reached to touch her head. But something stabbed into her neck. She reflexively grabbed at the object. The mugger pulled at her abuelita’s necklace. With another yank, the strand broke. Her vision grew fuzzier and fuzzier. Blood trickled into her eyes. Her legs turned into jelly, and she hit the ground.
A dark blur jumped on top of the mugger.
“Are you okay?” the Patron Saint asked.
“I’m peachy.” She passed out to the sound of fists beating flesh.
She woke up with a pounding headache, so she touched the source of the pain, feeling a bandage. Someone had good first aid skills. She rubbed her neck. Her abuelita’s necklace was gone. Opening her eyes, she searched for something familiar. Her roving gaze confirmed she lay on a wrought-iron bench bolted to the roof of her apartment, and a blanket draped over her. A gust of cold wind pierced her, so she drew her blanket closely around her.
It wasn’t a blanket but a cape.
She jolted up. Sitting on the opposite side of the rooftop was the Patron Saint. He appeared like a floating jawline and a set of eyes. His body blended into the shadows, but his eyes glimmered blue. He was her Patron Saint.
His voice was deep and husky like a growl. “Glad to see you’re okay.”
“I almost got him,” she said. A joke, but he didn’t laugh .
“Foolish to pick a fight with someone strung-out on B’Lee, but you’re talking coherently. I doubt you have a severe concussion. You should get some rest.” He stood upon the ledge. “Keep the cape.” He rocked his weight back to prepare to jump. And disappear from her again.
“Wait!”
He hesitated.
“I want to thank you.” She stood, dropping the cape to the ground. Her deep breath heaved her breasts upward. Every vein in her pulsed with wanting. His gaze moved down and quickly back up. She cracked a smile, finally glad that Annie rented her this dress.
He stepped down from the ledge and cleared his throat. “Your words are enough.”
“Sure.” She rolled her shoulders back and held out her hand. “But I want to shake your hand. A little contact doesn’t hurt anybody.” Though it might hurt her. Hand on hand wasn’t the contact she talked about.
”You were in danger. In danger, your brain releases chemicals that make you experience a rush of feelings.” He stepped closer to her. “Lust, for instance. I couldn’t take advantage of you after being in danger.”
“That’s what this is? A chemical reaction?”
He moved even closer. “Most certainly.” She felt the heat of his breath .
“Did you feel a chemical reaction? When I saved you? Don’t you want to thank me?” She lowered her eyelids and tilted her chin, offering her lips to him.
“Or shake your hand?” His gloved hand took hers.
She opened an eye, searching for a clue to tell her where her kiss had gone. He pulled her hand to his face. Then, on the inside of her wrist against her pulse, he kissed her. His lips felt warm and soft against her cold skin. A sigh traveled from her mouth, vaporizing into the air.
He moved from her to the edge of the rooftop. She reached out. “Could I convince you to stay awhile? You and me? A couple of beers? Like you talked about?”
“Like I talked about? I’ll have to take a rain check.” He smirked before taking a running leap off the ledge.
She gasped and ran to the ledge. No way could a man handle that kind of jump. As she looked down, she watched him sprint into the shadows. “Tobias?”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10 (Reading here)
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37