Whisper to a Scream (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #6.5)(7)

I struggled to drink another drop of the horrid swill. I understood her urge to curse. “Hope is the most powerful weapon you can possess in the face of trial and despair. It will move mountains.”

“How very poetic.” Christina’s smile grew wider. Her eyes turned glassy as the liquor’s effects took hold.

After a few more shots, numbness set in, spreading through my extremities. It filled my belly with a soothing warmth. A fog descended over my thoughts, a haze that dulled the guilt lurking in the recesses of my mind. The escape so many sought within a bottle of booze made much more sense to me now.

“So, how do you define yourself, Willow?” She asked, raising a glass in the air before downing its contents. “You have this weird secretive vibe going on.”

I stared into the “shooter” in my hand. My head swam, and the room tilted in my vision. I put the glass back down, shaking my head. Alcohol would have no lasting physical effect on an immortal, but the temporary sensations were growing uncomfortable.

“It shouldn’t come as a surprise then that I can’t tell you,” I teased. I studied her closely, noting the way she played with her hair and her tendency to chew her fingernails. So many little traits that I wanted to memorize in case I never saw her again.

“I’m not sure if I should be creeped out by you or intrigued. There’s something different about you. That’s for sure.” She helped herself to the drink I’d abandoned. “You seem almost normal but not. You’re not a serial killer, are you? That would really end the night on a bad note.”

I spewed tequila as I laughed. Embarrassed, I looked around for napkins. “I can promise you that of all the things I may be, a serial killer is not one of them.”

“Well, I think you’ve just guaranteed this night won’t turn into a total disaster.”

“You’re expecting it to be a disaster?” I countered. “Don’t be too quick to make assumptions, it’s not over yet.”

“That’s true.” She nodded and licked her lips, pausing in thought. “Do you look for the silver lining in everything? You seem like one of those types.”

The way she said “those types,” as if it were a bad thing, bothered me. I saw the darkness that filled the world, yet I also saw the light that constantly drove the darkness back, keeping it from swallowing the earth whole. I longed to share that beauty with her, pained by my inability to do so.

“I believe there is more than enough darkness in the world today. I’d rather spread a little light.” Instead of words, I wanted to drop my illusion of humanity, to flare my great white wings wide and allow her a glimpse of serenity.

“You must not spend a lot of time with us night owls. We don’t see a lot of light; even the morning sun is blinding.” Christina sighed and reached for the last shot of tequila.

“You’d be surprised.” So many beings called the darkness home, and I had borne witness to those that had never been human as well as those that had lost all of their humanity.

She studied me then, making me feel uncomfortable. “You have the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen. I can’t decide if they’re green or gold. It’s like someone sprinkled gold dust into your eyes. Amazing.”

“Thank you.” I shifted in my seat, suddenly unable to sit still.

“So, tell me more about these so called protective services. Please tell me you don’t just lurk around looking for lonely prostitutes.” She made a face then, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

There it was, the spark I’d been seeking within her. The hope she had claimed as her own, it was there, deep inside, burning with a fire all its own. She was no lost soul.

“I take care of those who need me. I offer protection.” There was little more I could say. I was already treading too close to blatant truth.

“Like a bodyguard? That must be dangerous.” She waved to the bartender, calling for another tray of tequila. Her reliance on alcohol was worrisome. It seemed to be a natural outlet for her, but that comfort could be deadly.

A wild cheer from the corner prevented my response. I had to wait for the sports fans to calm down before I could say, “Danger is just the beginning. What I do, it can get outright ugly at times. Which is why I can’t talk about it much.”

She nodded knowingly. “I get that. My job can be pretty scary at times, too.”

“Then why do it?”

“Gotta pay the bills.” She shrugged as if that explanation was enough, but the faraway look in her eyes told me how much she wasn’t saying.

The bartender cleared away the empty shot glasses scattered about our table before depositing a fresh, full batch. With each one that I emptied, I felt myself sinking deeper into the sharp clutches of temptation, an unwelcome reminder that I was playing with fire.

The conversation took a new, lighter turn. Music and other various pop culture references dominated as she told me her many favorites. I nodded along, adding comments in the right places, anything to keep her talking. I was happy to just sit there and listen. Listening is one of the things I do best.

Christina began to open up. What had started as sharing of favorite movies and songs became an outpouring of her reasons why. One song by a popular country music artist reminded her of high school and those precious teenage years so quickly stolen away by time. That led to a story about her first boyfriend. He’d deceived her, wickedly, leading to her distrust of all men.