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19
Tarnley
Dawn is just breaking when I give up on falling asleep. Leaving Bronywyn breathing softly in her bed, I cross her room and slip out onto the balcony. The warm air of early summer wraps around me like a blanket, and I breathe it in.
Ever since we laid down in an attempt to get some sleep, I’ve been going over the logistics of our plan. I’ll leave the cleaners to Brad—that was an easy enough problem to solve. As far as the bar—that can go to Elijah if he wants it, and if not, I’ll just put the place up for sale.
Hell, maybe I’ll shutter it for good and just keep the property as a holding for another time.
As for my friends, the decision to leave them behind isn’t nearly as upsetting as I thought it would be—mainly because I know they’ll understand. And seeing as how they are perfectly capable of keeping themselves alive, I’m not overly concerned with the outcome of our departure.
Especially since leaving may just keep them safer than us remaining here. After all, it’s us these bastards seem to be after.
Movement out of the corner of my eye catches me off guard. I pretend not to notice the hooded figure as they slip across the lawn, though I track every inch of movement as they come in and out of view.
“Don’t move,” Bronywyn whispers from somewhere behind me, still shielded in her room. “Someone is here.”
In an attempt to let her know I noticed, too, I clear my throat and lean against the railing, attempting to appear completely casual as I do.
“I’m going to slip downstairs. My wards are going off in the direction of the front door.”
I don’t respond, just continue staring out as though I haven’t a care in the world.
Bronywyn slips out of the room, so I stretch and turn away, heading back into the house as casually as possible. It’s only when out of view that I blur down the stairs, past Bronywyn, putting me at the front door first. Ripping it open, I reach out, grab the hooded figure, and yank them inside and pin them against the wall.
The figure squeals.
“Let her go,” Bronywyn says quickly, so I do, stepping back and out of the way as the figure reaches up to remove their hood.
“Deissy? What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see something.” The young woman stands, coughing and rubbing her throat. “You’re fast.”
“Is this what we get for letting you keep your memories?” Bronywyn snaps, crossing her arms.
Deissy’s cheeks flush with embarrassment, turning nearly the same red color as the top of her hair. “I’m sorry. I’m just too pumped. I want to know everything, learn everything. I want to help you guys.”
“Help us with what?”
“The rogue supernaturals.”
I blink. Once. Twice. Three times, and still, every time I open my eyes, she’s still standing there. This petite, human woman who has no business being in this fucking place, to begin with. “I’m sorry,what?” There’s no fucking way I heard her correctly. No fuckingwayshe’s honestly considering helping us. I mean, honestly, she could have sprouted a second head, and I would have been less surprised than I am now.
“I want to help you with the rogue supernaturals. I know I’m not a hunter or anything, but I think I do have something to offer you. Even if you only need me to—”
“You’re a human,” Bronywyn cuts her off. “Supernaturals are just that—super. Enhanced. With abilities beyond your scope of understanding. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Not if I train. Why can’t I be a hunter, too?”
“Because hunters are born that way. They are born with abilities to heal, with enhanced speed…you can’t learn how to have those. You’re either born with them or you’re not.”
“I guess that’s true.” Her face falls for a moment before illuminating once more. “But I could learn to fight. I saw you take out that vampire with a knife.”
“I used magic to stun him long enough to get close,” Bronywyn argues. “You can’t learn magic, Deissy. Just like with the hunter abilities, you—”
“Have to be born with it,” she interrupts. “I get it. It’s just… my entire life, I’ve been told what I cannot do, what I cannot be. Those creatures came into my place, my home away from home. They killed my friend as well as four regulars I saw at least once a week. They attacked my people, and you expect me to do nothing about it?”
“There’s nothing to do,” I tell her. “They’re dead.”
