Unraveled

Breathe, Ally, breathe.

A gun shot rang out from the corner of Mills and Green, and Allyson Cameron ducked reflexively.
This was not what she bargained for, far from it.

There she’d been, sitting quietly in the corner booth of George’s Coffee House, when the beautiful stranger had beckoned at her from the window. She hadn’t known who he was, where he was going, or what he’d wanted, but everything in her had screamed to follow, despite how much her rational side said not to.

The sound of metal pinging in a ricochet was enough to send her completely to the hard cement ground.

“Shit,” she breathed as she scrambled for cover.

Things like this didn’t happen in Fort Bend, Oklahoma, and that was exactly why her father had pleaded with her to stay. Now, more than ever, she wished she’d have listened to him.
New York had been nothing but trouble since she’d arrived. Her job was a mess, her living accommodations were less than desirable, and her current predicament only further convinced her that she’d made the wrong decision.

Ally was not cut out to survive in the city. That was a fact.

“I thought I told you to stay off of my street!” a deep male voice growled from behind the pistol. He was talk, dark and reeked of danger. “Your kind doesn’t belong here.”

Ally frowned and ducked her head as he fired off another round.

“Your territory stopped at Links Crossing. This is neutral ground.” The man on the receiving end of the gun held up his hands in defense. “And quit firing those rounds at me. You’re wasting your bullets and the noise will attract spectators.”

“Good.” This time the attacker used his free hand to pull a stake from the waistband of his jeans. The gun stayed trained in front of him, but he took a cautious step forward. “The more people that know about you filthy inbreeds, the less likely they’ll be to get trapped.”

“Filthy inbreeds?” It was clear the comment that had struck a chord.

There was a gnashing of teeth as the gun wielding man found himself tackled to the ground, and a hard thud sounded as his back collided with the concrete.

“That’s it, let him come out,” the man Ally had once deemed admirable cooed tauntingly. “It’s a full moon. I’m surprised you’ve been able to subdue yourself this long.”

“Not all of us exhibit the lack of control you do.”

“We’ll see.” The man landed a punch square in the other’s jaw. The sound of flesh on flesh mixed with a sickening crack. “How much pain can you take before the beast forces its way out?”
Ally watched the pair with frightened eyes as the man reared back and let his fist fly again, and again, and again. Each time she was sure the man had had enough, and each time he raised himself proudly and took another pounding.

The beautiful stranger wiped a bloody fist against his chin and grinned with malice. “You fired at me with the attempt to kill, yet here you are lying beaten and embarrassed.” He reached for the gun the beaten man had once wielded and snapped it clearly in half. “You didn’t even have wooden bullets? Tsk, tsk.” He tossed the pieces with care and smiled broadly. “Maybe this will serve as a lesson…”

With a final blow, he finished the man off.

Ally didn’t see the strike, but she knew it was finished when she heard the undeniable thud of a lifeless body hitting the ground. There were no grunts, none of the familiar groans she’d heard as the man had taken the hits. He was dead. No doubts about it.

The stranger didn’t waste any time leaving his victim lying on the sidewalk, as he stood and stalked his way toward the spot Ally was hidden. It was that quick abandonment of his victim, and the lack of remorse visible in his bright amber eyes, that made her nauseous.

“Sorry, beautiful,” he stated with a predatory gaze. “I wasn’t expecting any extra company. Now, where were we?” His stance shifted as he stepped toward her.

This was it. This was the end.

The police would find her lifeless corpse in the morning, and would call her devastated father with the news. Heaven knew he’d bared enough heartbreak in his forty five years. Now she’d be the cause of even more grief.

I’m sorry, Daddy.

She backed herself as far into the concrete wall as she could, and started rambling off one final prayer in a last ditch attempt at salvation.

She wished she’d gone to church more, hell there were a ton of things she wished she’d have done, but it was too late for any of that. You only live once and she’d lived the only way she could.

Quietly and shyly.

The man stopped, his eyes hollow as he stared at her. For a second something flickered it their depths, an almost undeniable reflection of a candle being blown out with one single blow. And then she realized why.

From the middle of his abdomen protruded a glowing silver spear that shown abnormally bright in the midst of the cold winter’s night. It was covered with an almost black, tarry substance that she knew had to be blood but it wasn’t what blood should have looked like.

Then, with a force hard enough to send the man forward, the spear was withdrawn. He exploded into her as gravity pulled him toward the ground -- a pool of tarry entrails catapulting all over her cream colored sweater and light washed blue jeans.

She froze, unable to decide between fainting and vomiting.

People didn’t just explode.

She reached for a slimy piece of the man that was hanging from a strand of her hair. This was a dream. She was in the middle of some horribly vulgar nightmare that she was ninety-eight percent sure was the result of Ben and Jerry’s or some other unhealthy snack she’d devoured.

From her peripheral she saw a flash of silver.

Whoever it was that had donned the weapon, stalked down the alleyway in a black leather jacket with the composure of someone who’d obviously done this before. Turned someone into a bloody pulp, that is.

He stopped at the lifeless corpse on the sidewalk and squatted quietly. He stayed like that for a minute, examining the person with a stoic expression, before he pulled a cell phone from his pocket and placed it to his ear. His voice was deep and firm as he spoke into the receiver in a language that Ally wasn’t able to comprehend. It sounded like Latin, but she wasn’t sure enough to say one way or the other.

The conversation didn’t last long, and he stood gracefully as he shoved the phone back in its place.
That was when he turned toward her.

Even in the dimly light alley she could see the piercing cyan colored eyes, staring at her with enough intensity to root her in her spot. He was tall, over six feet, with golden brown hair that was just a little too long to be neat, and a set of cheek bones that looked like they could’ve been etched out of stone. His dark brows knitted together, and his perfectly formed lips pursed as Ally stared at him from her spot.

He was too gorgeous to look away from, despite the mess that bloodied her clothes and her face. She knew she had to look as confused as she felt, and she wanted to say something but fear and awe had captured the part of her brain that was responsible for communication.

“Zac.”

The voice came from the man’s left and he slowly pivoted in place. His eyes moved from hers, though she knew he was still consciously aware of her presence. It would be hard for anyone to miss the woman standing in the midst of carnage.

“Over here, Marcel,” he relayed in the same deep tone he’d spoken with moments before. “We’ll need the bodies transported as soon as possible. The quicker we can get them out of here, the less likely we are to hear about it.”

“Killed them both, did you?” the faceless voice questioned with what sounded like amusement. “What happened to the innocent until proven guilty lecture you fed me?”

Zac’s face broke into a broad grin. “I was not the one at fault here. One of them was dead before I arrived, I’ll have you know.”

“And the other?”

“He had it coming.” Zac redirected his attention at Ally and paused. “Can you handle this or do you need my help?”

“I’ve got it.” Marcel appeared at the statement, his hands in his pockets as he glanced at the corpse. He was just a little taller than Zac, but his skin was more olive and he was slightly bulkier than his counterpart. “Just let them know we’re coming.”

“Will do.” Zac turned and took a step in Ally’s direction, his black military boots pounding against the concrete as he walked.

She thought he’d say something as he neared her, but he gave her one last glance and then disappeared into thin air.

And that was when she fainted.