Enterprise - Act 2
Hanna glanced down without realizing it, her cheeks flushing. He was looking at her like that again. Instantly she looked up so as not to miss his gorgeous eyes. His gaze was still locked intently on her. Matt was the only one who listened to her.
“Keep going,” he encouraged, brushing a strand of his thick blond hair from his eye. “What did they look like?”
Hanna shifted her shoulders inside her denim jacket which suddenly felt uncomfortably tight. She knew she wasn’t supposed to tell, but he was looking at her with such rapt attention she didn’t want to disappoint him.
“Well,” she explained modestly, “they weren’t much taller than normal guys, but it was dark, so it was hard to tell. They kinda strutted about like they weren’t even afraid of getting caught – not like bad guys from on TV or anything who are all hunched over and shifty.”
“What were their faces like?” Matt pressed, imperceptibly leaning in a bit closer over the cafeteria table. Most of Hanna’s ‘friends’ had abandoned her since the tale had started circulating that she cut herself for attention, and Matt had been pegged early on as a troubled child, so the two were alone this particular lunch hour.
“Their faces?” Hanna closed her eyes, thinking back to the night which seemed more and more like a nightmare. The more she discussed it –really, only with Matt– the less terrifying it seemed and the more the entire thing excited her. “They were sort of bumpy... I don’t know, kinda angry looking, but like they were stuck that way– and their eyes were like cats eyes... or wolves eyes.”
Matt’s smile faded from his eyes to nothing more than a token twist of the lips. His own memory was fuzzy but still very present. The school was right; he was a troubled child. “And they had fangs.”
“Of course,” Hanna said, not catching his vague unease. “That’s how I knew they were vampires.” She leaned in closer with a conspiratorial whisper. “People say they don’t exist – but they do. Kirsty better watch out or one of them will eat her and her whole family.”
Now the smile had left Matt altogether. He blinked once. “That’s not a very nice thing to say,” he said distantly, looking at some invisible point on her shirt. If she noticed she didn’t let on. “Then your dad came?”
Hanna nodded enthusiastically, getting to the good part. “He totally kicked their butts. He did this whole lightning thing from his fingers and they were, like, poof! gone, just like that.”
Now Matt had a hard time concealing the smirk which had left Hanna eating her lunches alone. “He shot lightning from his fingers?” he asked, trying hard to suppress the sarcasm. She really was cute, even if she was just making all this up.
“I know how it sounds,” she defended sternly, “like some kind of fairy tale. But none of you were there. I was and I know what I saw.” She looked into his still smiling eyes, searching for some trace of respect. Then the bell rang.
Matt stood first, clearing away the remains of his lunch. “Well, I have to get to class.” Hanna was still sitting, staring at where he had been. He sensed her pending disappointment and nudged her elbow. “See you in English?”
After a moment, she perked up. “Sure.” And then he was gone.
Morosely, she dumped her lunch debris into the trash can and made her way to the girls washroom. Resolved to spend a good five minutes feeling crappy about her decision to tell anyone what had happened, she didn’t notice the dark form standing behind the door until it closed. Then the hand closed around her mouth and the last thing she heard before she passed out was a deep an amused laugh.
Logan brought the coffee to his lips and winced. It was too hot. Damn his bad luck. He stared out the window of the small coffee shop and glanced up at the wall clock. Back at the office in twenty minutes. Give or take. He blew on the coffee to cool it. Sip. Damn.
The scalding liquid he had managed to pull into his mouth came out in a spray as Niki strolled past the window, looking directly at him. He quickly wiped his mouth and stood from his small table as she turned in the door and approached his table with a perfectly stoic expression. Without a word, however, she sat down at the table beside his, her back to the window.
“Sit down,” she said with a harsh whisper. “And don’t look at me.” She pretended to rummage around in her jacket pockets for a minute but continued talking. “I’m being followed. Just play along. Pretend you don’t know me.”
Logan stood and stared at her with a perplexed expression. After a moment of watching her ignore him, he shrugged and sat. It was broad daylight. How could a demon or vampire be following her? He decided to ask her.
“Never mind,” she hissed, finding the napkin dispenser suddenly in need of her attention. “I need you to think back to when you made the bracelets. The silver ones. You remember?”
Logan shrugged. “Yeah, I remember,” he said into the rim of his coffee cup. Sip. Damn. He winced. “What about them?”
“Is there any way you could tell one that you made from one that someone else made?”
“What’s this all—” he began, but a crumpled napkin landed in his lap bearing the weight of something metal.
“Just do it. I’ll be in touch,” without another word she stood and marched towards the door, her eyes shifting furiously around the busy street, looking for someone she was sure was there.
Logan’s puzzlement reached its peak. “How did you know where I eat—” he turned around but she was already gone. Lunch. He sighed, finishing his thought.
Sip. Damn.
Niki practically leapt out of the taxi and marched into the lobby of her apartment building. She tapped the elevator call button rapidly, glancing over her shoulder as the doors opened. She turned around with a start.
“Hello,” Harrison smiled, standing with his hands on his hips in the elevator. “Looking for me?”
“Get the hell out of my elevator,” she said through clenched teeth. Her eyes slowly widened as he drew a blue, folded piece of paper. He dangled the paper before her with a grin. Her jaw dropped slightly, images of him searching her apartment entering her mind. Closets full of weapons...
“You are eligible,” he read from the brochure as he unfolded it, “for a full day spa treatment with the purchase of any–” Her fist connected with his face, sending him sprawling back into the elevator wall.
She grabbed his lapels and shoved him from the elevator just before the doors closed. With a hand covering her mouth, she rode the lift up to the ninth floor, trying to calm her racing heart. He could have... She shook her head. Calm down. Get your head together, she told herself. She finally relaxed when she got to her door and found it still locked.
Niki took a deep breath. Of course he hadn’t broken in. He wanted an airtight case against her. No tricks, no deceptions—
Her eyes met the whiteboard hanging on her fridge door. For a moment her heart must surely have stopped.
Do not be deceived. Meet me at Time Square - 7pm
Niki walked slowly through the kitchen, through the living room to the window by her bedroom door. On the street, nine storeys below, was a black car. Inside was Harrison. A shiver went up the Slayer’s spine. All the thoughts and jumbled mess of the joke that was her life were crushed suddenly under an unbearable weight. She missed her parents.
Logan fingered the silver bracelet, wrapped still in its crumpled napkin, stuffed deep into his khaki jacket pocket. With a familiar tone, the imitation wood elevator doors opened, letting him back to his office floor just in time. More or less.
Like something from a Discovery Channel special, heads popped up from cubicles to see who had arrived. Upon seeing Logan, most dropped back down again. All except that of Eric Quinlan, the slightly balding prosecutor who was hand-holding Logan through the process of getting his promotion in the firm. Though Eric was an excellent prosecutor and junior partner of Morgan, Lewis & Bockius, his job had somehow become a dead end and though he wouldn’t admit it, he knew his head was on the chopping block if the merger took place.
“Hey Kilpatrick,” Eric waved his pencil in Logan’s direction. “You got a message while you were out.”
“Who called?” he asked, walking by to his own desk.
“Not a call,” Eric corrected, “an actual message.” He dropped the envelope on Logan’s desk. The prosecutor remained, waiting to see what was so important it came in a black envelope, but Logan gave him a look which could wilt flowers. With placative smile, Eric returned to his own business.
Logan tapped the envelope on-end on his desk, then tore the leading edge open to find out what was inside. With a jerk he emptied the contents onto the various papers on his desk. There was neither amusement nor trust on his face as he reached out for the simple folded piece of paper. With an easy flip he opened it.
We have your daughter. Wait for further instructions.
The words began to blur as the letter trembled in Logan’s trembling hand. With a jerk he pulled his hand back from the paper and wrung his hand. His fingertips had burned through the page leaving small black-edged holes. The slight wisp of smoke rising from the page curled around his face as he stood. His face was the color of the smoke and his hands were still trembling.
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