Behind These Refuge Walls

This was the second time since I had moved to Orlando that I woke up in pain and cursing the world like the biggest sailor ever. A sharp knife dug in my side. Invisible enemies threw shards against my temples. I might have had a fever, but the heat could have just as well been a result of my brain’s overriding activity. It seemed as though the second I opened my eyes, wheels went into action, mechanisms were put into motion and soon, my mind was working full speed ahead. What to do, what to do? a small, yet sharp voice wondered.

Then it all came back, like drops of rains splattering on the windows of my soul. Marty hitting me like the world’s favorite punching bag. Ryan chastising me for my lack of focus, attention and dedication. Now I was angry, because I figured that, although he was right on some level, he wasn’t supposed to be patronizing me. Or was he patronizing?

Wood creaked as the door to my room opened and Nathan emerged, wearing his ‘good’ button up shirt and clean jeans – this was the sign that whoever he was on his way to meet was pretty important.

“Good morning.”

“I’ll let you know if it is.”

He smiled softly. Caring and overly understanding, Nathan was. A long moment passed between us, him watching me with a face that lacked judgment, me reveling in my brother’s concern…

Wait, wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around?

I attempted (attempt being the key word) to stand up and when a sole muscle in my body faced tension, I all but collapsed to the ground.

“Feeling good?” Nathan grinned. There went the lack of judgment.

“You know it,” I squeaked. The pain in my ribs and the violent, merciless throbbing in my temple had me gritting my teeth. The ache goaded me, forcing me into the pits of anger.

Nathan saw it all before it even happened. The pillow that I had sent flying in a general direction lost all of its momentum in the boy’s hand. Thus was avoided the smashing of a bedside lamp.

“It’s understandable,” he spoke calmly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. I eyed him skeptically, pondering his sanity and a few thorough curse words. He was ignorant to the look. “You haven’t been in a fight in a year.“

“Fourteen months.”

“See? You can’t seriously believe that training with Gerry as much as you do will have you ready for the arena. You’re not that stupid and nothing can prepare you for a brutal return in the ring against one of the larger opponents. I mean, come on, what was that? Did your pals have a death wish for you?”

I paused mid step, awe struck by the sound of a bell breaking the confines of my darkened mind. Did Donovan want me out of the game? He had never been fond of me, but I had never given him a reason to put me on his black list. No spider wanted me out of the game, because I was supposed to be on their side. Did that change? Was I no longer trustworthy? Had something happened and I was now in (God forbid!) the not so little black book? Donovan had came to see me because he wanted to witness the end result: either I won and was given back my title, status and permission to be left alone (well, sort of), or I lost and faced…what? Dismissal? Death?

I gulped.

Those who were viewed as threats or traitors were killed.

Marty was one of the bigger fish out there. He took no unimportant fights. He had a reason for coming there for me.

Both the Underground’s hit man and a hot shot at the return of an old spider? Was it coincidence? Had I done something wrong?

“Uh oh. Someone’s thinking. Charlie?” Nathan stepped in front of me, arms spread wide, anticipating what? My fall? I wished I could just faint, like every other prima donna.“You look sick.”

Don’t worry, it feels worse than it looks. I could not say that, for it began to sound to me like my whining was close to reaching a boiling point and I could have none of that.

My epiphany was cut short by rapping at the front door. I exchanged a sharp look with Nathan, neither of us pleased with the visitor.

“Weren’t you supposed to meet that friend of yours today?” I questioned.

“I was on my way,” was his answer as he headed for the hallway of our apartment.

The door was opened and my limping, disheveled form was revealed to the world. Or in this case, to the tall, tanned Ryan McCarthy. He graciously balanced a pair of aviators in his right hand, the object earning my appreciative glance. For some reason, I just felt the urge to take a good look at his fitting black t-shirt (and thus, at the muscles on which the material stretched) and simple jeans, before shooting him the mother of all glares. In reply, he stared at me concerned.

“Good morning.”

“If you insist.” My voice came out raspy. I blamed it on the disconcerting pain in my chest. Nathan eyed the young man with a raised eyebrow, then glanced at me with an inquiring nod. Should I worry about kicking him out or should I worry about leaving him alone with you? he seemed to ask. “This is Nathan.”

“Ryan.” The two shook hands rather hastily, after which Ryan turned to me. “You need to have someone look at that.”

Guessing his hand was pointed at my throbbing temple, I glared viciously.

“I want to talk to you.” He proceeded to discretely look between Nathan and I with a ‘shouldn’t he be somewhere?’ kind of gaze. I rarely approved of people acting like that around Nate and now was no difference. Nathan, to his defense, showed no sign of understanding the subtle message, nor did he make a move to leave.

“Charlie said no to being in touch with people for a reason,” the youngest Sanders spoke.

“What do you want?” I instantly shot to Ryan, aiming for my stance fierce, but managing a ‘stick up my ass’ posture.

He sighed, entering my apartment fully with an apologetic look on his face. Why the look, I understood not. “How are you feeling?”

That did it. “Are you fucking serious?” At first, he seemed shocked. Then, on a second thought, his face turned into a frown. “You’re here to treat me like a crippled kid? For Christ's sake, I’ve been through worse and quite frankly, the only problem I have are overreacting idiots.” Not true. To that list I might have added a crushed ribcage, smashed forehead and dizziness. But all such information was not needed.

“Do your parents know what happened to you?” At this, two pairs of typically brown Sanders eyes were fixed on him. Staring. Wondering. Worrying. “Charlie, I just need to talk to you. I’m not looking for a fight, I just need to clear up some things with you. That’s all.”

Nathan let out a growl that I hadn’t known him capable of before he slung his bag over his shoulder. “Deal with him,” was all he said. He was angry, but not angry enough to forget about the good-bye hug that had entered our reflexes.

Nathan walked out, Ryan walked in all too eagerly. Then he smiled widely at me and for the shortest of stunning seconds, it felt as if it was just two old friends standing in a simple hallway, with no worries or problems, no time pressing them or anger confining their inner feelings. Two old friends who had long lost touch and were now ready to catch up.

“You look up and ready for ‘em."

"Here to babysit me, Ryan?" I instantly retorted, missing his lighthearted joke.

He frowned, placed his aviators on my counter while sighing sadly and sat on one of the chairs. Had someone told me Ryan was capable of such seriousness, I would have laughed my ass off. But sitting in front of me was the strangest sight: Ryan had an air of tragedy around him - a creepy thing, that had my spine straighten in a second. He looked stuck within his thoughts, confused about something and frustrated by my lack of cooperation.

"I don't get it," he put it simply.

"Get what?"

"Where are your parents?" he questioned abruptly, raising his head to look at me sternly. "You're not living with them. Pretty big thing on your side. You get mad because I'm trying to help you, you--"

"You're not trying to help me, you're trying to babysit me! I am fine, I've been through fights before! I made one mistake, so sue me!"

He stood up. "Really, Charlie, who are you?"

"I, uh..." The reaction to his abrupt question came in the form of a step back, a mouth opening and closing with no words to release and eyes looking around in shock. What kind of question was that? "I don't..."

"Really. I know you quit fighting a year or so ago. Jinx is supposedly one big hot shot in The Underground. Why did you quit? Why were so against the idea of coming back? I forced you into a first fight, while taking the responsibility for your well being after that. Did you not realize that? I didn't do it to get you in some deep shit, I was just trying to make sure they don't send hit men after you."

Silence. Shock towards his concern for me. Distaste towards his concern for me. Appreciation for his concern for me.

"I quit because I was forced. I didn't want to go back because it just wasn't that easy."

"Why not?"

"Because some people don't want me back!"

"Fine," he said, his tone calm, almost friendly. He paused, breathing slightly, then... "Do you like fighting?"

The frown etched on my face diminished once the little voice inside my head warned me of his peaceful blue eyes. "It's what I'm good at."

He nodded vehemently, biting his lip and staring at the floor while leaning against the counter. "Me too. But I didn't have much of a choice in finding out if I had any other...hidden talents."

I didn't know whether to quirk my eyebrow at him, watch him skeptically, scoff, or bark at him. I settled for a blank stare.

"You know, I haven't been in the illegal fights for very long, so I wasn't really sure of who Jinx was until I began digging for some information. And you know what, Charlie? I don't know if you're a coward or if you're simply trying to stay out of other people's games."

"I just told you..." Frustrated, I sighed. "I don't have to explain this to you." Then why are you still talking? "Because of some things that happened in my life, I had to give up fighting. Then, I found out that going back in the arena would piss off a few important people."

"Like your parents?" I couldn't help it. I stared. He smiled knowingly, crossing his arms over his chest. "You did what, move out with your brother and then they threatened that if you misbehaved they'd sabotage you?"

Bastard!

"Yeah, something like that." A nod, again, before I snapped into reality. "Why would The Underground send hit men after me?"

His face turned business-like in an instant. "There's a rumor around that The Underground is going to split in half. Nothing's happened yet, but there are some people walking around, spreading rumors about how the old spiders of the network are going to be taken out and stuff. Everyone's in a buzz, trying to find out who the rats are. You left abruptly, why wouldn't you be a good candidate for the rat position?"

"So I'm under the specter right now."

He nodded. "But if they really would have considered you a traitor, Donovan would have off-ed you last night. No questions asked. So I'm guessing you have some loyalty up for the highly positioned spiders."

"That I do," I muttered while staring out the window.

"Charlie."

"Yeah?"

"I really think you're something special." Turning to him, I only faced honesty. "Your only problem is that you don't like people to know."

Slowly, hesitating, I nodded. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, there was polite knocking on the door - though slightly demanding. I don't know what I expected to happen when I opened the door to see Michael, but I most definitely hadn't expected Ryan's face to whiten at the sight of the newcomer and the vampire tense, eyes wide, as if ready to lunge at the boy behind me.

"Michael!" was my shrieked greeting, taken aback by the tension that had come out of nowhere. He looked white, even paler than he normally was and he looked stuck between attacking and trying to figure out something.

Ryan looked shocked, but had his fists clenched at his sides, ready to fight. "Didn't know you were expecting someone, Charlie," came his strained voice.

"Michael and I have a match to attend, but I'll see you at school." Not exactly the most diplomatic peacemaker, I tried to diffuse the situation by standing between them in nothing but track pants and a tank top.

Ryan's face turned stone as he turned to frown at me. "Cool. I'll see you around then. I'm glad we had the chance to talk, you know."

The two avoided each other by miles, pressing against each side of the door in order to prevent touching from happening. All the while, they glared daggers at each other. Michael looked deadly, his eyes darkening with every second. And he was still. So still that I was afraid to touch him. If I did, I think he might have attacked me. So I didn't move (my pained body approving thoroughly of that) until his eyes finally narrowed - the first move he had made.

"Good morning," I breathed.

That made him turn to look at me entirely, confused frown not leaving his face. "You're hurt." Holy shit, he's good! He put two and two and the confusion turned into the first signs of anger that I had first seen on Michael. "Did he touch you?"

"No! No, it's not like that! I practice martial arts."

"It's worse than martial arts."

Suddenly remembering that I was facing a vampire, I froze. "Please, there's a lot of explanation and I have to get changed and I can't keep you in the hallway forever."

He glanced at the door frame, a light smile playing on his lips - a smile that, however, did not reach his eyes. "I need an invitation."

Initially, I just stared at him. Then I started laughing, weirded out by my own weirdness (if that was even possible). He enjoyed my small outburst, because finally, his eyes lost all of their darkness.

"Right...uh, how do you do this? Do I just say come in? Come on in."

It made him laugh as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. I watched him as he took in the sight of my apartment, all the while frowning at his back. What was his deal with Ryan?

"Well, good morning," he started suddenly, his voice sounding reinvigorated and amused by himself. "Was that a...friend of yours?" he then cautiously wondered.

"A classmate. He's not...I mean, it's not what it looks like."

Bemused, he looked at me. "And what does it look like?"

"Well, you know...a guy in a girl's apartment on a Saturday morning...the two of them all alone..." I was no master of eloquence. "Michael, what was that?"

His smile faded, face melting into concern. "I...I'm not very sure. I might have sensed something, but never mind that."

"Have you two met before?"

He frowned, trying to recall. "No, I think I would have remembered." Jealous much? "What happened to you?"

Right. I had a visible cut on my forehead and bruises on my shoulder. But what to tell him? I I didn't realize until he quirked his eyebrow of my fatal mistake: my pause had given me away and we both knew it.

"The truth would be a nice thing. Please note that you can never lie to vampires and werewolves. We'll sense it instantly."

"Lovely." My smile was cut short and awkward. "I...I took part in a fight."

"I see." The thoughtful look on his face told me that he, indeed, see. "But it was no ordinary fight."

"Mno..."

He sighed. "I was in the room when Janice called you last night. Whatever it was that happened to you, it happened before her call. You look less pained, but your head is hurting, as are your ribs and shoulder. Charlotte, who hurt you?"

"I told you: I practice martial arts."

The piercing stare he gave me told me he would buy none of that shit. However, he had no time to press on, as I rapidly took off for my bedroom. If taking a shower seemed like a light obstacle (the drops of hot water turned into needles against my bruises), dressing was most definitely worse. I kept my breath through putting on a t-shirt and jeans and completely gave up on socks. No way in hell was I capable of bending my stomach muscles. Thus, I slipped in my Vans with as much laziness as I could muster.

Michael was silent as he waited for me to lock my apartment. He was wary as he opened the car door for me and he turned down right frustrated once we neared Massey Academy.

"I strongly disapprove of this," he warned. The metal gates were now a few meters ahead of us. "You are wounded and you are hiding the reason of those wounds. I will have one of the fairies look at that as soon as--"

"No!" He didn't flinch; he'd been expecting my outburst. "Please stop making such a fuss out of it, because I am fine. I don't need a bunch of strangers to know whatever it is I'm doing in my spare time." Cue strong inhale.

A long pause came and went.

"I think Janice may have told you about the Protégée situation." His voice was hesitant, as were his eyes, that also harbored regret.

Suddenly, my mood faltered. "Yeah, I heard."

"This is no one's fault. It's simply...a matter of us trying to put up some defensive walls. But I think you understand exactly what that is like." Seeing my protesting face, he shook his head. "And I am also no stranger of that, either. But I do believe we will be able to fix this. I truly am sorry, though."

"It's okay."

He seemed unconvinced, but once the engine's noise died down, a long sigh came out of the vampire's mouth.

"I'll have you know that I'll be watching you." Opening his eyes and taking a good look at me, a well mannered sparkle took over his eyes. "Now, you were invited to a football game, in case Janice failed to tell you. We're playing against another private school in Florida."

"Are the other team vampires and stuff, too?"

He looked amused. "No, they're not vampire and stuff. They're very human and very arrogant. They've lost three times in front of us. Still, they come back for more."

We walked past the main building and dorms and headed over to the large football field, where plenty of silhouettes darkened the benches and cast shadows on the grass. Noise reached my ears.

"Yeah, well, they don't have super speed and inhuman strength on their side, do they?"

"Mind you, us vampires aren't very fond of football. That and Vallin specifically said that it would be cheating if our team had even one vampire in it while playing against humans."

"So who's playing?"

He grinned, fangs revealed. "See for yourself."

The loud chanting, singing, laughter and whatnot was much like a tornado of noises that I could hardly decipher. It was the typical atmosphere that you'd see at a football match...if you paid no mind to bald midgets selling t-shirts, extremely hairy guys who were practicing their howling at the moon, groups of tall, lanky students who looked and talked as if all was ever so tragic and everyone around them was ever so stupid, or blurs of colors that, when frozen in one place, took the shapes of porcelain skinned creatures with the grace of felines.

Then there were the extremely sensual girls who could put Paige or Danielle to shame. They had curves and everything else and their low, seductive chuckles directed at the males around the field sounded like pulled out of a dream.

Some of the players were gathered on the field. The visitors wore blue equipment, whereas Massey had black and red football equipment. They had their numbers engraved in black on their backs, along with their names and the symbol of an M overlapping an A.

"Charlie!" The welcoming shout was accompanied by an awkward hug, seeing as I was in no mood to offer pleasantries. Janice looked at me strangely, not quite figuring what was wrong, but not dumb enough to overlook it. "What's wrong?"

"Horrible back ache." Michael's hand found my shoulder - cold, strong fingers carried worries, but I shook them off.

"Is our team ready yet, Janice?"

"I think so. You should go check on them. Come on, Charlie, I want to introduce you to some people."

Uh oh, was my coherent thought once she placed me in front of a group of students.

"I'm telling you, that potion lacked strength!"

"Guys, this is stupid."

"Hello everyone! This is my good friend, Charlie!" Janice announced loud enough for several other heads around us to turn our way.

A petite girl in a baggy green dress that hung loose around her shook her head wildly, red curls bouncing around on their own accord. "Oh, the weird Stratford kid. Hi, I'm Maureen. Member of the Green Grass Association. Witch. I like green stuff. Did you know that a one meter rise in sea level would displace about seven million people in India?"

She smiled brightly, revealing a set of frighteningly perfect pearly whites. Her long and rather tangled hair flew around her as the wind blew and in one short moment I saw sparkles around her shoulders. She had big eyes that looked ever so creepy on her, though I made no comment on that. Full lips were turned into a pleasant smile.

Behind her, several other students were watching me with curious faces. A man in his twenties, wearing a pink polo shirt and white dress pants, associated with same colored shoes looked at me in scrutiny. He had short caramel hair, carefully combed and a clean face with almond-shaped eyes. He looked at me dramatically, a question in his eyes, ready to humiliate me.

"That is so a Calvin Klein jacket!" I blinked once, then twice, then opened my mouth to reply to his astounded tone, but nothing came out. So I settled for a humble, though determinate 'Yes'. "Now, I have no idea how you got your hands on that thing, but darling, you and I must definitely have a chat about it." He had a very soft voice, dramatic and rather high pitched, but otherwise friendly. "Nikoli Vertis, grand noble of the fairy race." With that, he extended a long arm and I shook hands with him.

Suddenly, the simple black leather jacket made me feel a lot more confident.

"Really, Niko, is that the only thing you can thing about?" a younger girl with strawberry blond hair asked dully. I remembered her instantly, the girl who had been Paige's target for humiliation at the mall. Now, she looked just as careless, too caught up in playing with her phone to see us.

"Charlie, this is Mimi, our wonderful elf friend."

She looked out of her place among Janice and the other ones, Mimi's thin, frail figure radiating pureness. She was the only elf who wasn't with her kind in a large group. An outcast, perhaps?

A very energetic sophomore was bouncing up and down in the back rows, cheering for his team. He wore brightly colored clothes, yellow shorts and a neon green t-shirt. Too mature features caught my eyes - eyes that looked to have seen too many things thus far, thin lips and not so 'pinch-me-cute' dimples.

In the front rows, a red haired woman caught my eye. I had to to look twice to convince myself that she was real. She looked pulled out of a Victoria's Secret commercial, if not better. She was tall, but then again, she seemed to be wearing heels, too. A tight top, next to a pair of shorts that revealed long legs made every boy around her stare. Her long hair moved around with her every move as she laughed with her friends. I noticed her throw short glances towards the edge of the field. Standing up on my toes as discretely as possible, I saw Vallin, his hands behind his back as he focused on the teams in front of him. But the woman's eyes weren't on the old man, but at a figure with wide shoulders, loose fitting jeans and a simple white t-shirt. Stone stood there stiff, eyes set ahead of him, blending in with the surroundings.

A muscle in his shoulder suddenly rippled and with one swift move, he turned to the crowd, eyes scrutinizing it. He didn't look long, because the second he had turned around, the woman in front was already yelling his name, revealing a very sultry voice.

In the seat before me stood a lanky guy with long black hair caught in a ponytail and tanned skin. He waved his hands around enthusiastically, causing me to duck a few times in order to avoid being slapped.

I didn't miss the curious looks some eighteen year olds were giving me, but what scared me was the flash of recognition passing in some of their eyes. What the hell?

The referee blew his whistle. Shouted orders flew around the field before the ball flew from hand to hand and then the players began running in various directions.

I didn't have to think about the general opinion of the people around me, because by the second touchdown, I was shouting slogans with Janice and Nikoli. And I began having fun amongst strangers. The pain in my ribs was no longer the subject of my attention. So excited I had become, that I even made a mental note of attending one of my school's football games.