The prompt this week was "“Funny how your eyes always look away when you say that" . . . .
Marek and Brody's story continue . . .
Broken Promise, III
Curled close to Marek’s stiff body, Brody lay awake in shadowy darkness. Marek had refused to take refuge in the closet, where Julian was sleeping. They’d moved the bed so sunlight couldn’t intrude into the safe darkness underneath.
“Come on out from under there, Brody.”
Brody rolled out from under the bed so fast, he banged his head on the cheap frame. He hadn’t heard the door open. Backing into the wall, he looked up at the stranger. He was wearing faded jeans, a bulky black sweater, and silvery gray boots polished to a shine. Melting snow made puddles around his feet.
“Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Marek’s half-breed,” he said, as if that explained something. “Brought you some food.”
“You’re his what?”
The stranger set a greasy white paper bag, innocent of golden arches or Wendy’s smiling face, on the iron radiator. “Half vampire, half human. Name’s Greyson. Been looking after their royal majesties for going on a hundred ninety six years now.”
Brody pushed himself slowly up the wall, not taking his eyes off Greyson. His body was heavy with muscle, and he moved like a warrior. “Marek didn’t tell me about you,” Brody said.
“He’s got a few hundred years on you,” Greyson said. “Must be a load of things he didn’t tell you yet.”
The tempting smell of fries and a greasy burger came from the bag. Brody was starving. He eased around Greyson, snagged the bag and unwrapped the burger. “How’d you get up here in the storm?”
Alarms went off in Brody’s head. “Marek and Julian couldn’t see enough to drive, how did you do it?”
“They wouldn’t keep going with you in the truck. They can walk away from a wreck. You can’t.”
“I’m half-breed,” Greyson said.
“Funny how your eyes always look away when you say that,” Brody said, taking a bite of the burger.
“No one cares if I get in a wreck coming up here,” Greyson said. “I come when they call, or they hunt me and kill me.”
Brody remembered Marek taking shelter in the last bit of dark just before sunrise, talking urgently into his cell phone. “You’re the one he called?”
“Finish eating.” Greyson was bent over the shabby desk, searching through drawers. He pulled out a beat up deck of cards. "Then you go back under the bed and I play solitaire till sundown.”
Brody ran his eyes over the bulges under Greyson’s sweater. That wasn’t just muscle. “You always pack an arsenal?” he said.
“No. Just when I’m working.” Greyson turned in a slow circle, taking in the shattered chair, the closet, the bed pushed up against the wall. “Can’t defend anything in here,” he muttered. “Not a goddamn thing.”
“Are the Hunters coming?”
“Trouble’s coming,” Greyson said, his eyes on the blowing snow beyond the window. “We’ll be on the move tonight, and it won’t be a smooth ride. Best if you get some rest.”
Brody finished the burger, slipped under the bed and laid his head against Marek’s cool chest. There was no soothing heartbeat, only the comforting bulk of his mate’s cool body and the memory of Marek’s promise to love him forever.
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