A faint crunch behind her, Anastasia jumps, glancing back warily. Her eyes are searching for any suspect sign, but there is no one, only the inanimate forms of tall elms and large buildings standing impressively, and she is startled once again as the reason for this noise takes off in a flap of wings.
She watches the as-skittish-as-her pigeon fly away, and then she brushes it off, trying to suppress the ridiculous shiver running down her spine.
The sun hasn't shown up today, and now, at this hour of the late afternoon, everything is appearing dark and gloomy. Though in this atmosphere, all cats are gray, and this is helping her cause, if not her assurance.
She focuses her gaze ahead again, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes rake frantically the area for the two silhouettes she has been following.
She lets a sigh of relief when she arrives at a crossroads and finally spots them. Yet it is still a hollow breath, constricted in her throat by her heart inching higher with each step, or maybe it is her knotted stomach? She isn't sure.
A few cars and people are passing by, and her fingers instinctively slid to her scale pendant, gripping it a little too tightly as she is trying her best to keep a casual pace.
After all, she is just walking out after her full day of classes; she is doing nothing wrong. At least, that's what she hopes it is looking like. The line between wrong and right is getting blurred for her these days.
She turns her attention back to her aim. The Photography Room, she realizes in front of the older building, which she has never really approached before. The silhouettes disappear inside, and she is left staring at the admittedly smaller construction, yet as intimidating, if not more, than the taller ones around.
She eyes the building as if it is some kind of gigantic monster, the closed door appearing like a mouth ready to open and swallow her, and she must be imagining things but she feels as if someone is watching her, her gaze traveling instinctively to the dark windows of the edifice.
She gulps, trying to push down whatever is forming in her throat; she can't decypher it anymore, and that's maybe why she is here: to find some clarity, or at least some answers.
The thought of turning back crosses her mind back and forth, though her feet are already advancing slowly forward, and she is nearing the faded gray door, preparing to run at any movement.
However, she freezes when a voice startles her from behind.
"Are you lost?"
***
Nate heaves out a loud sigh, diverting his gaze from the screens in front of him and letting it wander around the small space. But inside the trunk of a van, there isn't much to look at, and everything brings him back claustrophobic feelings.
"Express delivery: two iced coffee!" Darrell storms in before Nate can be invaded by suffocating flashbacks, stretching his arms as wide as he can in the narrow space while he is bending to squeeze in his tall figure in the trunk.
Yet it seems like he is opening the space with his large grin and open arms holding two coffee cups.
"You know we're supposed to be in a covert mission?" Nate lifts an eyebrow, shaking his head.
"You know," Darrell imitates his tone. "That these are soundproof!" He thumps on one of the metallic sides before plopping down on the seat beside Nate and setting one of the cups in front of him. "Here, Grumpy Pants!"
A tiny smile instantly tickles Nate's lips at the sight of the dark-gray cardboard cup, calling back memories of a cute frown and a crystalline laugh in his mind. They've barely met at the time... It feels like yesterday, yet also as if it's been millions of years ago from where they are now...
He takes a sip of the cold and bitter taste, the exact opposite of Anastasia.
No matter what he does or where he is, everything leads him back to her.
Here, it's a strange feeling. Just her images playing over and over again in his mind make him light as a feather, the sensation of flying freely expanding inside, yet in this familiar, restricted environment, the heavy reality and concrete weight of the risks they're taking are crushing his lungs.
"Oh, we have two arrivals!" Darrell pulls him out of his ambivalent thoughts, and Nate is quick to shake off the first images coming to his mind with these words and focus on the screen before his eyes.
A man and a woman, blond short mohawk and curly black hair, average sizes. He's learned to process these details like an automaton, typing on the keyboard, but never letting the human aspect pass the shield he's built over the years.
"They're already on the Shady list." Nate eyes the ID photos popping on the screen, swallowing hard.
The next list is not a good one, and the pictures seem to stare accusingly at him, piercing through his iron shield.
"And this one? Still on the Shady list too?" Darrell nods towards the guy covered in tattoos opening them the door. "I swear I see him every time I'm in covert!" He laughs under his breath as the cameras are zooming on the scene, and it almost looks like the man's gaze is staring straight at them for a second. "I'm impressed by this dude's nerve and luck!"
"Maybe he isn't guilty?" Nate tries to justify, and it passes as playful even if he isn't really.
"Yeah, and he's guarding the Photography club like Cerberus?!" Darrell lifts an eyebrow, and although Nate is always appreciative of his best friend's joker remarks lightening even the heaviest situations, today, it barely pulls him a faint, tired chuckle as he watches absent-mindedly the silhouettes disappearing from the screen, and like his gaze, the motion sensor cameras losing focus.
The tattooed man hasn't entered the building; that is sure, yet the cameras have lost his track. He seems as sly as a fox, defeating the merciless motion-following cameras. He knows what he is doing, and his nerve has got him the luck to not pass on the following list.
Nate looks at the only moving thing on the screen: the time. Though the more he stares at it, the less it seems to be moving.
"How long have we been here?" He sighs.
"One hour and ten minutes, but who counts?" Darrell gives him a wry grin, his eyebrows lifting as Nate returns the half-smile before throwing his head back with another heavy sigh.
"Come on! I don't like it either, but the promotions are around the corner..."
Nate wonders which one of them Darrell is trying to convince, but at least, for him, it doesn't work.
"And it's not like going back to hell," he adds, and even his typical humor sinks under the seriousness falling with his words. "We're just..."
"Just searching to send people there..." Nate finishes, his tone deadly, yet there is no other way to say it.
He feels the dark memories crawling under his skin. They have found their way into his thick shield long ago, so he can never really escape them, and now, they are swirling with forbidden pages he's read and luminous memories of his angel.
'Going back to hell', the sentence echoes in a deafening bang, flooring him.
"The special missions..." Darrell calls back his attention. "The travels, the high rescues and emergency missions..." He sips his coffee, using his arguments like carrots in front of a donkey to motivate them and chase the dull mood.
That's what he's used to doing, and after all these years, Nate can guess what's coming as Darrell lifts his fist towards Nate's arm. Though he stops an inch away from the bandage.
"I thought you could remove it today?"
"Missing punching me and getting a trashing right after?" Nate raises a challenging eyebrow above his cup and shrugs. "Yeah, I should've, but I've slept in this morning, and I haven't found the time yet."
He might even have forgotten it for a moment because the pain is now totally gone.
"Ah... I see you, dude! You keep yawning all day long..."
"No, I don't," Nate denies quickly under his best friend's knowing glance, and a yawn rips his lips open and his argument away, as if just the word had summoned it.
"I see you..." Darrell repeats slyly. "The yawns, the hickeys..."
Nate almost chokes on his coffee, which he's tried to use to push the yawns away, as Darrell's cocked eyebrows are pointing at the underside of his jaw, a little lower than his ear, a sweet spot that Anastasia seems to have discovered and claimed as hers, making him melt under her mouth.
The heat is quickly expanding from this point, but under his friend's eyes, it's growing into a cold sweat, the faint yet blinding white lighting only emphasizing the questioning atmosphere, and it's without even taking into account the hell-bound lists sitting in some file of the computer and in the back of his mind.
He's sure he's concealed it like Anastasia has shown him to, though in the rush, maybe he hasn't applied enough product, and he isn't as meticulous as her delicate fingers. This is not the time to think about this, but he can't seem to find any plausible lie.
"Pamela is getting wild?!"
Darrell's words arrive like a big wind of relief, blowing Nate's already winded breath away.
His mind is so steeped in Anastasia that he hasn't thought of the most obvious. He is breaking the law and lying so much recently that he has forgotten that he's always been serious and upright, and Anastasia is too. So as long as no one sees them, they're safe. He can breathe; they can breathe.
"You see through me!" A smirk itches Nate's lips at how clueless Darrell can be as he brags that 'nothing escapes him'.
The dark clouds are still there, but the wave of relief that just has washed over him has loosened his tensions.
"You know me too well!"
"Now tell me, what do you do?" Darrell's eyes sparkle in curiosity, making Nate shudder again, even if it isn't exactly for the same reason.
"No!"
Darrell has strictly no taboo, and he's never embarrassed, but Nate isn't so at ease, especially because this subject is forbidden by the law – even though his best friend doesn't know this detail.
"Come on, dude! Give me ideas! To help a friend! It gets boring with Mary..."
Nate heaves out a sigh as his friend's gaze is still on him, and he isn't one of the best at questioning for nothing; those blue eyes are annoyingly piercing, especially when they peer up at him from under his creased eyebrows.
"Try with some food..." he mutters, wanting to change the subject before it gets possibly more awkward, yet mostly before he gives away too much and gets lost in his lies.
"Oooh... Interesting..." Darrell's expression instantly switches for a wolfish and satisfied grin, while Nate keeps his own smile hidden.
"It is..." The delicious tingles are still inked in all of Nate's senses, and his mind is already flying back to his angel.
"I didn't expect this from Pamela!" Darrell's chuckle sadly makes him fall back to reality too soon.
"Yeah, but don't tell her I told you. She... she doesn't want anyone to know," Nate adds, another lie.
"Like I would talk about this with her anyway! It's known we're so close!" Darrell notes ironically.
He's never really liked her, and they rarely exchange more than two words when they meet.
Nate wonders if he would get along with Anastasia. How could anyone not like her? Though the thought of them getting to know each other is very unlikely in any way, and his mind once more doesn't get the time to escape the limits of this confined trunk, and even less those of the real world.
"Hey! It looks like we have a newcomer..." Darrell nods to the screen. "I've already seen this chick somewhere..."
Nate follows his friend's squinting gaze at the screen.
Blond ponytail, slim, petite silhouette. His ironclad barrier is shattered with a loud bang of his heart.
So who do you think this 'chick' is? And any guess on who has startled Anastasia? 😏
We're getting to see a little bit more of Nate's work, and we're finally getting introduced to the rebels... 😈 Your thoughts on it?
Vote and comment if you like this chapter! And remember to never be shy with me, my little rays of sunshine 😘🌞❤
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