Page 2 of Black Widow's Bite

Someone else caught my eye, and I shifted to get a better look, lowering my sunglasses down to the bridge of my nose. A young woman walked into the alley, her eyes fixed on the very same cat that I’d been watching. Finally, something potentially interesting was happening. The woman looked like a professional of some kind, with nice clothes and fancy hair. She was definitely too nice-looking to be hanging around here. She must have an eclectic friend who’d lured her here for a night out or something. She took something out of her purse and set it down for the cat - a tin of food it looked like. Who the fuck walked around with cat food in their purse? Maybe she wasn’t so fancy after all.

Before I could dwell on that question, I noticed two men had stopped at the mouth of the alley, eyeing the woman with consideration. I finished my beer in two gulps, crushing the can in my hand. I didn’t like the look of this. Something about their stance was too predatory to ignore. She hadn’t noticed them yet, her attention shifting to the staircase leading to our building’s basement. I wondered what would possess her to do that since it was probably the most uninviting location in the surrounding area, purposefully I might add. As I’d anticipated, her good sense had her backtracking out of the alley, only to run into the two men I’d been worried about.

Sure enough, the big one tried to grab her, blocking her path to prevent her from escaping. Ishifted into a crouch, I knew I couldn’t make the jump without breaking my legs, but I could swing down the busted ladder in a pinch. The woman threw her purse - a good move, but unfortunately not what they were interested in. I snarled and tossed my can down, preparing for the jump I was about to make. Then, something strange happened that made me pause. The big man grabbed her wrist, and whatever she said just... stopped him dead in his tracks. Even after his friend lunged at her, he didn’t move, and he looked dazed like he’d taken a punch or two to the head. An inhuman howl got me moving again, and I scampered down the ladder, jumping once I reached the last wrung. I rolled when I hit the ground, springing up in time to see the woman fall backwards down the stairs, landing in a heap at the bottom.

My heart plummeted, and rage took over as I pulled my knife out of my pocket and jabbed it into the side of the guy who’d thrown her. He let out a string of curses as he shoved past me. I wrenched the knife out of him and let him go, blood staining his jacket as he hauled his dazed friend with him out of the alley. Good, let him bleed out somewhere else. It was less likely it could be linked to us then.

I waited until I was sure they’d gone and ran to the stairs, jumping down to the bottom where the woman lay unmoving. It looked like she was breathing, but I couldn’t tell much else in the dark recesses of the stairwell. Thankfully, I kept my keys to the building in my pocket so I wouldn’t have to drag her around to the front door. I unlocked the basement door and carefully scooped the woman up into my arms, being respectful of her personal space as best I could and avoiding the areas where her clothes had torn. This was a terrible idea, but the alternative was leaving a potentially dead woman on our doorstep, and we definitely didn’t need that kind of attention.

Chapter 3

Addison

Ifelt like I’d been hit by a bus. As consciousness slowly began seeping back into my brain, I became uncomfortably aware of all the different body parts that were hurting, and I wasn’t a fan. I had a brief thought that maybe I was dead, but I would think death wouldn’t hurt this much. More of my awareness filtered back, and I realized I wasn’t in my bed at home. I also wasn’t on the ground, which is where I vaguely remembered ending up after falling down the stairs. So where the fuck was I?

I opened my eyes, blinking as the light set off a pounding in my skull.I touched the side of my head where it was hurting the most, and my hand came away red - well, that wasn’t ideal. Sitting up slowly, I discerned that I was lying on a worn-out leather couch, but the where was still unknown. I was still wearing my work clothes, although my blouse was ripped at the shoulder, and one knee in my pants had torn. Nothing felt broken at least, but my ankle felt sprained. l must’ve hit it in on a step on the way down. I could almost hear my grandma chiding me for ignoring the bad omen, the I-told-you-so dancing on her lips with a sad smile. She didn’t like when I got hurt, but that old bat just loved to be right.

As my eyes adjusted to the lighting, I examined the room some more. A run-down pool table was on one side, next to a beer fridge and a bar counter. An odd collection of lounge chairs, a futon, and the couch I was lying on sat haphazardly around acrooked coffee table. Judging by the tiny windows along the top of the wall, I had to be in some kind of basement. A shiver went down my bruised spine. Maybe this was what was behind the door at the bottom of the stairs I’d fallen down.

A noise made me jump, and I saw a quick flash of someone standing in the nearby doorway before they disappeared from view. Yeah, I needed to get out of here. This was starting to feel a little too much like a horror movie. I stood up gingerly and tested putting weight on my feet. My left leg was fine, but when I tried stepping down on my right foot, a stabbing pain went through my ankle and I stumbled, catching myself on the couch. Fuck, I’d have to hop my way out of here, apparently.

“You should sit down for a minute. You hit your head pretty hard.” a gentle voice announced. I whirled around, still standing on my good leg, trying to look more threatening than I currently felt. A guy - roughly my age, if I had to guess - was standing by the door, holding a bottle of water in his hands. He had shaggy dark hair that fell in messy waves around his face, and dark aviator sunglasses that must’ve made it difficult to see down here in the dim basement light. I couldn’t tell much about him. Other than he was relatively tall, the giant black hoodie he was wearing obscured his shape.

“I’m actually going to get going now,” I told him sharply, looking behind me towards the door. If I hopped quickly and didn’t trip, I could probably make it there before he could get around the table.

“I’m not one of the guys who jumped you,” he told me softly, holding his hands up. “You’re in the basement of my tattoo studio. I saw you fall and didn’t think you’d appreciate waking up in a pile of mouse shit.” he took a step towards me, hands still raised. I tensed, but let him step closer, and he set the water bottle on the table in front of me. He seemed harmless enough,although only douchebags and psychopaths wore sunglasses inside, so I didn’t quite trust him.

I waited until he backed up again and took a seat in the furthest chair from me, then I grabbed the water off the table. The lid was still sealed, so I didn’t think he’d tampered with it. I took a long couple of drinks while he watched me in silence.

“Well, thanks for the water, and for, uh, finding me, I guess,” I smiled thinly. “I am going to leave now, though.” I took a step towards the door, stumbling again as my ankle refused to hold up. The guy was out of his seat and reaching for me faster than I would’ve guessed he could move. Flinching away from his hands, I grabbed the nearby chair for support. “I’m fine,” I snapped.

“You’re clearly not,” he replied evenly, but backed away a step. “Why don’t you let me take a look at your ankle and make sure it’s not broken?”

“Listen,Shades, I appreciate your help, but you’re not a doctor.” I bit back. “So just keep your hands off me and let me leave.” I took another hop-step towards the door, my eyes on him as I used the chair as a crutch.

“My name is Wyatt, and how about we make a deal? You can dial 9-1-1 on the phone and hold it the whole time I check your ankle. If it is broken, you can just hit dial and call an ambulance,” he offered. He pulled out his phone - oh fuck, I wonder where my purse had ended up - and dialled the numbers, holding it out for me to take.

He was being semi-reasonable, so it was hard to argue without seeming like a lunatic myself. At least if he was trying to kill me, he was making it a lot harder for himself. I kept my eyes on him as I snatched the phone and sat down on the chair I was gripping onto, propping my leg up on the rickety table. Wyatt walked over slowly, like he was trying not to spook a wild animal, and sat down on the edge of the couch close to my leg. I liftedup my pant leg, exposing my ankle and my shin. It was definitely bruised and starting to swell. He reached out to touch it and I flinched away.

“You said you were going to look,” I reminded him sharply, and even with the sunglasses on, I could see the exasperated look in his eyes.

“Listen,sweetheart, I can’t tell if it’s broken unless I check around the bone. I’m not just trying to feel up your ankle,” he replied sarcastically. He was frowning at me, probably trying to figure out if my lovely personality was God-given or the result of brain damage from the fall.

“My name is Addison, not sweetheart. How about I feel around it and you tell me what I’m supposed to look for?” I snapped back and started pressing gently around the part that was swelling. Wyatt sighed heavily and shook his head.

“Alright, fine. Does anything move that shouldn’t move when you push on it?” he asked. I felt around, wincing when certain points stung as I prodded them. I shook my head. Nothing was moving, at least.

“Great, can you wiggle your toes?” he asked me next and waited while I tried. I nodded, all toes accounted for. “Okay, then I think you just sprained it. Is your car nearby? I can help you get to it.” he offered. I pulled my pant leg down and sighed.

“No, I was walking home from work. I live nearby... ish.” I added, cringing slightly. Well, now he knew I lived close, so I was really making it easy for him to hunt me down and kill me. He looked at me for a moment - probably thinking about how best to stuff my body in a dumpster.

“My, uh, roommate has a car. He’ll be home later tonight. I could drive you back to your place then?” Wyatt suggested. I really didn’t want to stay here any longer than I had to, and my hesitation must have been a good enough answer. “Okay, well,I have something that could help take some of the pain, so you could limp home on your own then.”

Awesome, I loved that my options were hanging out in a stranger’s creepy basement or taking sketchy pain relief from a stranger. Today was really living up to its potential.

“Sure, what is it? Like numbing cream or ibuprofen?” I asked. Anything just to get out of there at this point.

“Not exactly,” Wyatt replied, running a hand through his messy hair. “Can you just let me touch your ankle for a second? It’ll help, I swear.” okay, what was his deal? Was there an ankle fetish society I was unaware of? I glared at him.

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