Instinct Ascending: Rabids Book 2 (3 page)

Amiel wasn’t sure if Foundation had him running on a mission or not, but she had a suspicion that he was just taking it easy on her today. She must look terrible, for him to let her off the hook.

“Thanks,” she mumbled. “Why don’t you go on and head out, then. Don’t worry about following me to work today. That’s the nice thing about this crazy work schedule; you don’t have to worry so much about the Rabids using me for a toothpick during the day.” She smiled softly. Harley watched her for a long moment.

“You sure?”

She nodded, waving him away. “Totally. Don’t worry about me.”

“Isn’t that what friends do, Amiel?” he asked seriously, looking her in the eyes to ensure his sincerity made an impact. Nodding, he lightly tugged a strand of her hair again before heading toward the door. “Take care. I’ll see ya later on, kid.” With one more concerned glance, he headed out the door.

Amiel followed, carefully twisting each lock, knowing he wouldn’t leave until he heard them engage. The big lug was always looking out for her. Her eyes shifted back to the knife block on the counter. She just hoped that, if the time came, Harley wouldn’t have to be the one to put her down. 

Amiel

By the afternoon, Amiel was feeling much better than she had that morning. The headache had died down to an ache that only bothered her when she moved her head too quickly. Joyce had also popped in to say hi, and that alone had brightened Amiel’s day considerably. That was probably what she missed most about being stuck on daylight detail: her bubbly friend. The rest of the team that worked day shift seemed nice enough, but they were aloof and a bit uptight. The night crew might be angsty and a little crazy, but at least she had someone to talk to.

Day crew was a suspicious lot. Joyce had warned her; she said the fact that they refused to work anything but day shift shouted about their personalities. At first, Amiel had been somewhat understanding of their mentality. After all, if she didn’t have the tags watching her back, she would likely be more inclined to work day shift, too. However, it wasn’t until she actually started working the new hours that Amiel finally understood what Joyce had been trying to tell her. The slightest noise out of the ordinary spooked them. They carefully avoided any eye contact with one another, as well as their customers. They spoke as little as possible, straying far away from anything that might hint at anything personal. It was as though no one wanted to take the risk of getting to know anyone else.

She understood not wanting to feel the debilitating pain of losing a loved one. She knew that all too well. But at the same time, what kind of life was that to live? It had to be so very lonely, not to mention stressful, being that frightened all the time. She found it slightly ironic that Hybrids had to constantly worry about losing their humanity, and yet the very humans they fought to protect had, in a way, already lost it. They were like frightened animals hiding in shadowed corners, only occasionally running into the light to grab food before shrinking back into their dark havens.

The night crew? They were a harder bunch, used to the rigors of life and not afraid to take them on. Sure, they didn’t want to be eaten any more than the next person. But they understood that life waited for no one, and sometimes you had to do the tough things to live. Actually live, in more ways than just breathing. They were crude and rude, but Amiel had grown to think of them as family of sorts: a big, crazy, dysfunctional family. Amiel understood how to do crazy, dysfunctional families. And of course when things got too crazy, Joyce was always there to laugh it off with her. She missed it.

The bell over the door rang, and from the corner of her eye, Amiel saw two men take a corner booth near the door, far away from everyone else. Smiling, she shook her head and grabbed a new pen from the drawer. These two were perfect examples of the everyday, average humans that walked the daylight hours. Antisocial day chasers, Joyce called them. The name made Amiel grin.

She strode to their table, avoiding eye contact until she was ready to take their order: yet another trick she had had to learn on this new shift. Daylighters tended to get hostile and suspicious if you were too outwardly friendly.

“Welcome to Jolleyways Diner, what can I get… you?” Amiel floundered slightly as she finally looked up. “Pell?”

Pell grinned enthusiastically. “Hello, Amiel. How are you?”

“I…” Amiel hesitated in surprise for a second, before her manners kicked in. “I am well, thank you. How are you?” 

Pell’s grin broadened at her reply. “Wonderful! I must say it is lovely seeing you again. After our last meeting being so… well, you know. I don’t have to remind you!” Pell grunted, grabbing at his shin and shooting a surprised glance at his companion.

“Tone it down, Einstein. You’ll draw attention,” the second man cautioned quietly. Amiel swallowed hard, finally forcing herself to turn to Pell’s companion.

“Cajun,” she greeted.

“Amiel,” Cajun replied solemnly. They stared at one another for a long moment, and Amiel felt an odd sort of jolt inside her, some sort of reaction to what she now instinctively recognized as Cajun’s Hybrid side staring at her through his eyes. She didn’t like the way that jolt felt, leaping to life within her mind. She closed her eyes, giving her head a slight shake, begging the sensation to dissipate.

Swallowing, she forced herself to look back to Cajun, to meet his gaze. A flicker of surprise flashed across his golden-hued eyes before they lowered to stare at where the dog tags hid, nestled away beneath her t-shirt and apron. He nodded, sitting back in his chair, eyes shifting to stare at the table before him. She wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, but it had been completely disconcerting, so she rushed on with what she did know: her job.

“What can I get you, Pell?”

“An order of those delightfully fluffy, pancake donut frosting-coated things would be amazing!” Pell replied jubilantly, entirely unaware of the awkwardness in the air. “And coffee — decaf. I don’t handle all that caffeine very well,” he confided with a blush. Amiel smiled. She could understand why. She had a feeling that seeing Pell on a full caffeine rush would be slightly frightening. Not looking up from her notepad, Amiel addressed Harley’s brother.

“Cajun?”

“Forgiveness.”

She looked up quickly, surprise causing her to look into his eyes without thinking. Thankfully, his Hybrid had receded and she no longer felt that uncomfortable conflict from earlier.

“I beg your pardon?” Her tone was quiet, hesitant.

“Do you have a break coming up? Things are a bit… edgy in here, for conversation.”

Amiel followed Cajun’s gaze to see Stint glowering at them behind the counter. Turning back to Cajun, she nodded, pretending to write on her note pad.

“My break is coming up in half an hour.”

“Would I be asking too much to speak with you then? I promise not to take up too much of your time.”

Amiel bit her lip in thought. The last time she had spoken with Cajun, the situation had been rife with contention and a whole lot of angst. She wasn’t entirely sure where she stood with him now, and the idea of meeting him alone somewhere was somewhat intimidating. But she was a big girl now, with big-girl panties that currently needed to be hiked up to big-girl status. Sighing, she straightened her spine, fortifying herself. “Where should I meet you?”

Cajun nodded, pleased with her answer. “Pell will walk with you to where we can meet. It is nearby and very public, don’t worry.” Obviously he’d seen the distrustful look in her eyes. Without saying another word, he stood and strode from the restaurant. Amiel stared at the door as it closed, before turning back to Pell. Pell, for his part, was still grinning broadly. Amiel shook her head and went to deliver his order to Cookie.

“Who was that?” Stint interrogated, the moment she moved behind the counter.

“Who?” She feigned disinterest.

“The Halfer freak,” Stint ground out. Amiel’s temper flared at the derogative term, but she carefully kept her face passive.

“Halfer? What is that?”

Stint’s own temper rose with her feigned ignorance. “The one with the tattoo. You know him?”

“Nope. Just another patron.”

“Why did he leave so quickly? I saw you talking.”

“He asked if we had a bathroom. I told him only if he didn’t mind wading through trash to get to it. Apparently he didn’t like that idea. Can’t say I blame him. It is pretty gross in there.”

Stint’s eyes narrowed. “You’re walking on thin ice, woman.”

“It is winter.” She kept her face completely blank, though oddly she wanted to grin. There was nothing funny about this situation, or the fact that she was talking back to the man who could end her career. Yet somehow she couldn’t stop herself. She didn’t like his expression, his tone, and she certainly didn’t like the way he spoke about Cajun. Maybe they hadn’t had the most pleasant meetings in the past, but he was still Harley’s brother. And that made him her friend, no matter what their difference of opinion. Especially if he was serious about wanting to put the past behind them, as he had intimated before leaving.

“Watch your dirty whore mouth,” Stint growled, leaning closer. “And mind you, next time that man comes in here, we don’t serve him. We don’t welcome his kind here, or those who socialize with them. So tell his friend to scram, too.”

“His kind?” Amiel asked, sarcasm and anger heavily lacing her words. “Exactly what kind is that?”

“The Halfer freaks. They roam about at night, causing all sorts of trouble, sticking their noses where they don’t belong. Rumor has it that they’re tainted, their disease perpetuating this cursed plague.”

“That’s ridiculous. I haven’t heard any such rumors,” Amiel argued.

“That’s because you’re too busy on the street corner to hear them. Now shut up and send his friend packing.”

Amiel went stiff, defiantly facing the portly man. 

He scoffed. “You’re useless. Get in the kitchen. Your pay is docked for two days.”

Amiel snapped out of her anger as he shoved past her, the fact that she was on the verge of losing her job finally sinking in. Stint wasn’t one for empty promises when it came to firing people. She turned on her heel, slammed through the doors into the kitchen, and leaned against the counter in frustration.

In the other room, she could hear Stint shouting at Pell to get out. Amiel hurried to the service window. Pell looked toward the kitchen with a harried expression on his way out the door. Amiel nodded stiffly toward him, pointing at her watch. He seemed to get her meaning and headed out the door without a word. Amiel quickly slipped out of view before Stint could turn around and realize that she’d been lying about her acquaintance with the men. She turned, feeling the gaze of all those in the kitchen on her back.

“Yes, I’m crazy, thank you. Grr rawrr.” Their gazes quickly shied away, hurrying back to their work as though afraid to catch her particular brand of crazy. Only one pair of eyes stayed glued to her, and didn’t shift away when she met their gaze: Cookie, the one part of her work shift that stayed the same despite the time change. She wasn’t entirely sure how he managed to work both day and night shifts without keeling over in exhaustion or boredom, but somehow the guy was always there. From his position at the stove, he could see everything that happened in the diner, the open serving window affording a clear view. And that meant he’d likely seen the whole thing play out. His eyes held hers for a long moment, before he turned back to the stove.  Sighing heavily, Amiel approached him.

“Cookie, I need an intervention. This lack of sleep is making me crazy. I could have just lost my job back there. What is wrong with me? Why did I have to push it? I need help.” He gave her a simple glance before moving back to his cooking. “No? No help on that front?” No answer. She sighed again, bending to press her head against the cool surface of the metal counters.

“Okay then, I’ll just take two orders of our donut dips to go, thanks,” she mumbled. He nodded and went to work on them, bagging them up and handing them off to her in his no-nonsense, record-breaking speed.

Offering him a wave, Amiel clocked out for lunch and headed for the back door. Peeking out to ensure there were no unsavory lurkers hiding in the back alley, she exited the restaurant and made her way around to the street. She froze, stepping back around the corner of the alley when she saw Stint. He was standing on a small stepladder, pinning up a large sign on the barred windows of the restaurant. The sign was written in big, ugly, scribbled sharpie words. With a grunt of satisfaction, Stint grabbed his stepladder and headed back inside. After waiting a few moments, Amiel walked up to the window.

“Rabids, Halfers, and sympathizers not welcome!”

Her anger bubbled under the surface once more. It almost made her waltz back into the building and quit on the spot. Instead, she turned on her heel and strode away quickly, before her temper could get her into more trouble. If she lost this job, there was no guarantee she could find another. It had taken forever to find this one. And in today’s world, you needed a reliable job to survive.

She’d heard stories from Joyce about what happened to people on the street in this city, none of which was appealing to Amiel in the least. From her own experiences on the streets, she was more than eager to avoid that if possible. Still, it grated on her nerves to work for someone who so easily hated those that he knew nothing about — especially when her best friend and his family were part of that hated group.

She was grateful when she saw Pell was indeed waiting outside, leaning against the wall of a shop across the street. It was a much-needed distraction from her current, angry rampage. When he saw her, a huge smile broke across his face and he moved quickly to join her, tripping on the curb as he went. They walked in silence for a few moments, though she could tell he was eager to say something. When she handed him one of the bags of donut dips, he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“I am not the best when it comes to actually talking to people,” he apologized with a blush. “I tend to babble about history, and really anything of interest to me, thus the stammerings about my heritage the first time we met.”

Amiel frowned in confusion. “The first time we met? I only remember a cow…”

His skin flushed. “Uh, yeah, that one didn’t come out the way I intended it to, either.” He held out his hands, as though to bow. “Mr. Awkward, that’s me.”

Amiel smiled softly. “You’re fine, Pell, no worries.”