The Puppet Assassin [TTR sequel]

The Puppet Assassin - Ch 5 [the dog -|- dizelde]

"Pity you can't carry this TV out, eh?"

Deep and rough, the voice seemed to come out of thin air. Each word curled around the vowel and rang with a truly Scottish burr. The man didn't sound too friendly towards me. Did he think that I'd been planning to steal the TV? Oh no, was this Larkin? Did he think I was a burglar?

"I - I was told to come here. Garth! Garth gave me the keys!" I held them up, slowly turning to face the other occupant of this house. Oh shit, please don't attack me, please don't attack. I didn't want to injure someone.

"Do you think I would believe that? Sorry, you lucked out with that guess. Garth doesn't bring girls home."

What? What was he talking about? Guess?

I turned fully and caught my first sight of him. My immediate thought was that he had a towering figure, looming over my average height. He was slightly tanned, but it wasn't a genetic skin colouring. He looked as if he spent a large amount of time outside in sun. And seeing as we were in the midst of several weeks of rain, he would have to be outside a helluva lot. And I wouldn't be surprised that he got the tan from hours upon hours of playing an outside sport.

He was broad across the shoulder and had obvious muscle all over. He was built like a boxer or swimmer. But he was too tall to compete professionally as a boxer and his hair, long and shaggy, nearly reached the collar of his shirt, cancelling out swimming. A swimmer would have cut it short to stay streamlined in the water. There was no way all that hair would fit under a cap. And, besides, they were both indoor sports.

"I swear. You're Larkin, right? Garth told me about you." If he attacked me I would have to protect myself. And with his size and muscle I would have to harm him to protect me. And I didn't want the first meeting of this guy to get any worse.

"Oh, well done. You've done your homework." He smirked cynically. I couldn't help but notice he had an attractive face. Not that the sight of it swayed me towards liking this stranger. But during training I'd developed ignorance towards facial features. The eyes were the only thing I was supposed to notice, to judge reactions and future moves, as well as prominent features to distinguish one person from another. The fact that his features caught my attention meant something.

Soft, blue eyes. Smooth, unblemished skin. Clearly outlined cheekbones and a slightly longer than average nose. I couldn't explain it but his facial appearance drew my notice.

Too bad his stubborn attitude ruined my desire to look at him for a long amount of time.

"Oh, come on!" I blurted out. "You're a witch, aren't you? Can't you tell I'm not lying?"

He raised a dark red brow, his lips still twisted upward. "Don't try to play innocent. I know that there are ways for witches to shield truth and lie in conversation." His hands were tucked casually into his pockets, but as he moved forward I couldn't help but feel like I was being backed into a corner. He would definitely beat me in a close fight, what with his strength and longer reach, so getting cornered was not going to happen. I would have to stay back, use my speed to get in small attacks and then back out before he knew what hit him. I quickly calculated which weak points on his body would be easiest to attack and safest to retreat from.

"I don't want to hurt you," I said as he kept approaching.

"You? Hurt me? Little girl, I'm an athlete. I'm a shape-changer. And I have several kick-boxing classes per week. You're just a pretty little thing who probably goes to the gym once a week and runs on a treadmill for an hour."

I mentally rolled my eyes. Oh sure, just because I wasn't ten feet tall like him and full of testosterone, there was no way I could hurt him. Sexist pig.