Rising (6 page)

He made his way back to his vehicle and climbed behind the wheel. He leaned his head back against the seat, closed his eyes, and attempted to clear his head.

He’d be back and she would die. She deserved to die. She may have the voice of an angel, but that was a lie. She was a traitor, a threat to their people. No other explanation made sense.

He felt someone near just before a fist rapped on the glass. A big, filthy man with wild hair motioned for him to roll down his window.

As soon as the glass lowered, the barrel of a high-caliber pistol poked inside. “Give me all your money and I won’t hurt you,” the man growled.

“Put away that gun and I won’t hurt
you
,” Xanthus said, his voice low and menacing.

The man didn’t seem too impressed. “Yeah man, right. You might notice I’m the one with the…” Before he got the words out, Xanthus had the gun out of the man’s hand
and pointed back at his face with his windpipe clenched in his fist.

“Hey man, I was just joking
,” the human choked out.

“Just walk away. And don’t come back. If I see your face anywhere near here again, I’ll kill you. Do you understand me?”

The man’s eyes widened in fear. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” he said, just before Xanthus released him and he escaped into the darkness.

Xanthus looked toward the little female’s apartment building across the street. Could she have found a more dangerous place to live? He placed the gun in the glove compartment. He shouldn’t have let the gunman live.

This Dagonian female probably felt at home with these bottom-feeders.

Probably?
Aw Hades. He cursed himself and the doubt in his mind. He doubly cursed that he couldn’t seem to stop himself from caring about her welfare. He’d be killing her himself, after all. The traitor had to die, regardless of his feelings and no matter how appealing she was. Of course if she died by a human’s hands then he wouldn’t…

No.

He shook his head at his own idiotic thoughts. If a human killed her, then her body would be taken to the morgue, for the humans to see. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to be the one to kill her and carefully dispose of her body. And he would, soon.

Just not tonight.

The shrill ringing of the phone was Sara’s alarm clock at 6:47
AM. Oh how she wished it had a snooze button.

“Hello,” she said, trying to project a smile through the receiver. A trace of scratchiness grated in her voice. She doubted the dolt who called her so early in the morning would notice.

“Sara, I hope I didn’t awaken you,” a deep, baritone voice hummed in her ear. Ron Hathaway—the guy Gretchen told her she’d been checking out. Well Gretchen was sort of right. Ron was a good-looking guy. Now if he’d just never open his mouth, they’d be a match made in heaven, except for the problem of her deformity. Perfect Ron would take one look at it and scream.

“No, Ron, I’ve been up for
hours
now. What person in their right mind would want to still be asleep at 6:47 AM?” She always said ridiculous things just to see if he was listening.

“Well beautiful, it’s your lucky day.”
Nope, not listening
.

“How is it my lucky day, Ron?” Her tone held a sarcastic edge.

“My date cancelled for tonight.”              

Lucky her.

“So I have in my possession,” he said, “an extra ticket to the Indigo Spire concert.”

“No
,” she gasped. Indigo Spire was her favorite band of all time. Darn her for always listening to her MP3 player and for not listening to the radio more often. She hadn’t even known they were coming in concert until they were sold out. “You only have one ticket? Gretchen loves them almost as much as me.”

“
Well, I have one ticket for me and one for you, if you’d like to join me.”

“I didn’t
even know you liked Indigo Spire.” Ron seemed more like the take-you-to-the-symphony type of guy.

“Well, actually
, I don’t care for the loud music, but…”

“Well then, could I buy both tickets from you?”

“Sara, I am trying to ask you on a date.”

“Oh.” Oh shoot, was more like it. She’d rather stab herself with an ice pick than go on a date with Ron Hathaway. Besides, because of her hideous defect, dating was normally not an option. She and her body were determined to stay out of the public eye.
Translation—no relationships, possibly ever. But, Indigo Spire… She just had to go see them. And to see them she had to go on a date... with Ron Hathaway.

Sara groaned.

“If you don’t answer me,” Ron said, “I’m hanging up.”

“No, no, don’t hang up. U
m, what were you asking me?”

“I’m asking if you would accompany me to the concert tonight.” He enunciated each word in a clipped, annoyed voice. She’d better answer before he changed his mind.

“Yes.”

“Well then. Good. I’ll pick you up at seven.” The dial tone was his goodbye. He and Gretchen must have attended the same etiquette school.

A rumbling in her stomach told her that despite breakfast being an hour away, she was hungry.

She swung her deformity over the edge of the bed
and pulled down her long nightgown. She considered her breakfast options as she wheeled into the kitchen. Should she eat Fruit Loops or granola? Did she want to be healthy? Nope. No way. Not after speaking to Ron. She needed comfort food.

A half an hour later, Sara pulled out her laptop. Her phone rang a moment later. Her heart rate picked up in that instant. Now she was excited to hear the phone. Because she had no real friends besides Gretchen, the options of people on the other end were
limited. Perhaps it was a new client for her web business. She could sure use the money.

“Hello, this is Sara.”

“Hi Sara. This is Steve Rowling. I saw your picture in an advertisement and you look like the kind of girl I’d want to create the web page for my bowling alley.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Rowling, What d
o you have in mind?”             

An hour
later, Sara started on Mr. Rowling’s new web page. She worked long and hard until late in the afternoon. When her eyes began to cross, she thought she should stop working before she became even more disabled than she already was. Besides, she had to get ready for a date.

Ron didn’t say anything about dinner so she’d better feed herself before she went. She was ornery enough around Ron
—add hunger to the mix and she might just have to kill him.

She ate, showered, primped, applied
makeup, and put on her favorite blouse. She exchanged the blanket for a long skirt. She’d have to be lifted from her chair into Ron’s car for this date. Spandex wrapped over her defect and worn under her skirt would have to be enough to keep people from seeing it. Spandex had always worked before, but she never felt completely safe with it. It was too darn easy to take it off.

A heavy knock on her door came at 6:59
PM. She opened the door and Ron stepped in. Sara had to admit he looked amazing. His brown, gelled hair looked rumpled, in a very planned and precise way. He was dressed in washed-out jeans. Under his black, fitted t-shirt, his muscles bulged and tapered down to a narrow waist. His blue eyes shone bright against his tanned face.

He stepped up and looked her over.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Just when he started to look good to her, he opened his mouth. Too bad the idiot wasn’t mute.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? This blouse is awesome.”

“No, not the blouse, the… wait a minute. You aren’t able to wear jeans, are you?”

“Listen, if you’re going to hound me about my disability, I think you should just sell me your ticket and we can go separately.”

“I don’t think so. Your disability is going to turn these tickets into front row seats. This band allows anyone in a wheelchair to sit in front with their dates.”

“Really?
I’ve never heard that.”

“It’s true, according to Donna from the mailroom.”

“So is that why you asked me on this date? So I can turn your tickets into front row seats?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t even like Indigo Spire. The front row seats are just a perk. No, I asked you because despite your being in a wheelchair, you’re beautiful, and I like being with beautiful women.” He winked, as if what he said should flatter her.

It didn’t flatter her. It infuriated her.
Despite your being in a wheelchair…
Where in the world did he learn to be such an ignorant jerk?

“
Well, it’s a lucky thing this crippled girl is beautiful enough to be asked out by you.” She smiled through gritted teeth.

“
Yes, it is.” He grinned. “Well, sweetheart, let’s go to this concert.”

This
night threatened to be a long one.

Half an hour
later, Ron wrapped Sara in his arms. Donna was right about the handicapped seating, they were awesome seats. But Ron didn’t have handicapped tickets. His tickets were for regular seats fifty rows back. He had to carry Sara up a hundred steps.

They left h
er beloved chair with security—after she threw a huge fit when Ron tried to leave it at the entrance. She looked at his furrowed and sullen face. He must still be steamed at her for causing a scene. She wouldn’t have
had
to cause a scene if he’d been reasonable. That chair was her only way of getting from one place to another.

“Wow, Sara, could you weigh
any more?” he asked huffing, sweat beading on his brow.

Her jaw dropped.
He did not just say that
. “I’m sorry, I’ve been meaning to lose a few pounds. I mean, a hundred and fifteen pounds makes me obese, right?”

“I don’t know about obese, but you definitely look lighter than you are.”

One, two, three…
She counted to ten in her head in an attempt to cool her temper before she opened her mouth.

“You’ll be worth the trouble, right?” He raised an eyebrow as he smiled.

She clenched her teeth and smiled back, reining in the venom she so wanted to spew at him. …
Eleven, twelve, thirteen
… She would be counting to a thousand the way things were going.

They reached their seats and Ron plopped her down just as the lights dimmed. A haunting melody billowed through the arena. Everyone around her stood, obscuring her view of the stage below. The music pulsed loud, beautiful, and she wished she could actually see the band. Tall bodies surrounded her, bringing her eye level with several gyrating butts—not what she was hoping to see tonight.

She lasted a full hour before she lowered herself to beg Ron to pick her up so she could see the stage. He smiled as he lifted her out of her seat, his eyes full of mischief. “Sure, but this is going to cost you more, sweetheart.” He obviously didn’t think she’d heard him. But she did hear the jerk. And if he thought he was going to get anything more than a thank you out of her, he was sorely mistaken.

Sara had decided to tell him to put her back on her seat when she glanced down to the stage and her breath caught. The sight astonished her.
Fog covered the stage, lights flashed, and the band looked like beautiful creatures from another world. She loved the song they played. She sang softly, mesmerized by the music. Her body rocked to the beat. Usually, she didn’t sing where others might hear, but with the loud music, it seemed pretty safe to sing quietly.

She felt Ron’s arms tighten around her and looked up. She immediately stiffened as a jolt of shock-driven adrenaline spiked her blood. Ron was no longer the clueless, fun-loving ignoramus she’d come to know and loathe. His eyes bore down on her and he looked hungry—not like wanting a pizza from the concessions hungry. More like a predator finding a fat juicy meal hungry.

“Ron? Is something wrong?” she asked, never more grateful to be surrounded by thousands of concertgoers.

“You’re so beautiful
,” he said.

“Ron? What is wrong with you? Could you please put me down?” She squirmed as she begged.