Nicky once more brought me a dinner plate, which was more for appearance's sake than anything else. I nibbled on an apple slice, but Nicky ate almost everything else she'd put on it. She hadn't brought Liz with her, so she must have also realized my fiery temper was hidden just beneath a layer of thin ice.
Using napkins like gloves, she once more took my plate and stacked it on top of hers as she prepared to take them back. "So, what are our plans for the evening? By the time I finished last night, my aim was good enough that Ben was scared, although his reaction might have just been from seeing the bow in my hands. He didn't know I had been practicing."
Whatever I did tonight, the main requirement was that it couldn't involve being around people, or someone was bound to get snarled at. Each overly-examining glance or hushed whisper was just another piece of kindling for my fiery temper. It had also been a long time since I had any decent exercise or had been able to work off my frustrations. All in all, it was a bad combination that was building up into something I probably didn't want to be responsible for.
"I need a break from archery tonight. I thought I heard someone talking about a place where we could practice throwing knives?"
Nicky nodded and pointed with her thumb over her shoulder. "Yeah, it's in the back of the second garage. Two lanes. I doubt anyone goes there after dinner since they use the targets behind the hotel if it's not raining."
Solitude and getting to try knife throwing? "I think I'll have to give it a try."
"Well, if you're throwing knives, then I'm keeping out of your way. I'll go torment that bow again. One of these days, it's going to throw in the towel and quit fighting me."
I shook my head at the odds of that happening. We descended the stairs and parted ways as I headed over to the specified building. The silence proved Nicky was correct – no one was here. The windows let in plenty of light, illuminating two empty vehicle stalls, the tidy workbenches along the sides, and the open throwing area along the back wall.
I walked over and eyed up the ten knives that were carefully arranged on a tray. Reaching across the workbench, I pulled the tray closer, noting that each of the blades was a different size and shape. Picking up the smallest one, I tested its weight and balance before throwing it.
I frowned as the hilt hit the target and clattered across the cardboard that lined the floor for that exact reason. In the past, I had tried throwing knives a few times, and I had sucked at it back then. It looked like the trend was going to continue to hold true. I picked up the next knife and stubbornly kept trying.
Dozens of tries later, yet another knife clattered to the cardboard, echoed by my slow, controlled exhalation of annoyance. My Nightstalker instincts were apparently of no use when I was throwing a knife.
I had thrown each of the ten knives several times, although only six throws had been good enough to lodge the blade in the Styrofoam target. The knives hit the center of the target without fail, but I just couldn't seem to get the tip of the blade to hit at the precise angle required.
I threw the last knife in my hand. It hit sideways and ricocheted at an angle, hitting the wall beside the target, before finally dropping to the ground. I growled in frustration and went to collect them again. How did Nicky manage several nights of archery practice with her terrible aim when I was frustrated after half an hour of throwing knives?
I heard familiar footsteps but didn't bother turning around as I collected the various knives from the floor. Only one had actually stuck in the target. I rolled my shoulders as Daniel's scent reached me. I picked up the last knife and turned around to walk back to the throwing line.
Daniel leaned against the wall by the doorway and watched me with a puzzled expression. I turned my attention back to the target and threw another knife. He watched without a word as one by one, seven knives bounced off the target one after another. Each failure with a witness was a blow to my Nightstalker pride.
I snorted. "And this is why I prefer a crowbar."
I whipped another knife at the target, which, predictably, hit hilt first and also plummeted to the floor like some kind of powerful magnet was dragging it into a black hole. These pitiful attempts at knife throwing were not doing my temper any favors.
The next knife at least stuck in the target, even if the tip was in by such a small amount that a breeze was a serious threat. I wondered what thoughts were rolling through Daniel's mind.
"I saw you pacing on the roof earlier. You seem more restless than usual."
"That's because I am getting more restless," I huffed. Was it not obvious enough for him?
He tilted his head. "And why would that be? I don't think I've seen you this worked up since we arrived."
I snorted and sent him a look of disbelief. "When we first arrived, I was so seriously injured that I was sleeping three-quarters of the day. I even managed to sleep in the back of a moving truck with all of you in it. It certainly wasn't by choice. It's just what the body does when it's trying to patch up what would otherwise be fatal wounds."
Daniel blinked in surprise at that tidbit of information. I hadn't actually slept that much, but he had no way of knowing that, and I didn't think he was close enough to pick up the exaggeration in my scent. With luck, it might mislead him. I threw the last knife and growled when it bounced off the target like the rest of its stubborn companions.
With a frown, I collected the blades and returned to the throwing line. I was either a sucker for punishment or hell-bent on aggravating myself even more.
I threw three knives before I spoke again. "My lung and heart must have mostly healed since I'm no longer sleeping the entire afternoon, nor have I felt any blood in my lung the last couple of days. Before I got injured, I often went off by myself while we were on the road. This last week, I've barely moved, and I've never been around this many people since I turned. So, I can't see why you're surprised that I feel cooped up and restless."
Going over all my reasons only reminded me of them and stirred up my frustration. I balanced a knife in my hand to get the weight of it and threw it – only for it to hit sideways and drop to the floor. One by one, I threw the remaining knives. When I finished, all ten lay on the floor as if taunting me.
Fed up with the uncooperative knives, I collected them and put them back on the tray, arranging them with controlled, angry precision. I glanced at Daniel, who seemed lost in thought, but I knew he was still watching me. I slid the tray back against the wall where it had originally been sitting.
"Where do you usually hunt? I haven't crossed your trail on the way to where those traps are."
"I usually go east or south, although I circle the Stronghold a couple times a day to check for any trouble."
In other words, he'd likely cross any of my trails as soon as the sun rose. That only irritated me further. I shook myself, trying to settle my temper, although the attempt was unsuccessful.
"I'm heading to my room," I said petulantly.
He nodded absently. "If you ever feel like you need to blow off steam, my offer still stands, although that probably has to wait until your injuries heal more."
"Uh-huh. I'll pass," I muttered as I walked toward the door. My instincts protested against the show of weakness and the insinuation that I was too injured to even throw a punch.
In fact, he didn't look at me as I walked past him. As if I wasn't even a potential threat. That lit the match on my already-smoldering temper.
"On second thought..." With a growl, I launched myself at him.
He hadn't been expecting it and barely dodged my initial attack, backing into the middle of the garage so he had more room to maneuver. I didn't give him a chance to recover and kept trying to get a hit past his guard.
I tried again and again. Each time, my fist struck the back of his arm or completely missed him as he dodged it. To my growing annoyance, he blocked each attempt without much effort, still looking somewhat startled, as if he couldn't figure out where this outburst had come from.
With teeth bared in a silent snarl, I darted in low, trying to tackle his legs out from under him. He snagged my wrists and twisted to the side, making me fly past him. He was clearly trying to be gentle, even though I made no such effort. The second my feet got sufficient traction, I came right back at him. Despite numerous attempts, I wasn't able to get past his guard.
My success rate was worse than when I had been throwing the knives. Even as I realized that, Daniel tired of remaining on the defensive. My next strike met only air as he grabbed my arm and jerked me forward.
I snarled, both in anger and in pain, but even though I recognized the move, I couldn't stop him from spinning me around and wrapping a restraining arm across my chest. My struggles were about as effective as last time. When I felt my wounds pull painfully, I stilled with a faint growl, accepting that he had won this round as well.
After a few seconds, he released me. I spun away and backed up, silently cursing myself for losing my temper again. If nothing else, my instincts had settled noticeably, although the wound on my back throbbed and felt wet. Several other bandages also felt damp.
"I'll admit I wasn't expecting that. Are you okay?"
I shook myself off, noting that one edge of the scab over my heart had likely come loose from how it rubbed against my skin. It wasn't going to stay on for more than a day or two if the edges were starting to let go. The shaking only worsened the throbbing on my back.
"Nothing that's going to delay my departure in two weeks."
He tilted his head, suddenly intent. "That's what has really been bothering you, isn't it?"
"Have you seen how persistent these people are?" I retorted.
With a sigh, he quietly said, "You don't have to leave with fanfare. Just leave your door open so we know you're gone, and you can quietly disappear. Ben sleeps hard enough that he won't wake if you open his door to call Chloe. His room is just down the hall from Nicky's."
There it was. Proof that Daniel had nothing against me leaving this place.
Like water in a sieve, the last of my anger trickled away. My muscles relaxed, and I took a deep breath as the caged feeling dissipated.
Daniel sniffed the air. "Are you okay?"
It took me a second to realize that he had picked up the scent of my blood.
"The scab on my thigh probably just cracked again," I muttered evasively. "Nina gave me some spare bandages. I'll go check it."
He remained where he was as I left the garage, watching me with both concern and perplexity. I retreated to the secondary building and went up to the third floor to use their showers, mostly so I didn't have to walk past Nina and Daniel's doors once I finished.
The scab on my leg had cracked in several places, and the one on my back still throbbed, clearly having suffered the most damage. I'd have to ask Nicky what it looked like tomorrow afternoon. I took care not to touch the scabs on my chest in case they fell off. An injury always looked worse if there was a big scab on it.
Miracle of miracles, I made it to my room without Nina coming to see if I wanted help with the bandages. I wasn't sure why I still wanted to avoid and mislead her, although there was a chance she might unwittingly let some comment drop about me possibly leaving soon.
Overall, most of my tension was gone, which was a relief. Admittedly, the majority of it was due to my instincts subsiding after losing the fight. I watched as the sun dipped toward the horizon, debating on different ways to confuse our scent trail until we found a vehicle. My instincts still wanted to cover our scent trail, even if Daniel had no desire to follow us. Part of my mind wondered how confused or frustrated he'd get when he realized he couldn't find the trail.
My mind went over all our preparations. There were several plastic water bottles filled with gasoline already hidden in the forest, courtesy of the side-by-side's trips out there. That meant we just needed a vehicle that was out of fuel.
I hadn't wandered away from the area with the rabbit traps, mostly because Daniel would notice. His nose might not be as sharp as mine, but if he came near my trail, he would certainly know it.
Nicky's offers to go with the hunters had been immediately turned down each time. Not that I was exactly surprised about that outcome since they would have seen her archery prowess by now.
We would have to travel along a main road until we found an abandoned vehicle. There had been plenty of them along the road on our way here, so I assumed there would be more down any highway we picked.
Getting outside the fence at night could be problematic. Guards were posted by each gate in case a feral Runner showed up. Leaving during our afternoon outing wasn't the best plan since one of the many hunting or gathering groups would likely see us.
Still thinking about other options and possibilities, I leaned against the wall and promptly sat straighter as pain lanced through the injury on my back.
Grumbling, I turned and leaned sideways against the wall as I tried to fall asleep.