Instinct Ascending: Rabids Book 2 (7 page)

Harley

Harley scowled as his eyes fell on Cajun and Charleen, who were currently standing near a nervous and repentant looking Amiel. It was definitely
not
a date. It was an intervention.

“G’day, brother,” Cajun greeted him cheerily. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Harley nodded. “Yeah. I thought you’d still be at the strip club.”

Cajun paled slightly, giving Charleen a placating look. She just rolled her eyes and ignored the two of them. She knew very well that this was how things worked with the brothers, and most days she let them have their fun without saying a word, much less believing any of it. Amiel, on the other hand, looked ready to faint. She hadn’t been around them long enough to know the rules of their games.

“Oh gosh,” she murmured, before forcing a bright smile. “So, I realized that I hadn’t really gotten a chance to know Cajun and Charleen, or to thank them for their help a few months ago. I thought we could all eat together and make a fun night of it,” Amiel offered, clearly trying to lighten the mood and slowly ease them into being in one another’s company. Little did she know, they’d already made up. She didn’t give them a chance to speak, before turning and heading toward the door. She didn’t make it inside. Amiel stopped dead in her tracks as a man approached the glass door, sign in hand.

“Rabids, Halfers, and sympathizers not welcome.”

Harley’s eyes narrowed as he read it, gaze quickly shifting to Amiel with concern. Her shoulders were slumped, eyes wide with horror. And then, as swiftly as a passing tornado, her body language changed. Her fists clenched at her sides, back going ramrod straight. Her eyes darkened, pupils dilating with fury. Harley’s Hybrid stirred, annoyingly excited by this change in the girl. It could feel her instincts rising, her own kind of Hybrid nature rising.

And that fact was disconcerting, considering that had only happened in the presence of Rabids before. Harley hadn’t thought it was possible any other time. He shoved his Hybrid aside and moved to step in. Only she was already on the move. Amiel stomped up the steps to the door, yanking it wide.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded imperiously. The man’s eyes widened, clearly surprised that she was confronting him on the matter.

“It is my establishment; I am allowed by law to make any changes to who I allow within my doors, at any time,” he replied, scrambling to regain his snooty demeanor.

“Who do you think you are? What makes you any better than anyone else? Do you have any idea who you’re even talking about? What they do for this city? If it weren’t for them, your lousy establishment would be overrun with Rabids! You’re only doing this because Jolleyways did it, and you’re trying to compete with them because it’s a better restaurant than yours,” she growled. The man’s back stiffened at the insults to his restaurant. By this time, the other patrons in the building had taken notice of the situation, closely watching the confrontation play out. Harley stepped closer, carefully keeping his voice neutral and low.

“It’s okay, kid, let’s go somewhere else. It doesn’t matter.”

“No, stop!” she barked, and suddenly he found himself relenting. He didn’t want to; he wanted to pull her back. Yet something about her presence, her demeanor, held him at bay. He glanced it Cajun and Charleen, and for their part, they seemed to be in the same state as him.

“It does matter!” Amiel raged on. “It’s not fair for you to be treated like scum, to be scowled at, ridiculed and segregated from everyone else. Their safety is bought on your broken backs and they don’t even have the common decency to appreciate it!” She took a step closer to the man, and he quickly retreated one. “Hybrids are people just like you and me. The only difference is they don’t hide behind doors and fences, behind pathetic signs. They aren’t cowards; they actually fight to make the world a better place! All so that spoiled, pathetic sheep like you can sleep at night.” She yanked the sign off the door. “This?
This
is trash.” She ripped the sign in half, much to the dismay and aggravation of the owner.

“What are you doing? That’s private property you’re destroying, I’ll have you know!”

“It’s a piece of paper that belongs in the trash,” Amiel argued darkly.

“I’m calling the police and they’ll have you tossed in jail…” The man yelped, shutting up immediately as Amiel grabbed his shirt.

“Go ahead and try it,” Amiel growled, an unspoken promise in her voice. The man watched her, wide-eyed and panicked. Finally he held his hands in the air, showing his surrender, cowering under her gaze.

“Amiel.” Harley placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Let the little man go.” Her arm tensed beneath his touch, resisting. “Thumbelina. Let it go, darlin’.” Her hands slowly relaxed, falling away from the man’s shirt. The moment he was released, the weasel turned tail and locked the door. When Amiel still didn’t move away, he quickly pulled the shade, obscuring her gaze.

Like a switch being flipped, Amiel’s body language changed. Her stiff posture went slack, chest heaving for breath. Harley gripped her arm and she flinched, gaze jerking toward him in surprise. He felt a moment of his own, seeing her eyes dilated much as they had been that day so long ago at the warehouse. That instinctual pull was still there, still just as powerful as that day. Maybe more so. Getting a grip on himself and his overeager Hybrid, Harley gently pulled Amiel from the steps, leading her down the street to sit on the steps of another building.

“Oh my gosh. What
was
that?” Amiel whispered, staring at hands that shook in her lap. Harley glanced toward Cajun and Charleen, both of whom were watching her carefully.

“It’s okay, kid,” Harley assured her, hands covering hers. They were icy cold.

“No, no it’s not.” She looked up, eyes wild, pupils still dilated, though not as much as they had been. “I don’t know what came over me. I totally freaked out back there. I let my temper get the best of me; I made a huge scene. That guy is probably calling the cops as we speak. Oh, gosh, I probably caused so much more trouble for you now,” she whimpered apologetically.

Charleen shook her head. “Don’t worry about us.”

Cajun glanced at Charleen, as though surprised to hear her calming assurances, before adding his own more irreverent versions.

“Yeah, bird, it was actually quite fun to watch.”

Harley sent his brother a stern look, and Cajun shrugged. “It’s true. The bloke had it coming.”

Charleen smacked Cajun on the chest, and he rubbed at the spot with a pout.

“What? I’m helping.”

“The cops won’t come, kid,” Harley assured her. “Remember, I told ya there ain’t much left of the cops ’round these parts. They stay to the inner city where it’s safer for their small numbers, and don’t make a ton of calls even then.”

“I don’t know what came over me,” Amiel whispered. “And what was I thinking, getting up in his face like that? He’d probably mop the floor with me. Even with training, I still suck at fighting. Even going after him like that gave me a headache.” She rubbed at her temples, wincing. Her eyes gripped his, glistening. “I’m so sorry, Harley. I wanted to try and patch things up between you and Cajun. And instead I just made a mess of things.”

“Stop that, kid,” Harley censured gently. “You didn’t make a mess of anythin’. If anythin’, ya just raised yourself on the ladder of our respect.”

“Really?” she whispered.

“Really. Remember what I said about Hybrids, and weakness? You just showed a whole lot of backbone back there, kid.”

She smiled a small smile. He aimed to make it bigger. “Besides. Cajun and I already made up. We’re best buds again. Right, Caj?” His brother winked, giving them the thumbs-up.

“Right-o.”

Amiel’s grin did brighten, though it was still dimmed compared to its usual brilliance. The confrontation had clearly shaken her up. “You’re not just saying that because I’m one step away from full-on freak-out mode and you’re trying to calm the waters?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “No kid. We’re good.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad. I never wanted to come between you two.”

“I know, kid. You didn’t. We like to fight. It’s our thing.” She stared at him in confusion, and he lightly tugged her rain-dampened hair. “Now, no more worries. Let’s go get somethin’ to eat — I’m starvin’.” He pulled her to her feet, hand gripping her elbow to steady her as she wobbled slightly.

“I’m such a wimp,” she grumped. Harley frowned, hating that she had such a dark self-image going on.

“Psst!”

They all turned at once toward the sound, zeroing in on the man in the white outfit leaning out of the side door of the dark building they were currently lurking in front of. He waved at them, urging them toward him. “Psst. Come, come.”

Harley shifted Amiel slightly so that she was shielded by his body as they slowly approached the man. He was a thick man, in the belly and cheeks, with a cheerful smile.

“What?” Harley demanded gruffly.

“Is it true? You’re one of them? You have the tattoo?” His eyes zeroed in on all three of their tattoos. “Oh! All three of you are!”

Harley’s eyes narrowed. “What of it?”

“Oh, please don’t think that I mean you any disrespect. I have the utmost respect for you,” the man quickly assured them. “Last year, I was heading home from work and I was set upon by Rabids. I was done for. Until one of you came along and saved me. It was dark and I could be wrong, but I think it was that one there.” He pointed at Cajun. Cajun shrugged nonchalantly, clearly not remembering one way or another. Not surprising, given the particular nature of his brain. The cook waved the matter away.

“
Someone
of your kind saved me. And on that night, I made myself a promise, that if I ever saw one of you in need, I’d help any way I could. So this is me helping now. I’m closed for the night; no one will bother you. Please, come in. I have plenty of leftovers from the night’s venue, still hot and on the house.”

Harley, Cajun and Charleen all looked at one another, uncertain. They were not used to kindness, much less someone offering to feed them for free. At least not something that wasn’t laced with poison. The man’s gaze shifted to Amiel.

“I saw what happened. I saw how you reacted. I admire your strength. In truth, that is what moved me to make good on the promise I made myself so long ago: your courage to stand up for them, to stand up for their rights. I admit I am not a brave man. I never have been and likely never will be. If I was, I’d openly welcome you through my front doors; I’d post a sign saying all of your kind were welcome here. But I do not own the courage. And so I am offering what I can.”

Amiel stared at him a long moment. Finally she turned to Harley.

“Harley?”

Harley scented the air, focused on the man before him. He didn’t feel anything wrong in the man’s intentions. He did feel a slowly growing case of death from within the man, though. If he’d had his glasses, he had no doubt he would see some form of cancer or something within the man’s genetics.  Harley wondered if the man knew he was dying, if maybe that was part of what spurred him onward in his act of generosity now. Finally Harley relented, though he remained cautious.

“Sure, kid. Let’s go eat.”

The man’s face brightened and he quickly ushered them inside.

“Please, sit, sit.”

They filed through the door and into a large, cozy room filled with booths.

“Oh! I forget my manners. My name is Silas.” The man bowed. Everyone around the table offered their own names in return and he nodded in appreciation. “An honor to meet you all.” Next, he laid out a menu for each of them.

“Pick anything on the menu. If it’s not already cooked up, I can make you a batch.” They looked through the menu, each ordering a large helping. Harley wouldn’t be surprised if they’d polished off all Silas’s leftovers in the kitchen. Hybrids were notorious for their large appetites, with their swift metabolism. Even Amiel devoured an entire giant bowl of spaghetti, meatballs, and a side of breadsticks. He didn’t know where she put it all.

Harley leaned back, legs stretched out in front of him, arms thrown over the back of the booth in an effort to give his overly full stomach room. He tried to ignore the way Amiel’s hair brushed across the skin on his wrist from where it rested at her back. Cajun and Charleen leaned close to one another, his dopey brother murmuring sweet stupidity in the woman’s ear. Harley wished his hearing wasn’t as good as it was. He turned his attention to Amiel, trying to drown out the conversation across the booth. He leaned in closer, nose brushing her hair.

“You okay, kid? Still look a bit shook up.”

“Yeah. I’m okay.” She nodded, though the bond told him she had her fair share of misgivings still bouncing around in her head.

“Ya really gotta stop standin’ up for us, Thumbelina.”

“I didn’t mean to. I mean, I wanted to, because it’s wrong how they treat you guys. They shouldn’t get away with being bullies,” she groused stubbornly. “But I did try to hold back. It’s like a switch just got flipped. The same thing happened when I got into an argument with Stint when he was rude to Cajun and Pell.”

Harley’s eyes widened slightly.