Behind These Refuge Walls

James needed help.

That was all I could understand from his rant.

"Tell me you're not serious," I began, "when you're saying that you want me to act as your informant from The Underground." Then, giving up my reasonable calm, I exploded: "What fucking business have you with illegal fighting?! Do you, by any chance, want me to die?"

I sat at my kitchen table across from James, arms folded in front of me to prevent me from strangling the tall boy. He watched me warily, tensed in his seat, hands in his lap.

"I told you: this is Vallin's business."

"Then by definition, not yours."

"You don't understand, Jinx. They're stuck. And I mean incredibly stuck. So stuck that they don't even know which way to look anymore. And it's really important."

"No, what you don't understand, James, is that I'm already treading on thin ice as it is."

"Exactly! Come on, warrior princess, you can't tell me you're not going to investigate that stuff about you being considered a liability. This way, you're shooting two rabbits with one bullet."

Silence ensued. By that point, I was starting to lose my patience with him. By that point, I really wanted to tell him to get a life. But I wasn't going to say anything bad to him. I wasn't going to make fun of him, hit him, humiliate--

"You're trying to look good in front of Janice."

He went pale, eyes wide in my direction. "Don't be like that."

"You are not part of Stone's team," - for some odd reason, it felt that by just saying his name, there was the imminent danger of him appearing (kind of like the devil, only worse) - "and therefore, you are not entitled to interfere with their operations - operations that, as I have been informed, are pretty fucking dangerous - and yet you're here asking me to be a rat."

"Fine, be like that. This isn't about me!" James' face contorted with frustration. "This...thing is really important. The outcome of this operation concerns the fate of all supernaturals. We need help."

My brows furrowed, curiosity rising. The soberness in James' eyes made the following silence even more stressful.

"Fill me in with what you know so far." That was as far as an affirmative response as he was going to get. "Whatever information you pass on, I stay anonymous."

The cups on the table made little noise as James placed them in the sink. The wooden chair, however, screeched loudly against the floor as he placed himself right beside me. He proceeded to setting a paper on the table. I faced an array of quick taken notes and indecipherable hand writing.

"I took a sneak peek in Vallin's files during this Saturday's game. You'd be surprised how empty the school was at that point." He wasn't excited about the whole ordeal, I realized as I inspected his face. Instead, there was unsuspected responsibility etched across his features. He sighed, searching for words from his page. "Human traffic. Well, not so much human as supernatural. They capture supernaturals, then sell them for money...or they sell organs or anything else of that kind. For example, fairy wings are estimated at about..." He pointed at a number on the page. "...two grand. Vampire or werewolf fangs are estimated for twenty to fifty grand, depending on the age of the 'specimen'...Witches are sold as pure slaves for more than half a million dollars. Shape shifters are forced into their animal forms and stuck like that so they can make good pets...."

And he kept going and going with estimations, numbers and sinister costs of organs under my wide eyes and scarred ears. The more he said, the sicker I felt. I'd heard about business like this. It was a common thing. It was what the black market truly meant, but I had never once been exposed to such gruesome details.

I grabbed James' hand to stop his rant. "So they know about supernaturals?"

"Most of the sellers and kidnappers obviously do, but you can imagine that they don't reveal the fact that there are vampires, fairies and demons out there. It wouldn't help them anyhow. People would either start protect us or steal their business."

My stomach constricted and the first thing that crossed my mind was the image of Janice in chains and forced to do whatever some perverted old man wanted her to. Tears running down her pale cheeks.

"Who the hell would buy this stuff?" The word choice was more than unfortunate.

James looked at me, a constant pained determination present in his eyes. "Politicians. World-known doctors. Selfish people who are looking for a way to avoid sicknesses, prolong their life, gain powers - though many temporary. Selfishness. Ignorance. The biggest illnesses humanity is exposed to."

"And this...business is spreading," I concluded angrily, reading off James' notes.

He nodded. For a while, we just stayed there, both of us supporting our chins with our hands and spacing out in anger. We waited in silence - for what, I didn't know. There was nothing I could say; I was still in complete shock and disgust.

"How..." I paused, rethinking my question. "How am I supposed to start? Where do I...I don't know."

"Vallin has names. Names that are in strong connection with The Underground." He passed me the paper. "I didn't manage to get all of them, but these seemed to be the most important. They also had pictures of these guys...do you need those, too?"

The burning sensation at the back of my neck ceased the coming of any words out of my mouth. It started the second I saw the first two names on the list. I shook my head to form a negative answer. I knew those people, alright.

Abdul Azim is the suck-up; king of oil distribution. In his eyes, Lawrence and Robert are blessed by Allah. In Arabic, 'Abdul Azim' means 'servant of the Mighty' and thus, Abdul thinks that he is serving Allah by doing whatever the other two want him to.

Robert Oswell. Tall, dark and handsome, Robert makes the ladies swoon with a single flick of his finger. Luring them in his bed comes easy, throwing them out the next day is even easier. Because they're either dead or stoned. He's one of the many marketing gurus with plenty of numbers blocking their accounts, while wiggling their tails around the big boss. Born and raised in Orlando. Head of The Underground cartel here. A 'local celebrity', if you will, but he almost never leaves his hiding places without his bodyguards. Apparently he was the snake in charge of the illegal operations in Orlando and the supernatural slavery business brought him plenty of admiration and money from all over the country.

Of Lawrence Winsloe I knew very little, aside from the obvious - he was the right hand of the man in charge of the entire Underground. But if anything was going on, he had to be the one pulling the strings of the puppets.

But to reach them is hard. Not hard. Borderline impossible. How could a meaningless fighter get to the boss?

But I'm not exactly meaningless, am I?

"Hell-o! Earth to Charlie!"

A hand was being waved in front of me, slowly, methodically, gentle with my handicapped, overloaded mind.

"What?" came the instant growl.

Janice yawned; Jake shrugged. "You seem out of it. Danielle's been glaring at you. Don't look....Charlie, I told you not to look...Oh, there you go, you looked."

Danielle regarded me coolly; I showed no sign of noticing her, although my gaze was fixed on the athletic girl.

"Hey, Jake, there's French bimbo. Go say hi," Janice ordered whilst picking at her tasteless salad. I expected Jake to come up with a reply, but once again, the man astounded me. He stood up, tucked his tail between his legs and walked over to his crush. "What's with the bruises?"

"You asked me that question three times during the football match and I told you, I tripped." She glowered. "Fine, allow me to try a different approach. It. Doesn't. Concern you."

The thing about Janice was, she was immune to my bitch moments. I never understood how she managed, but I had my theory that one could stab Janice with a knife and her sole reaction would be a glare.

"You could have just played weak and lose the fight. Why didn't you?"

A moment of staring at each other. Another of me leaning in. "Because I like what I do."

And then she dropped the subject with a shrug. Max all but catapulted himself in the seat between us, an excruciatingly pleased grin plastered to his face. He glanced at Janice, poked her, then grabbed her phone and began dancing around. Unlike myself, Max can bring forth the wrath of a witch, which was why blue hair bounced around as she jumped him.

"From Ry-Man," he simply said while throwing me a piece of paper before running from Janice.

I'm at the warehouse tomorrow night. Care to join?

He was sitting with his usual group of jocks, laughing, flirting and smirking like his usual arrogant self. But he was looking around like an eagle. Not so much around as at me. He stole lazy glances of me, yet no one noticed because he did it with so much casualty that it stunned me. Oh, he was good.

Steadily, he caught my gaze, his eyes holding the same question as the paper. I nodded almost unnoticeable, but he seemed to catch on. The next thing I knew he was smirking and eying me up and down.

With a huff that was meant to let him know he was being a jerk, I turned away. Oddly enough, I was looking forward to seeing him out of school, because out there, Ryan The Cocky Bastard was just Ryan, the illegal fighter.

After another day of putting up with the rumor mill, I visited Gerry, this time Nate deciding that he should tag along. Of course, Ger could not have been happier to lay eyes on the youngest Sanders, thus giving me some time alone.

Then came the dreaded time to accompany Janice to Massey. Dreaded might have been an exaggeration, given that I was starting to like Massey's campus. No surprise there. Who wouldn't like the enormous campus of a luxurious private school?

Yes, the environment was lovely. The people inhabiting it were not.

"Move out of my fucking way, mutt!"

"What'd you call me, Fangs?"

"You deaf, too?"

"Knock it off, you two, or I'll turn you both into teacups!"

Intrigued, I turned to Janice. "Is that possible?"

She nodded, seemingly proud of a witch's capacities and returned to avoiding the area where a boy with broad shoulders, short hair and a ripped t-shirt and jeans was breathing heavily, hunched in front of a smirking girl who looked a lot younger than him (maybe thirteen?). The pale skin she bore was an instant reminder of Michael - that is, if the fangs glistening in the sunlight didn't catch your eye before you admired her skin.

Between them stood a woman, hands on her hips and eyes blazing. Her short red hair had begun to lose its color and vivacity, white streaks catching my notice. A pair of small, rectangular glasses covered her eyes and she wore a long flowery skirt and a simple shirt, a motherly air everywhere around her.

"That's my aunt." My attention averted to Janice, I frowned. Well, yes, the two did seem to have the seem thin lips and rosy cheeks, but they didn't look alike that much.

"Jan-Jan, my little girl!"

"Auntie S!"

No, they did resemble. A lot.

Sylvia wrapped a set of frail arms around the teenager and smiled widely. Janice, on the other hand, began to lose enthusiasm shortly after she'd returned the hug. She was one to get bored easily.

"Now who is this beautiful young lady?"

It took me a good five seconds to realize she was addressing me and another five to turn around and fully face her, my cheeks a glorious shade of pink. The good side of the situation was that she didn't seem to be insulted by my slow mind.

I shook her hand and shrieked. Slow dots of electricity continued to pinch my insides. Sylvia gasped and did a circular move with the hand that I had grabbed. My body lost the slivers of electricity, but instead came a great wave of discomfort and tension. That and I had just gotten extremely angry at her.

"Sylvia!"

"Oh, I am so sorry, child. Janice, go get her some water. Darling, are you alright?"

"Fine," I grumbled, giving her the evil eye, then frowned as I caught sight of her expression turning from worry to shock and to a final mixture of relief and confusion.

"You can move, yes?"

"Yes," I all but growled and shook off her arms from my shoulders. Then, for the sake of the conversation, I turned to her. "What did I do?"

Confused, then amused. "Oh, darling, you didn't do anything." She frowned, then mused to herself, "Or did you?"

Just as the I withdrew in the main building, trying to make my way through the masses of strange students with Sylvia on my heels, Janice placed herself in front of me. I hit the brakes, did a one eighty and glared.

"Excellent news, my lovelies," came an uniquely effeminate voice next to Janice. Nikoli smiled lazily as he took in my appearance. "Now what happened to you?"

What now, I even looked like an electrocuted rat?

"She came in contact with my aura," Sylvia rushed to explain, as she threw me concerned glances.

Nikoli drew back, watching me in surprise. "And she's standing?"

"I...I'm not sure I've seen anything like it before."

I turned to Janice in annoyance, only to see her staring at me strangely. Great.

"Don't worry, darling, you look great," Nikoli told me with a roll of his eyes. "Unfortunately."

My eyebrows shot up under my bangs, whereas Janice started laughing.

"Don't mind him. He's just scared of a little competition."

We followed Nikoli as he strutted towards the gym. "At what?"

"Getting guy's numbers," came the sly reply.

A lean guy around my age passed us with his two friends, doing a double take over me. He wiggled his eyebrows; the other two laughed. He raised his hand and right above him, air seemed to thicken and all sorts of forms played under my eyes. Then, finally, transparent numbers arranged themselves in the specific order of a phone number.

"Hey, doll!"

Nikoli huffed in front of us. "She's not interested, you dickhead!" he yelled just as I turned around smirk at the boy and wiggled my eyebrows. The result: they began howling and high-fiving each other with a vigor unknown to man.

Janice smiled knowingly at her aunt, who shook her head with a smile.

"What exactly was it you were going to tell us, Niko?"

The fairy seemed momentarily confused, then his memory took over. "Oh, right. The sophomores have gym right now. Vallin thinks the human should join them and see what's going on there."

'The human' happened to feel thoroughly insulted by Nikoli's behaviour, though I didn't try to let it see.

The gym. Well, hell, it didn't deserve to be called a gym when in fact, it looked like a...well, what did it look like? In principle, on the outside, the building looked like pulled out of a Gothic novel, but on the inside, the main part of it was enormous, bigger than the interior of a warehouse. It held tons of obstacles, blue mattresses specially designed for combat, ropes in a far end, specially designed walls for climbing and overall, better stuff than I had seen in Gerry's gym. Granted, Ger didn't teach classes of thirty kids everyday, nor did he have unlimited funds.

I was in awe. Mouth opened, eyes wide, head tilted upwards, pure and utter awe.

A class of sophomores was patiently waiting on the benches by the walls, chatting amongst themselves. I spotted a group of girls holding their hands upwards and handling various balls of fire, water and what looked like...powder? They were pretty, thin bodies and enticing eyes, and that fact did not go unnoticed by their male classmates, who glanced at them ever so often.

They didn't look like normal kids, that was for sure. Just by looking at them you felt like you were being placed in front of something greater. I wondered if they were aware of the effect they had on other people.

"Alright, class, gather up!"

I jumped at the familiar voice. Looking around, I spotted Janice in the bleachers. With a curt nod in Nikoli's direction, who was already heading in the direction of Liam, I followed Janice's aunt and sat down. The students were already giving us weary glances, probably irked by the amount of viewers.

Liam was smirking from ear to ear, mouthing something to the guy beside him, trying to catch his attention. The latter, however, was untouched. A man in his late twenties, a head taller than Liam and thus, a hell of a lot taller than me, with arms the width of my neck and shoulders broad enough to cover a fridge, the surly newcomer did not look friendly. He had brown hair in a buzz cut, thin lips, drawn-in cheeks and a set of hard brown eyes.

"Ivan Gagarin," Janice told me. "Very old Earth demon. Not someone you wanna mess with."

"Now, now, Janice, Ivan is quite a great man," Sylvia scolded. "He's a teddy bear deep inside." Somewhere really, really, really deep inside.

Heavy footsteps. In a casual stroll, Stone walked in, equipped in track pants and wife beater and propped himself beside Ivan. You didn't know which one to look at, both massive and radiating intimidation. Yup, they looked like best buddies. Nikoli turned his back to the bleachers and seemed to be whispering something to Ivan and Stone and within a second, a set of steely eyes were locked on my position. I froze under the scrutiny and felt my insides churn from stress. The gym wasn't big enough anymore. It only lasted a second or so, but I'll be damned if it didn't feel like an eternity.

"Do all of them have to be here?" I found myself asking (and praying that the answer would be 'no').

Sylvia, with rectangular glasses shining in the light, nodded. "Today, yes. This class has monthly tests. This being one of the very few classes Stone teaches, he obviously has to be here. Ivan is the official combat teacher in the school, he takes up most of the forms and Liam...well, Vallin tries not to let Liam get involved too much, seeing as he tends to do things a little more...different."

As in perverted. "And Nikoli?"

"Oh, he teaches gymnastics, actually, but has a black belt in martial arts and quite truthfully, someone who fights like him is definitely a good addition to the school. He fights like a snake, you see."

I didn't see it start. I don't know how it happened and I don't know what happened, but I heard the resonating sound of a thud, then the boy tried to gather his pieces and take a stand in front of Stone. The latter stood relaxed. His body showed no signs of this being a fight, but his eyes urged the teen to do something, act already.

The boy threw a kick that ended up being caught in a death grip. He threw himself at Stone, the man let go, easily slid behind the kid's back.

And then it ended as quick as it had begun, the sophomore lying on his back and gritting his teeth, Stone tensing his fists.

I was in shock. But not in bad shock. More like 'wow, when I grow up I wanna be like Stone' kind of shock. Which was why later that day, I began describing things to Nathan with great accuracy, like a child given his favorite candy. Because it grew more amazing with each fight. You couldn't anticipate his move. And he didn't work his way around his enemy, he just hit and never missed an inch. And he knew what the opponent was going to do - I could tell that by just seeing his hard gaze.

They used the obstacles and decorations, too. They jumped over rails and stumbled across holes in the floor. And all the while I stared.

And each idiot fell harder than the other. But they didn't fail. No, apparently Stone graded each student well and according to him (although none of them managed to even touch him), they were all pretty good and worthy enough to pass (well, no, there were some failures here and there, but still...). It was quite funny, really, to watch an idiot take a slam and then get the thumbs up. Liam and Ivan made corrections every once in a while. Well, more like Liam did, for the sake of talking. Ivan only nodded or shook his head.

When the last student got up and got his grade, I was still staring like a brainwashed zombie.

I was eighteen, a senior in high school who only flirted with mixed martial arts. Looking at someone with Stone's experience made you go 'holy shit, I have to get to that level?!' or 'we can do that?!'.

So awestruck I was that I didn't notice Nikoli wave me over.

"Sweetheart, I think Niko wants you over there."

I glanced at Sylvia, she gave me a nod pushed me in a standing position. What, he wanted me to go there? And by God, I felt sick as four pairs of eyes landed on me. I hastily made my way to the center of the mattresses, hiding by Nikoli's side from the wrath of the three other men.

"Hello, puppet!" Liam chirped.

Damn him, that just made the whole class look at me. I was sick. I was ready to pass out. I wanted to run. I wanted to...holy fuck, Stone's glaring at me!

"She's human?" a boy's voice made it through.

I went cold. The word was spoken with such disgust and superiority that I suddenly wanted to crawl under a rock and die. Somewhere on my face, that must have shown, because Nikoli instantly placed a hand on my shoulder.

No, I'm a frickin' mermaid and I eat fish balls. "Yes. Very human and very...frail compared to your size," I dully noted on a close inspection on the short, but buff teen.

Still young and with a shred of respect, the students fell quiet. This was easy, I thought, but I sure as hell did not want to see how the older students reacted to my presence.

"Darling, you alright?"

"Yes, Nikoli," I replied dreamily, avoiding all eye contact and thus, staring at Nikoli's bright purple gym t-shirt.

"Okay, Charlie," Liam intervened yet again, "we all want to run you some quick tests. A little bird told me you liked to fight."

"If you're the punching bag, yes," I muttered to myself.

The air went stiff for approximately five minutes. Then someone (I later discovered it was Ivan) scoffed with hidden laughter. Meeting Liam's gaze, I only found that 'your-insults-are-totally-turning-me-on' smirk on his face. Nikoli was snickering beside me. I kept avoiding the sight of a certain person whose presence made the atmosphere feel ten times heavier.

Then, as amusement died down, I suddenly realized they were all waiting for something.

"Wait, what tests?"

Before sounds could escape the werewolf's mouth, Nikoli stepped in front of me, thankfully blocking any view of the others. "How about we duel for a bit, Charlie-girl?" He noticed my blank stare. "Vallin said we should get you up front and ask you to show us what you have."

Oh, no. Oh, hell no!

He sighed. "Look, I get it, girls don't do fighting. It's not like any of us is going to keep you in the ring for longer than five seconds. You're not even going to fight with one of those three. I'll take care of you."

I'm not sure which part of that rant did it, but I did acknowledge the moment where I completely forgot about my inhibitions and met Nikoli's gaze, throwing my hoodie on the nearest rail. They were making me fight a freakin' gymnast?!

"I'm in my jeans, I grunted."

Nikoli sighed with the air of a drama queen, earning an imposing glare from my side. "Don't worry, honey, you won't stain 'em."

"Alright!" the nosy werewolf exclaimed, taking a step forward. Ivan's hand gripped the mutt's shoulder and dragged him a couple of steps back, standing next to Stone's already stiff figure. The latter had already taken his apparently usual posture, feet spread apart, arms crossed on his chest and eyes scrutinizing the area.

I didn't expect much emotion from glancing at his face, but what irked me were the other two's wary expressions, as if not expecting anything from me standing in front of Nikoli. I hated them. Officially.

"Alright, so how do we--"

I saw him lunge before he managed to reach halfway the distance between us. Had I thought Nikoli was going to be a helpful fairy and go easy on me, I was wrong, because in the next second, he landed a punch in my already bruised stomach.

I was breathless and couldn't help but grunt. When I glared at him, he just shrugged in that effeminate way of his. Like hell I was going to let him get to me. And there was no way in hell I was going to embarrass myself in front of my new idol.

He knew I'd noticed him grab a set of sticks or whatever those were, so he rushed to throw them. I jumped with my right foot on the rail beside me, flipped just as he threw the stupid things and just as they went flying in a general direction, I did a back flip over Nikoli.

He didn't give me time to breathe, yet I managed to block his next fist and the other one, ducking and finally, hitting him straight in the chest.

"Enough."

I inhaled sharply and drew back in my shell at the voice. Ivan looked me over, nodding ever so discretely before looking at Stone. The black haired man showed no sign of noticing this, as he kept fixing me with his penetrating stare. Then, I literally began shaking as he moved from his spot, like a Greek statue coming to life. And then he stepped in front of me.

Help.

It felt so weird being in front of him. Like being placed in front of your dream. Granted, his skills were officially my goal in life. So, really, I felt very small and tense in front of him. Another reason why I avoided looking at his face.

I dodged the first hit and kept the strategy, jumping and doing back flips and what not at his every attempt of advancing towards me. It hit me then, how close he managed to get to me and how warm the air around him was. Not warm, but ready to suffocate you.

His fist cut through the air, officially scaring me shitless. And then, as I started to ponder why I wasn't attacking him, he grabbed a sword.

All thinking seized.

I lunged at the other one, going into full fight mode. Metal made pained noises as the blades connected. Where he hit, I blocked. Where I cut, he moved away. It didn't help that he had a lot more strength behind each strike compared to me and his wide frame made it easy for him to put me in a blocking position. However, my thin form proved worthy when it came to snaking my way around him. He hadn't counted on that one, I assumed.

And it went on, the only thing registration through my mind being the intimidation factor my opponent had on me.

But by what seemed the eleventh hour, annoyance was starting to flow, because neither of us could finish what he had started. And that's how we ended facing one another, blades pointed at each other's chests. But I could feel it radiating through him: the desire to make me look like crap. Of course he was not impressed by me, how could he when I was so much younger and inexperienced? But I hated the way he looked at me, determined to ruin my image.

Proud people with great egos can be easily offended by each other. I am like that. But what hurts us more than failure is knowing that you've been taken lightly by an opponent. Not being taken seriously.

The students had already cleared out of the gym. Stone did not move from his stance. The dignity that I had left kept me standing up to him and then, within a few seconds, I let my foot slip, my whole body spun around and I pushed against the ground.

He had no time to react and whereas he tried to catch me like he would have one of his students, I was sure to move around his arms. My right foot slammed against the back of his legs. There was a loud thud as his back crashed against the floor.

He froze against the tip of the blade - having been pressed firmly against the left side of his chest-, his eyes not betraying his emotions. I expected that much of him, although somewhere in the depth of those steely pools there was anger, strictly directed at me.

I was nowhere below that, either. My nostrils flared with distaste and I made of point of glaring at the man. As his face contorted from anger to shock, then to anger and mockery again, I decided to strike at his pride for the sake of my own.

"Embarrassing you in front of your students would have been less than fortunate for you. So this meaningless banter is going to stay between us," I seethed, "but I will not accept being treated as garbage!"

I threw the blade aside and looked twice at Cain - now looking ready to kill someone - before strolling out of the gym, my insides boiling with egotistical pain.

And just as I leaned against the stone banister outside, trying to hold back angry tears, a very familiar mop of fiery red hair. I whimpered to myself.

"Charlie? Charlie! Hey, Charlie!"

The bell rang. Students began flooding the front steps, avoiding my spot like the plague. I didn't even have the strength to scowl at them anymore.

"Hey, have you seen Janice, I just got..." And then his gaze landed on my crouched stance. "What's wrong?"

"Your idiot of a teacher happened."

"Huh?"

"Stone! Bloody fucking Stone!" I growled. A couple of students passing us shot me sympathetic looks. Oh, that's just great.

James' only reply was an empathic "Oh".

"I'm going home."

"No, wait!" I turned to him. "I'll drive you..."

Yet judging by the way he was looking at me, he had something to tell me. And I was proven right when, in the all too intimate environment of his beat up VW, he began shooting me questioning glances.

"Okay, what?"

"No, I was just...you know, I was just...I was wondering if you...made progress or stuff."

"About the trafficking business?"

He shifted in his seat. "Well, yeah."

I rubbed the back of my neck, having completely forgotten about forging a plan regarding said subject. And thus hit me the inevitable question 'Now what?'.

"I have a match tomorrow. I'll let you know if I find anything."

"Cool. Excellent. Great."

He grinned.