Predator in disguise

Burden

"Alec's partner?" I repeated, taking JC's hand.

"Does that surprise you?" JC's grip tightened.

"Last time I checked," I said, unflinching, "Shadowhunters worked alone. It's hard enough watching your own back, let alone guarding someone else's, too."

Alec snorted and began weaving his lighter in and out of his fingers. "Working solo hasn't exactly done us any favors."

JC finally dropped my hand. "Not unless you have a death wish."

It was true. The number of Shadowhunter casualties had risen drastically over the past few months. Stumbling upon a Nephilim's body had become a daily routine. Even more unnerving was the consistent lack of telltale signs revealing the cause of death. Not one of the bodies displayed stab wounds, strangulation marks, fang marks or any other life threatening injuries. It was if they had simply collapsed to the ground, gone, dead. Still, those of us that remained were not lining up to recruit fellow Shadowhunters into the "buddy system". For all we knew, the murders were an inside job. Trust became a possession, a lifeline, never to be put into another Shadowhunter's hands...until now, it seemed.

"I'm going to have a shower," JC announced. "If Magnus sees me like this he'll have a fit."

"Dress up when you're done. Tonight we're hitting the town."

The only response was the closing of the bathroom door down the hall. I studied Alec in silence as he flicked the lighter and watched the mesmerizing dance of the small flame. The fire licked at his callused fingertips as he passed them over it, his face impassive. Clearly, Alec did not trust strangers easily. He'd been cynical enough to point a dagger at my throat while I was laying on the ground, bleeding. With his strength and fearlessness, he was a natural rogue, only taking orders from himself. And yet, the piercing in his eyebrow, black eyeliner and the desire to rest his dirty footwear on the furniture screamed rebel. He was different, a renegade. Why had he abandoned solitude for a partnership? Was it just to break the mould? To stand out? Or was there something buried deep inside him that convinced him to shuffle the cards? Perhaps an underlying fear of being alone?

"Word to the wise." Alec interrupted my train of thought. "You shouldn't ogle people like that."

"What?"

"It's off-putting." He wrinkled his nose. "And creepy."

"You should take it as a compliment."

"Why's that?" Alec asked, his tone hinting at defensiveness.

"Because," I said, admiring my fingernails, "I'm not usually the one staring; I'm usually the one getting stared at."

Alec flicked the cap of his lighter shut, extinguishing the flame and the tension in the room. "You are a nice piece of cougar bait. No doubt about it."

I pressed my hand to my chest, feigning flattery. "Oh, Alexander. You just tickle my insides."

Alec laughed, and my smile mirrored his. He opened his mouth to speak but another voice cut in:

"You know, the conversation is flowing pretty freely for someone who prefers a one man wolf pack."

I swivelled my head around and caught JC back in the kitchen, his hip propped against the counter as he scrubbed at his dripping hair with a towel. Though he'd kept his tone light, the spite dripping behind his words did not slip past my ears. But he did have a point; I'd only met Alec a short time ago, -- under questionable circumstances -- but here I sat, talking and joking with him as if he was my brother, not a complete and potentially dangerous stranger. I'd let my guard slip for a bout of conversation.