Wake

Chapter 21

Cian

I wasn't in San Francisco.

In fact, I didn't have the slightest idea where I was. But I loved it.

Wherever I was, it was nothing like my home. Whereas San Francisco was an array of steep hills and valleys, the buildings too bright, the breeze too frigid, this place was temperate. The land was flat, the buildings were tall and chrome, and the sun was high in the clear sky.

I'd taken a bus here, to avoid raising any more human suspicion. I'd never find him if I had cops trailing me everywhere I went; thus was the disadvantage to looking like one of them, walking like one of them.

I'd hated that bus ride. Everything had reeked of gasoline and human pride. I'd wanted to kill all of them—every single one.

Shoving the change from the bus fare down in my pocket, I strolled out of the station, whistling a tune. I was feeling drained; the last blood I had shed had to have been at least a day ago, and I needed more of it, of that relentless power, that energy surge that sparked within me like a sliced cord.

The streets weren't busy, but they weren't sparse. I was in another city, that much I could tell—it was just too many humans in one place. Vitality poured off each of them as they passed: a couple with their newborn baby, a group of sleazy teenagers in beanies and flannel, a homeless man with a shopping cart brimming with useless objects.

A stray cat mewled at me from the sidewalk. I fought the urge to kick it.

Maybe I didn't know where I was, or where I was going, but I knew damn well who I was searching for.

And I knew they weren't back home in San Fran.

I came to somewhat of a shopping center, the streets lined with boutiques and stationery shops and old bookstores. The sidewalk was peppered with dropped receipts, crunched underneath tennis shoes and boots. I searched the whirling crowd of shoppers with a wary gaze: there had to be someone.

Then I saw it: the police car sitting rock-still at the shopping center's edge. I fought a smile; maybe this was going to be easier than I thought.

I stayed close to the alleyways, still observing the milling people. There were more teenagers, some senior citizens, more than a few apathetic husbands dragged by their enthusiastic wives. The whole place smelled like ink and perfume and blood.

The woman closest to me was middle-aged. She looked to be examining some sort of fruit. A man sat in the dimness of the police car in the distance, watching the crowd. I made sure our eyes locked.

As I passed, I caught the woman's arm.

She yelped, but I clamped a hand down over her mouth. "Shh," I said, slipping away into the darkness of the nearest alley. "I'm not going to hurt you if you cooperate."

She whimpered, but I only tightened my grip, holding her writhing form against my chest as I brought her further and further away. The bustling of the shopping center was doused like the wick of the flame; there was only cool silence, the heaving of the woman's shaky breaths. I brought her to the backstreet, facing the riverbank.

I took my hand away.

She gasped. "Who are you? Let me go, let me go!"

"Stop wriggling," I hissed, digging claws into her skin. Her gasp evolved into an audible whine of pain, warm blood trickling down her skin, dripping from her nails. The smile I'd been fighting had resurfaced. "Alright—see, it's easy. You've already done your part. The cop should be here in, I dunno, three, two, one—"
A lone officer burst around the corner, paused to gain himself a defensive stance, then lifted his gun. "Release her at once, or I'll shoot!"

Like I've said. They were all predictable. "Release who?" I asked, then gestured at the shuddering woman I still held captive. It was intoxicating, her fear, seeping from her pores and into my very lifeline. I was drunk with it, with it all. "Oh, her?"

I let the shadows unfurl from underneath my shoulder blades, drawing to their sharp points. As the darkness roiled around my irises, I brought the keen tendrils forward, piercing the woman through her back. She made a gurgling noise, convulsing for a moment before I let her go.

She hit the pavement, cold.

"Look," I said then. "I let her go, officer."

There were flames within me, fierce and endearing. It was like it had been at the bar, but better, so much better. God, the look on the cop's face—it was hilarious. He was biting his lip to keep it from quivering, like his survival relied on whether or not he could keep the utter terror from his face.

He stood there, a few feet from me and the dead woman, the gun shaking in his unsteady hands.

I took a step forward; he fired off a round.

I felt something sharp strike my shoulder. Annoyed, I reached in, plucking the bullet out with my nails. It hit the ground, clinking like a bell. "There's no point in shooting me," I told him. "I'm not going to kill you, anyway. Not yet."

His trigger finger strained anyway. "Stay back!"

Before he could get another one in, I extended a hand towards him, then flicked it to the side. The gun, as if pulled by an invisible force, went skittering out of his grip; he went for it, but by then I had already cornered him. With my blades, I pierced through his shoes, nailing his feet to the ground. He let out an agonizing scream, and I just smiled at his pale face, sweat beading upon his forehead.

"What are you?" he panted. "Leave me alone! I'll call for backup!"

"You won't," I countered. "The only thing you're going to do is listen to me, officer. I need a favor."

Despite himself, the man seemed stunned. "A...a favor?"

"There's someone I'm looking for. You can help with that, can't you?"

There was no reply.

I twisted his neck in my grip, tight enough for him to gasp, not tight enough to strangle him. He was a valuable resource at the moment. "Can't you?" I repeated.

"Y-yes sir!" he managed, as I loosened my grip. "What's their name? I can search my records."

"Splendid," I said. "I'm sure he's in this state, anyway. He's too much of a coward to leave it."

The man before me winced, gritting his teeth. I released one foot, and he sighed in relief. "His name?" he asked me again, wheezing.

I grinned. "His name is Matthew Horne."