Page 18 of Snow Blind

"The Chrysalis," she said. "You've ruffled some feathers, and they want to know who and what you are."

"When they find out, let me know," she said, pausing. "You might want to get me implanted sooner rather than later. Just in case some shit goes sideways."

"I'll get Passion Fruit to do it today. It hurts," Azreal said.

"So does life."

"Lie low for a minute and stay out of sight until I can find out who this man is, Cranberry," Azreal said.

"Will do, but we are supposed to be at Bad Apple's for Thanksgiving, plus what is the schedule for the Holidays? Can you let me know?" Helen said. "I have some family issues; you know Daddy wants to have the whole Yuletide Cheer crap."

"You're a pain in the ass," Azreal said, disconnecting the call.

"She loves me," Helen said, gathering the items to head into the home, praying Passion Fruit and Bryan hadn't killed each other while she was gone.

Chapter 6- Injury

Bryan sat in the chair, feeling colder than he ever had in the entirety of his 42 years on the planet. Regret filled his belly as he thought of the women who had wanted to start a family and bring him onto the path of fatherhood. He didn't want kids. The world wasn't the place to bring children into for other sick minded people to sit around planning how to rob them of their innocence. He saw no reason to do it, and he also saw no reason to spend the rest of his life slaving away to save money for their education, only to have them go off into the world and return home as a single young parent.

He'd seen it in his youth. Young girls, wide-eyed, eager to enter the world to become engaged citizens, only to arrive at a cage match in a college town where they were the prey. Grown men, who had time to perfect methods to stalk, prime, and groom young women for assault, simply because they could, are what he saw at colleges and universities. It didn't matter how many times he stood in front of the classroom, issuing the warning to young freshman women, the words went in one ear and out the other.

No, he saw no need to marry and have children. He didn't want daughters who refused to listen to warnings about going to men's apartments and dorm rooms and accepting drinks from people they don't know. The time-honored warnings to young men also went unheeded, cautioning the chaps that if it feels suspect and she is not looking you in the eye saying yes, then stop what you're doing. If you stop and it goes no further, then you have made a wise choice.

"You don't want to ruin your entire life for three and a half minutes," Bryan would caution the young men.

Again, in one ear and out the other. The sad reality of adding insult to a perilous injury almost appeared ironic as he sat in a cabin, he didn't know where, in a pair of underwear he'd had on for entirely too many days, wrapped in a pink quilt. The quilt was ugly and misshapen, and the threads were coming out of the fabric squares. The fabric reminded him of the quilt his little cousin attempted to make for a home economics class that went ass up. This one was worse, and it smelled like mothballs.

He looked up to find the woman looking at him. The dog was watching him as well. It was a big fucking dog.

Bryan asked, "What's her name?"

"Who? Cranberry?"

Bryan pointed at the dog, "The dog, not the other scary woman."

"Candy the Cane Corso," Passion Fruit said. "What's your name?"

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