Chase took a step back. Holton had turned to reveal the dying flickers of bright blue flames burning in the runes on his ivory white skull. Even with his own supernatural status, the abilities of others had never ceased to amaze Chase. He shook his head for a moment, then regained his composure. The cop signaled for him to follow, then squirmed his skinny self into the crowd.
Chase watched the back of Holton’s head as it bobbed away into the mass of bodies surrounding them. He followed at a slower pace, hindered by his broader stature, and the cop disappeared from sight. Chase had, had more than a whiff of the ivory skulled undead’s scent, and was confident he would be able to follow it.
Johanssen pushed past a few rude journalists, who had stuck their hands out to stop them from passing. One of them accidentally slapped her breast and proceeded to apologize profusely for it, blushing furiously, and melting away into the crowd of reporters. Johanssen had nodded her head in acceptance of the apology, her mouth screwed up into a ferocious scowl. But once the reporter had disappeared, Chase was sure he spotted the telltale signs of a smile dancing on her lips.
Now walking side by side, the two of them weaved their way through the crowd at a leisurely pace, affording Chase the time to fill his partner in. Johanssen blinked slowly at mention of the Reapers, but otherwise remained silent. Her hand lifted from her side, and in their silent language, Chase immediately knew to pass her the card.
She scrutinized it, not paying attention to the people in front of her. It was okay. They scrambled apart when they spotted Chase’s mammoth frame, illuminated by the bright street lights. Cameras flashed around them at a rapid pace and reporters kept shouting “Detective!” Chase ignored them for the most part, find himself unable to muster up the energy within him to express anger.
There was always this oddly calming aura that surrounded Johanssen. Normally, Chase would have welcomed the feeling with open arms. On more than one occasion, it had helped to keep him in check when his more feral like temper swelled. But there were other times, decidedly frustrating times, when the aura had mixed with Chase’s present feelings to produce a maddening feeling of confusion. Anger mixed with ease, fear mixed with the flat feeling of utter calm…He shook his head, shuddering at the thoughts.
Johanssen caught this movement and looked at him, a confused expression on her face,
“You okay?”“Yeah.” There were things he didn’t pry about with Johanssen. Thing he thought she ought to keep to herself, till it was show and tell time, the way Chase hid his lycanthropy from her, constantly telling himself he would tell her when the time was right. He believed that, if he let Johanssen keep her deep dark secrets, she would feel less shocked when he told her his. A trade of sorts. And then they would be able to go on as though nothing had changed, as if they were still both normal human partners.
It sounded like wishful thinking, on his part, but he clung to the ideal anyway.
There was a tense feeling building up in Chase’s chest, the sort of feeling that told him something bad was bound to happen. The sun had sunken well below the horizon, and the sky had turned an inky black color. Pollution, lifting up from the city in thick black plumes, hid the stars from sight.
Holton had thoroughly melted into the crowd, though Chase kept his nostrils upturn, flared, tracking the skull down like a bloodhound on a fox. Johanssen followed quietly, merely believing in Chase's intuition. When they had first been introduced, she had, more often than once, regarded him with suspicious. He had been the victim of thorough questioning, and mistrustful glances. But they had fallen into ease after three months of mysteriously executed actions.
Before Chase could reach Holton, a deep sound, like the the buzz of electricity slowed and deepened, rung out through the air. Then the world went black.
Chaos broke out among the citizens. People stampeding everywhere, screaming, pulling, pushing, tripping, falling...Chase felt someone grab him by the sleeve of his elbow and tug him towards what Chase supposed was to be the clearest space Johanssen could find. But Chase, with his bright, night piercing eyes snatched his small friend under her body and hoisted him onto her shoulder.
"Chase!" I shouted indignantly, weaving my fingers through the detective's thick brown hair as he hauled me onto the length of his shoulders, grinning mischievously in the shallow glint of moonlight engulfing our rather dark world.
"Hold on," he warned needlessly. I had already wrapped my hands as tight as possible around his head. His brunette hair, normally slicked back on his head (with some effort) had loosened to a magnificent mane, framing his face handsomely. I wondered, for a brief moment, why he didn't leave his hair be more often, then quickly remembered the hindrance long hair could cause the eyes. I decided i would advice him to tie his hair somehow, perhaps clip it at the back of his head. It had reached a length where the idea was plausible.
He strode confidently between the thick wave of bodies colliding with his own, making his way to where the crowd seemed to thin. He never stumbled, never faltered in the dark; his bear like hands never reached forward to feel his way to safety. Instead, his yellow wolfish eyes seemed to have carved a proper path out from billowing crowd.
When we had reached safety, he set me down carefully. We had arrived at the his sedan. I noticed, a bit irritably, that had been dented on the side, probably the result of the frenzy.
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