Page 13 of Secret Origins
“I’ll lop off his head again if that’s the case.” Sheathing my sword, I tugged the hound with me down the street not daring to look at Fenrir, although his gaze burned my skin wherever it touched it. “Mind your own business.”
“You are my business.” Fates help me, but I believed him.
8
Not remembering your past had its perks.
Without being weighed down by whatever had shaped you to be the person you were by that point; you could reinvent yourself. Granted, in my case, I chose to be a killer that did what she needed to do and moved on, but when the predatory instincts were strong, it wasn’t like I have many options.
No one could escape their nature.
Circling around the city with the hound drifting in and out of sight, I was lost in thought until I ended up standing in front of the gates of Forest Lawn cemetery. The tall metal gates loomed above me, the golden lions holding a crest looking ominous as if they were angry that I dared to set foot in a place where humans mourned the loss of life while I handed it out daily. It wasn’t like I hadn’t found myself here before, so they knew the drill. It wasn’t our first rodeo.
As I wrapped my fingers around the twisted metal curls on the locked gates and hauled myself up, I couldn’t stop the shiver crawling over my spine from the encounter with the minotaur and Fenrir. The trepidation that something was coming started just recently, so I wasn’t expecting it to hit as fast as it did. Aware that it must have something to do with all the mess Francesca found herself in, as well as Roberti being his usual asshole self, didn’t make me feel better. At all.
Flinging my legs over the top, I sailed through the air landing crouched on the other side. The only sound apart from a couple of night birds chirping was the thud of my feet hitting the concrete. The hound shifted into a thick shadow, passing through the gates and materializing next to me with an unimpressed look on his face. Unless we were in a fight, he looked just like a Doberman to anyone who saw him. It was much easier to explain a dog than a hound the size of a pony who loved killing as much as I did. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, seeing him look around the dark cemetery as if expecting someone to jump us at any moment. He might like killing a little more than me.
My feet were moving, eating up the space through perfectly tailored lawns and rising monuments, the cloudy sky hiding the beauty of the rolling hills and elegant headstones flush to the ground. That was the pull this place had on me. The mixture of traditional and modern coupled with the tranquility caressing my skin. There was still a light drizzle misting through the air, dampening my skin as I strolled further in until I found myself in front of the Gardens of Contemplation.
Ironic, I knew.
I just couldn’t resist the 360-degree view of the city, the lights blinking at me and flirting with my senses.
There was beauty in death.
Many might not see it as such as they selfishly clung to those around them. It might also be a human thing because their lives were so short in comparison to ours, but to creatures like me with no end in sight, it represented bliss. No more endless decades or centuries blending together until you couldn’t even remember what year it was. No more moving to change names or identities to escape notice.
Peace.
If that was what I wanted, why was I hell bent on staying alive?
I had no answer to that apart from the feeling inside me that I was meant to do something. The problem was, whatever that thing might be, it had been buried along with my memories. Only the need to survive was left like a burning coal in the pit of my stomach. Speaking of which …
Slinking into one of the secluded gardens, I curled my legs under me and plopped on the damp grass. Thank the Fates for leather pants. No one wanted wet underwear rubbing tender skin when they walked. Reaching in my pockets, I pulled out one of the coals I always carried on me along with my phone. The hound stood there for a long moment just staring from my face to the rock in my hand before walking to a more interesting view, I guessed. I rolled the coal around my fingers, the rough surface scraping over my skin. With the mist still drizzling, it left black smears on my pale skin, its energy pulsing and playfully teasing mine.
A pouch of these coals was found in my pocket when I was discovered dumped on the Daywalkers’ doorstep. They tried to take them, but it zapped anyone who tried to oblivion. The only way they could get their hands on them was if I handed them over freely, and I’d only given two away from the time I woke up that day until now. One was to Francesca Drake, and she returned it after she used it to call my presence without understanding the significance of her act. The other was to Fenrir. Before shit went south and I didn’t want to see his face anywhere near me.
He never used it.
Still looking at the coal, I didn’t notice that I was pressing the phone, the screen lighting up until the ring echoed in my ear. If I had been in the right state of mind at the time and not so much of an idiot, I never would’ve pressed the call button. But after the fourth ring, the call was answered and a tense silence stretched uncomfortably from the other side.
“Twice in one day.” The General sounded raspy from sleep. “The situation is either very bad, or you are dying.” When only the night birds chirping around me were his answer, he became more alert. “Where are you, Myst?”
“Do you ever think about dying, General?”
“Coming from you this could be a treat, but I’ll assume you have a different reason for asking,” he said on a sigh, which came after a long stretch of silence where the only thing I heard was the rustling of fabric from the shifting bedsheets in the background.
“I shouldn’t have called.” Pulling the phone away from my ear, I had my thumb poised to end the call.
“Wait!” His shout was muffled through the speaker, and that momentarily froze my actions.
“It’s late, you should sleep.” A halfhearted statement if I’d ever heard one.
“Since I’m awake now, might as well hear what made you call.” A soft chuckle accompanied his words, soothing the uncomfortable feeling pinking my cheeks from the guilt that I woke him up in the middle of the night. “I can’t say it happens often enough. It’s not something I want to miss.”
“In case you want to hold it against me like a vulnerability?” My barked, humorless laughter echoed around me, bouncing off the trees. “Think again, General. I can snuff your life before you have time to realize you are about to meet your maker.”
“All the time.” His softly spoken words caught me off guard enough for me to pull the phone away from his ear so I could frown at it.
