Chapter 71 The Ballroom
"I'm sure I can handle what you are." Arianne said, seemingly unconcerned with the animalistic ripple in his voice.
Callin opened his mouth to reply but then a group of teens entered the hall, walking and talking loudly. There were five of them, and each one seemed to be trying to talk louder and more than the next. Callin instantly felt like getting in their faces and telling them to shut their mouths.
"Hey look. It's the hot but dark guy and his follower." One of the girls said.
"Keep moving." Arianne said coldly.
Callin saw how her eyes were glittering. He could see the confidence in her stance, and her tone. And so could the girls. They all nodded once and hurried on by, with the two guys giving Arianne appraising looks. She gave them disgusted looks in return, making Callin grin. Arianne was obviously used to dealing with people of all ages.
She looked back at him, seeing his amusement at how she had handled the group, smiling herself.
"You seem very...unsure around people. Not like a lack of confidence, exactly, but more like you don't know how to act..."
Callin just shrugged. He knew she was curious about him. He knew that she suspected there was much more to his story than he let on, and he wasn't about to tell her any of his secrets. She was simply too curious, and it wouldn't do her any good to get involved in his world in any way.
"Wait." Arianne said, seeing him turn to enter his room. "Can I come in? We could talk. I could even help you...help you with your mission."
"No. It's best if you stay away from me. And you definitely do not want any part of my mission." He knew he sounded short, but he also knew that she was one that would be likely to push.
"Well-" She trailed off as he stepped into his room, raising her eyebrows at him as he closed the door in her face as she was talking.
Callin stood by the door, hearing her sigh of frustration, then hearing her footsteps fade away. He was annoyed at the sensation of relief that washed through him when he realized she wasn't going to persist. Then, even as he stood there dwelling on her and Miya, his nose alerted him that someone had been in his room.
He stalked through his rooms, following his nose. Following the path of whoever had been here. It was a man, likely in his late forties. One wearing light clothes, coconut shampoo or sunblock, and a piece of metal. Small, subtle. Close to the skin. Callin suspected it was a knife.
The scent was full of the unique signature of the man, what he had eaten earlier, his general sense of self. His smooth assurance.
Callin knew this was someone very comfortable with searching another persons room. Someone confident and relaxed, even as they went through an action that could result in extreme conflict. Someone like one of the Special Forces men on the boat.
He stalked out of his room and began to circle the giant boat, his nose up as he quested the air through the hallways. He barely noticed people around him, hardly registering their confused looks as they saw him following his nose like a wolf. He had the scent locked in his mind like a beacon, and the faintest traces of it led him onward.
Eventually, after almost two hours of searching, he found a section of the cruise ship where the man's scent was much stronger. Much more recent. He was so focused on following that scent that he didn't register that he had entered the executive section of the ship. Not until he found himself standing outside the huge, ornate doors that led into a ballroom that was filled with hundreds of people.
"Whoa there. Where do you think you're going, boy?"
Callin eyed the man blocking the doors to the ballroom. He was huge, towering over him and at least 300 pounds of muscle. Callin locked his eyes onto the door guard and cracked open the door to the seething fury inside, letting it glitter in his eyes.
"Move."
The bouncer blinked, both at the look in his eyes, and the low snarl woven into Callin's voice. Then he chuckled, his voice a deep rumble.
"You want in, you're going to have go through me first, boy."
"Fine." Callin said. Then he darted forward, his straight palm strike connecting squarely with the bouncer's solar plexus.
The man wheezed and bent over, his eyes bulging as he wrapped his hands tight around his midsection as every last bit of air in his lungs was abruptly forced out. Callin stepped forward and snapped his knee up, directly into the guard's nose. Callin watched dispassionately as the huge man dropped to the floor at his feet, his limbs flopping limp and his eyes rolled back in his skull.
"Should have just let me by." He growled, stepping over him and into the ballroom.
He reeled back as a crush of sounds and scents slapped into him, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth as he fought to address and cope with the onslaught. He could hear hundreds of voices, hundreds of heartbeats, and he could scent the chaotic kaleidoscope range of human emotions and sensations, along with the scents of the ballroom itself.
Once he felt centered, he opened his eyes and began to work his way towards the center of the room, his head up and his eyes narrowed as he scented the air constantly. Seeking his prey. He brushed past the dancing patrons in their fine suits, hardly noticing them. They were sheep, they did not concern him.
Then a teenage girl stepped directly into his path. She smiled when he met her eyes.
"You look like you're on a mission." Her voice was slightly husky, with a teasing tone.
Callin saw the glimmer of interest in her eyes. He could read her scent, her body language. He also could read the bored, entitled expression and stance she wore as tight as the slinky red dress she had squeezed herself into.
"I'm looking for someone. Sorry." He said, moving to step past her.
She sidestepped, placing herself directly in front of him. "Wait. Are you sure it's not me you're looking for?"
"The person I'm looking for smells about thirty five years old, like he hasn't showered in two days, wears hair gel, doesn't wear deodorant, and will also carry the scent of someone who recently broke into my room. You don't carry any of those scents, so yes, I'm sure you're not the one I'm looking for." He growled.
Her eyes widened at that, and then she shot him a real smile. It was a crack in her mask, and it actually made her pretty. "Well, I'm glad I don't smell like any of that! You must have a very good nose..."
Callin looked at her. He could see she was used to extreme wealth. She had been born into it. He could see how bored she was, and how he was something unique to her, and therefore interesting. Her perfume was poignant, a subtle cloud woven of hundreds of different, complex scents. It was distracting, and it made it harder for him to analyze the scents of everyone in the room.
He took a step back from her as he lifted his nose to scent the air again, but she stepped forward, right against him. He held still when her hand came up and rested on the center of his chest, then began to lightly slide back and forth.
"Wow..." She breathed, her eyes hooded as she looked down at her hand, then back up at him. "You must work out!"
Callin clenched his jaw and tried to calm his racing thoughts. It felt nearly futile, so he took two, quick steps backwards.
"Don't touch." He blinked at the words that left his mouth, wondering why he suddenly sounded like an idiot.
She looked surprised, then even more interested. "Look but don't touch, hmm?"
Callin spun and hurried away from her, shaking his head in a weak attempt to get his imagination to relax. It didn't help, so he took a deep breath through his nose, and then stopped as he caught the very edge of the scent he was looking for.
Whoever had broke into his room was here. The scent was fresh. He forgot about the rich girl and began to follow his nose through the crowd. Hunting.
A commotion by the door told him the unconscious bouncer had been discovered. He figured a signal must have been sent to the various guards throughout the room because he saw around twenty of them go on high alert, their eyes scanning the crowd.
Then, just ahead of him, he caught the scent of his prey. The man stood at the bar, his face in profile as he talked with a slim, black-haired lady. He recognized the man as one of Brent's men as he stepped closer.
"Find what you were looking for?"
The soldier turned, looking at Callin surprise. "How did you get in here?"
"I walked in. Did Brent order you to search my rooms? Or Michael?"
The man turned to face Callin fully, his stance showing he was ready for action, even though to the untrained eye he would look like he was simply having a casual conversation. Callin could see it, though, and he narrowed his eyes.
"You won't stand a chance." He stated flatly.
"Can't fault me for wanting to go down fighting, though, can you?"
Callin shrugged. "I'm not here to take you down. I just want an answer. Who ordered you to search my rooms?"
"It was Brent. Acting on his own, Michael had no part in it." The soldier seemed relaxed as he gave his answer, though his eyes were sharp as he watched Callin. "Brent's sole responsibility is to protect Michael. Even if it means operating without his express permission or knowledge."
Callin was surprised at the surge of relief wash over him as he heard the truth in the soldier's voice. As he realized he had half expected to have found that Michael still didn't trust him, and that having Michael's trust was somehow actually important to him.
"Give Brent a message from me. Tell him if he has any questions for me, or about me, he shouldn't be a pussy and send his men to do his dirty work, he should come to me directly." Callin growled, then turned to walk away.
He stopped as he found himself facing a half-circle of twenty, grim-faced soldiers. As he saw the entire ballroom was pressing back away from them all, but watching with excitement.
"I'm going to leave. I'm going to walk away. You can step out of my way, or you can all end up in the hospital. Your call." Callin stated.
Most of them smiled coldly. A few shook their heads in disbelief at him.
"You're coming with us." One of them said, stepping forward and reaching out to grab him.
Callin stepped forward to meet him, ducking under his arm, then driving his fingers up into the man's armpit, shocking the nerve cluster in the soft tissue, instantly rendering his arm limp and useless. He continued his downward momentum and smoothly executed a perfect, spinning leg sweep.
The sound of the soldier's head bouncing off the floor seemed to echo around the nearly silent room. Callin stood slowly, his eyes glittering and his fists up. He bared his teeth in a primal snarl and motioned them all forward.
"C'mon!" He snarled.
He wasn't surprised when the entire group rushed him. And he was ready for them. He spun and ducked, always moving at forward or backward angles, always down low. Never an easy target for anyone. And his foot rose up in vicious, lightning-quick, front-snap kicks, connecting on the underside of the jaws of anyone who was in reach. And for every one who he connected with, their heads snapped backwards and their eyes rolled up in their heads, and they dropped to the floor, unconscious. Like he had just tapped their off switch.
After two minutes there were only three left standing, and all three were backing away from him, their eyes shining with disbelief. Callin snarled at them, stalking forward. All three spun and sprinted away, and Callin had to grit his teeth to resist the urge to pursue his fleeing prey. This was not a hunt.
The absolute silence in the room, besides the hundreds of racing heartbeats and shallow breathing of every last person in the room, caught his attention. He looked around, seeing every face focused on him. Seeing their stunned expressions.
"Told them they should just let me walk away." He growled.