#dreadfamed

As a child, her well meaning parents had often told her the old adage: don’t poke the bear.  

Camille had apparently decided to throw that lesson out the window and was carrying a big enough stick to ensure that she would not be ignored (although if she was trying to be more accurate she was about to grab the wolf by the tail and give it a good hard yank). 

There should be fear in her; and there probably was.  She just couldn’t feel it after it had been stamped down by the heel of her anger.  She moved through the Quarter, slipping in and out of crowds with purpose.

By the time she reached his home, she had a fleeting moment of self doubt.  She could turn around right here, retrace her steps and forget that she had ever come here in the first place.  

Instead of doing that (and leaving the wolf alone), she moved forward, standing in the middle of the courtyard.  Her head tipped back. 

   She can feel him there. What little she can feel, she recognizes instantly. Behind her and to the left slightly is her hybrid. Or at least, as much of him that can walk in her dreams. 

   “ I don’t want to wake back up,” she says without uncurling from her sheets. “ You’ll be gone when I wake up. I’ll still be here. Alone again.”

  ‘  i brought him here to kill him  --  i’m hoping you will help your baby sister out?  ‘ 

           ❛ A jedi. ❜    He repeated the words slowly, his lip all but curling in distaste. That she had been witness to his compulsion meant only that she now bore a target centered upon her chest. It rendered her a nuisance, and nothing more. But he did not find not the horror he would expect in her voice, but a curiosity almost frustrating in its naivete. He could tell, however, whether her words are meant in earnest or as a  m o c k e r y. He was not sure, regardless, which would infuriate him the more. His words came more petulantly than he had intended.    ❛ You’ve got to be kidding me. ❜

   The sound of his keys in the front door threatens to undo her. She thought she was strong enough, brave enough to face this. But now she isn’t so sure. Nik is home now and he will know everything.

   Her mouth opens to tell him that she’s in the bathroom yet no sound comes out. She can’t force it out. Her throat closes up around itself and she lets out a little sob instead.

   He will find her sitting on the bathroom floor, knees drawn up. Face hidden by her hair because she can’t make herself look at him. Not when this could mean the end of them. The end of everything.

   She can only wait for him to discover the three at home pregnancy tests on the counter.

   “ Are you serious? You really want to . . . You want to go pick apples together?”

   It sounds fun. She’s never done it before. She would love to go explore the orchard they saw on their way up to this little weekend getaway. The idea that Nik would want to go out and do something like that, well. . . it makes her a little excited.

She’s heard gunshots before. She’s been with Nik on the shooting range. She’s seen him on the shooting range. She’s learned to shoot a gun. Just in case, Nik says, the day before his deployment. Just in case.

It occurs to her that she does not have the gun with her now. Here, in the mall. She does not know that she would be any use with it if she did. Not when there are so many people around. Families, children, elderly. All of them now hiding, pressing themselves flat to the ground to avoid anymore bullets.

There was just the few gunshots at first. Then a lot of yelling (that’s the police, she recognizes the way the officer talks) and more gunshots. The robber and the police.

To be honest, she was glad the cops were there finally. She just wished Nik was. She just wished the shooting was done.

It seems like it takes forever for a young officer to wander in and give the all clear. To inform them that they’re all safe now, the threat has been ‘neutralized’. Only the young ones talk like that. 

It’s surreal. Her hands are still shaking. Her body feels like it’s full of both helium and lead. She doesn’t really want to see, but she finds herself moving towards the entrance of the little tea shop all the same. There are even more cops, first responders, emergency workers. A couple of lines of people who are being guided out of the building. 

She wonders where she should go.

She wonders if she should call Nik.

But then she doesn’t have to. Nik is there. She can see him. She’s very positive that is Nik. It looks like Nik. It stands like Nik. It’s dressed like Nik--who would consequently be dressed like the other officers.