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21
NIYAH
Ilook up just in time. Something, I can’t make out what, drops from the opposite roof coming right at Bhoja. I don’t bother trying to formulate words instead letting out a scream and pointing. Even so, I’m still too slow.
The dark shape slams into Bhoja and knocks him into the wall. I hear his head crack on the stone and it’s so loud that my stomach lurches in revulsion. A sympathetic pain hits in the back of my own head. Desperate I look around for some way to help.
As I do I hear more footsteps running then two more Urr’ki appear from around the corner. I see them even as I scan for a weapon. They have a desperate, hungry look. The kind of people you avoid at all cost in the best of situations. If only that was an option.
Bhoja roars and grabs one of them by the shirt, jerking him close. As he does I my eyes light onto a length of metal. I don’t know what it was, but it’s going to be a club. I run down the alley and grab it. Gripping it in both hands I spin around, weapon at the ready.
Three Urr’ki surround Bhoja. Fists and clubs swing back and forth in a blur. I hear blows landing but in the confusion I can’t make out who is hitting who. The one thing I know is that three on one is impossible odds and I must help.
None of the attackers are paying attention to me and I take full advantage of that fact. Keeping close to the opposite wall I slide along until I’m behind one of them. I tighten my grip on the makeshift club and lift it over my head. I’m surprised by how heavy it is when I raise it.
I take a step forward and swing down throwing all I my weight and strength behind it. The metal bar cracks onto the head of the Urr’ki. I hit him so hard that the bar bends. Wordless he drops. The Urr’ki on his left looks over his shoulder and his eyes widen. He growls and reaches one massive hand for me but I dance out of his reach.
As I distract him Bhoja grabs his arm. He yelps his surprise, turning to face Bhoja but it’s too late. Bhoja bodily throws him into the other one. The two of them slam against each other and they both drop to the ground groaning.
Bhoja is taking no chances and I’m glad of it. He gives each one of them a solid kick to the head and then they are silent. He steps over the pile of bodies and crouches low so he can look under my hood.
“Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine,” I answer, but my voice quavers and I’m trembling no matter how hard I try to make it stop.
“Good. Good,” he says, placing his hand on my shoulder he slides it down then grips my arm.
It’s a reassuring grip and I draw strength from it. I have never committed violence like that before. I feel a little sick but there is no time for such indulgences. I swallow the bile trying to rise up my throat and stand up straight.
“I’m okay,” I say.
He frowns but nods taking my hand in his and we continue the journey. My head is really spinning and I keep having to force myself to focus, but there is no denying the feelings that are blossoming in my heart.
I thought it was only lust. Bhoja is sexy. Alien and exotic, but by any standard a good looking guy. But this isn’t only sex on my brain. The more the danger increases, the more I realize about him. It’s as if I’m watching him come alive. What I first met was a shell of a man, resigned to a dark fate, but he’s rescued me from threats, real and perceived, more than once. And every time he does it’s like I see more of him. The real him.
And I like what I see. A lot.
He’s protective. Caring. Attentive. Every time his first concern is me. Am I okay. He’s the one who just had his head cracked against a stone wall, but all he is worried about is me. I feel selfish and more than a bit stupid but there can be no denying the way he is making me feel.
I care. A lot.
Too much, perhaps. Is this all some adrenaline junkie reaction? How can I tell if these are real feelings or only some dumb chemicals pumping into my head and heart?
Focus Niyah. Focus.
He’s moving us as fast as I can go through a maze of alleys. I cannot lose him because there is no way I could ever find my way back to his house. I don’t know for sure but I’m pretty sure that we’ve gone in a circle. More or less.
No matter. My job right now, self-assigned but no less my job for that, is to help watch. Now that I know their trick of dropping from above I am constantly scanning the rooftops. I have to admit that was clever. Neither of us had been looking up.
Bhoja slows down and comes to a stop. Ahead of us is one of the main streets. The crowd of people moving past is both scary and welcoming. It’s much harder to be seen in a crowd but that’s a lot of people, especially if we’re being looked for. Which we don’t know. Yet.
Bhoja looks over his shoulder and our eyes meet. His soulful eyes cause a jolt that hits right into my heart. I raise my hand, wanting, no needing to touch him. I stroke my fingers along his arm then drop my arm and let the cloak cover me over again. A smile plays across his lips, the corners twitching, then he looks back at the street.
“Stay close,” he says.
“Always.”
He takes my hand and we merge into the moving crowd. The press of people is claustrophobic. It’s hard to breathe and I can’t help but imagine every stray glance is an accusation. My shoulders knot and the hair on back of my neck is standing on end.
