Authors: Nic Widhalm
“Hunter,” he shook her hand delicately.
“What? Big guy like you, that’s all you’ve got?”
Hunter blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not going to break,” Karen looked down at her hand, still grasping Hunter’s. He grinned and squeezed until she finally released the grip.
“Much better. Now we know each other.”
“Um…”
Karen ignored him and ordered a drink from the bartender. Turning back, she flashed another teasing smile. His mouth went dry and he took a long pull from his bottle. When he finished, he saw her looking at him expectantly.
“So, uh…Karen?”
She took her beer from the bartender—an import—and nodded at Hunter.
“Right. Can I buy you a drink?”
That’s how you do this, right?
She looked down at her beer then back at Hunter with a raised eyebrow. His cheeks burned again and he laughed nervously. “Right. Um…pretzel?” He held out the half-f bowl he’d been snacking on.
“I had a big breakfast, thank you.” Then, running her eyes up and down Hunter’s body again, she asked, “Working on a sermon?”
“What? Oh. Yeah, something like that.” Hunter fingered his almost-empty bottle, cursing himself silently. That was twice he’d forgotten the robes.
Karen took a long swallow from her beer—the play of her lips almost made him faint—then slapped down the bottle and leaned over. “You’re not a priest.”
“I am.”
“No,” Karen sighed dramatically. “You’re not. You know how I can tell?”
Hunter wiggled in his chair, not sure if he was excited or terrified. “Alright. How can you tell?”
Karen looked over both shoulders, then leaned close and whispered, “You’re drinking shitty beer at a shitty bar at seven in the morning.”
Hunter leaned back and laughed, startling the group of work-men at the end of the bar. He smiled apologetically, still chuckling, and looked over at Karen who was grinning in return.
Yeah, crazy as a goddamn fox this one.
Hunter didn’t mind, though. It was the first time he could remember holding a conversation with a woman for more than a few minutes before seeing her face fill with disgust. And he had
never
talked with anyone who looked like Karen.
She was beautiful, every man’s wish fulfillment. But Hunter was drawn to something else. The strange juxtaposition between the conservative outfit and slapping a beer on the bar, for one thing. The way she arched a single, perfect eyebrow, and then, now, was wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. It painted an odd portrait of crazy and seductive. The woman dripped sexuality and schizophrenia.
Hunter watched her, eyes bright, and took another drink. “So I guess it’s safe to assume you’re not a priest either?”
“What makes you think you can assume anything at this point?”
“What? I can’t be a priest enjoying a drink and you can?”
Karen arched another eyebrow and Hunter’s pulse quickened. The wooden armrests of the stool were slick with sweat as his fingers tightened. He couldn’t pull his eyes from Karen’s long fingers as they wrapped fluidly around the glass bottle, raising and lowering it from her lips.
She kept her silence well, Hunter thought; most strangers would try to fill the emptiness with small talk. And yet…just for a moment, as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, Hunter got that uneasy feeling again.
Deep black pools.
He turned back to his own beer and shook his head. Too little sleep and too much booze. It was probably just his innate ability to drive people away that had him on edge. He could already see the bartender’s attitude changing, saw how his eyes tightened every time he looked at Hunter, how his frown deepened and his nostrils flared. Any moment now Karen’s mouth would suddenly pucker, and she would find some reason to visit the bathroom. Hunter had met plenty of gorgeous women who’d been happy to know him for a minute or two, then in a hurry to leave after a few minutes more.
“So,” Karen said after a minute of nothing but the quiet murmur of the college kids in the corner. “What brings a man pretending to be a priest to a bar like this?”
“Oh, same thing that brings most men I guess.”
“Pussy?”
Hunter choked on his beer, spilling a portion over the front of his robe. He turned to Karen, eyes wide, “Christ, you’re bold.”
“Ah hah!” Karen pointed at Hunter. “See, a priest would
never
take the Lord’s name in vain.”
“What, are you an expert on priests now? How do you know I don’t talk to Jesus all the time?”
Karen smirked. “Not buying it. For one thing, a priest would never look at me the way you do.” Hunter opened his mouth, closed it, then opened again. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks and turned away.
Would you stop it already, you keep blushing like a damn fourteen-year-old.
Karen swiveled in her seat, and for a moment her bare leg lightly brushed Hunter’s own. Leaning back, she gave him another long look. “I don’t mind,” she said.
Hunter, at a loss for words, hunched over his beer and finished it in a quick gulp. He signaled to the bartender, then looked at Karen and her half-empty bottle. “Another?”
“Sure.”
Hunter motioned for two. “I guess it’s safe to tell you—I’m not a priest.”
“Really!” Karen gasped.
“Hah, hah. Yeah, I’m borrowing these,” Hunter picked at the ill-fitting robes, “from a friend while my clothes dry.”
“And thought you’d stop for a drink while you waited?”
“I didn’t want to be a bother, and I knew it was going to take awhile, so…” Hunter waved absently at the bar.
“You’ve got a lot of friends in the priesthood?”
Hunter sighed loudly, then turned to Karen and flashed an overly-large smile. “So what’s your story?”
She laughed. “Oh, you know, same thing.
Hunter snuck a quick peek at Karen’s long legs, which were creating all kinds of tempting bulges under her black skirt.
“Something tells me you’re a girl who doesn’t frequent the laundry room very often.”
Her grin, the one reminding Hunter of the cat and the cream, faltered for the first time. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I don’t think you’d want to put
that
,” Hunter nodded at her expensive-looking outfit, “in the washing machine. And I’m willing to bet there’s a lot more where that came from.”
Karen’s grin returned. “So you know all that about me? After one drink and a minute of small talk?”
“One and a half,” Hunter said in a hurt tone.
“Oh, I apologize,” Karen placed a hand on her breast. “I would never want to upset a man of the cloth.”
Hunter grinned, again, and tried to remember the last time he’d smiled this much.
Probably when Adrianna said she’d marry me.
Though, he had been so drunk that night he’d passed out almost immediately after asking her. So it was difficult to say for certain.
“What?” Karen asked, watching Hunter smile.
“Nothing. Just the tricks fate can play, you know?
Karen leaned forward on her stool until she was only a couple of feet away, and met his eyes. Hunter was drawn into her liquid green depths once again.
There’s something so familiar about that gaze
, he thought, the words bubbling distantly in his mind. Her eyes—a dark, swirling pool—beckoned him forward. Calling, caressing, drawing him deeper and deeper, until he felt he would drown in their black depths.
“Fate?” Hunter heard her voice from a great distance. “Why don’t you tell me about it?” In the back of his head a bell clanged, but Hunter pushed it way.
“It’s nothing really, I’ve just had a strange couple of days,” Hunter heard himself say. The ringing noise grew louder, the peel of bells, the clash of steel. Hunter’s temple furrowed as he tried to ignore the sounds.
Not now.
Here,
here
, was what Hunter had been looking for his whole life. How could he have ever settled for Adrianna when there were creatures like Karen in the world? Her eyes, her miraculous black pools swam in front of him, until he felt—
Black?
Reality snapped back with a furious, ringing crash that sent a thousand, sharp needles racing through Hunter’s mind. He opened his eyes, saw Karen’s smile dissolve into a mask of rage, and then the room exploded into chaos.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Karen shrieked, throwing her bottle so it ricocheted off Hunter’s shoulder.
“What? I—” Hunter looked around, confused, and saw the three men at the end of the bar rise and start forward. Turning back, he watched Karen share a look with the men, her hand beckoning them forward, then her eyes were back on Hunter and she started to scream. “You son of a bitch, get your hands off me!”
The beer, coupled with the lack of anything solid in his belly, made Hunter’s vision double as he stood. Leaning on the bar, he tried to clear his head. Beers or not, Hunter wasn’t stupid, he knew when he was getting played. He tried to run for the door, but his vision doubled again and he tripped, falling right into the outstretched arms of the work-men. The bartender leaned over the counter. “Is everything—”
“Everything’s fine,” Karen motioned to the men who had wrenched Hunter’s arms behind his back and were forcing him toward the exit. “Just get that son-of-a-bitch out of here.”
“Somebody help—” Hunter began, but a fist crashed against the back of his head and the world tilted.
“Miss, you sure you’re alright? You need me to call the cops?” The bartender’s voice buzzed in Hunter’s ear as the exit grew closer.
“No,” Karen said. “I think I’m going to get some air. That asshole came out of nowhere, I can still feel his hands on me.
“I’m sorry, I should have been paying more—”
But whatever the bartender said next was cutoff as Hunter was forced through the front door and back into daylight. He flinched against the bright light, and struggled to free his hands. The sidewalk lurched uncontrollably, doubling and tripling in his eyes.
This isn’t right
, he thought.
I’m not a teenager, I can handle a few…
Suddenly, he recognized the blurred vision for what it was—not alcohol…headache. Pain erupted behind his eyes and the sky turned a sudden blood-red, the sound of battle rising in the distance. Hunter flexed his arms, a smile pulling at his lips, and he realized he was actually looking forward to his visions for once.
You assholes picked the wrong mark.
Then Karen’s hand lighted on his shoulder, and the sky cleared. “Nice try big guy, but we’re not having any of that.”
The pain behind his eyes dimmed, the angry crash of steel disappeared, and Hunter’s vision cleared. Ahead, a sleek, black Lincoln pulled forward, and a pair of hands shoved him through the open rear door. Karen followed, motioning the driver to go.
“You crazy bitch,” Hunter growled. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Hunter, Hunter, Hunter. ‘Bitch?’ I thought we were friends?”
“I swear to God, when I get out of here…”
Karen, who had been looking out the window as the car cruised smoothly down the street, turned and raised an eyebrow.
That was so sexy a minute ago,
Hunter couldn’t help but think.
“Be careful who you swear to,” she said.
Hunter met her gaze, heart still pounding. “If this is about money…”
She eyed him critically. “Come on, give me a little credit. Like I didn’t notice how glad you were when the bartender gave you one on the house. You don’t have enough money for the bus, let alone to buy me off.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the mansion.”
“What the hell is the—”
“We’re done for now.” Karen turned to the window. “You get one for free. The others have a price.”
Hunter had a hundred questions but didn’t want to give the red-headed devil the satisfaction of ignoring him, so instead made due with staring daggers at the back of her head. The car sped up, and he looked over Karen’s shoulder to see they were exiting to the interstate. The claustrophobic press of buildings had cleared, and the road expanded to three lanes. If he was going to make a run for it, now was the time.
She can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds. I can be out that door before she even thinks about stopping me. It’ll hurt, but if I wait any longer it’s going to hurt a whole lot
more
, and if I…
If he what? Hunter thought back a few minutes to when the visions had begun.
I was looking forward to them
. And this strange, gorgeous woman had stopped them with a touch. If he stayed she might have answers.
Or she might have one of her pals bash my head in just for the fun of it
. The car’s purr was growing to a steady thrum, and Hunter knew it was now or never. The driver clicked the turn signal, merging to the on-ramp.
Stay or go?
He tensed, ready to leap for the door. Karen was staring out the window—he couldn’t ask for a better chance.
She made the visions disappear with a touch.