2. H O L Y W A R : Target

CHAPTER XII

TO HATCH A CAMSTER

(Sorry, that's a bad pun but I could help myself :)

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Cameron trudged into her kitchen, yawning and rubbing her eyes.

"Mornin', Cam!"

Cameron let out an earsplitting shriek, leaping backward and plastering herself against the wall.

Hatchet grinned at her from where he stood in front of the oven, wearing an apron as he flipped pancakes on the stove. "Whup! Sorry 'bout that," he apologized. "Forgot how jumpy you were—which is ironic, all things considered." He lifted a pancake in the air with the spatula. "Flapjack?"

Cameron stared at him incredulously. "What are you doing in my house?!" she gasped out.

Hatchet frowned. "Defendin' ya. Y'know, from all the ne'er-do-wells lurkin' 'round the corner. Kinda my job, remember? B'sides, this ain't too weird. I've been here for almost a month."

"You've been here? In my house?" Cameron repeated, moving away from the wall.

"Yeup. I've been watchin' over ya like a, a, a mother hen over her chicks. Sorry if that's a little creepy," Hatchet added, "but it's really, really necessary."

Cameron nodded shakily, inching toward her coffee machine. "So... you've seen everything I've been doing?"

"Not everything," Hatchet corrected her. "I don't follow ya into the bathroom or nothin' weird like that. But outside a' that... yeah, pretty much everything."

Cameron shivered. "A dragon has been watching me eat and sleep for the past three weeks," she whispered, completely freaked out.

"Four, actually," Hatchet told her, pouring some more batter into the frying pan. "And it's not as bad as it sounds—trust me."

Cameron laughed in disbelief. "Trust you! Trust someone who's been living in my house for the last month without me knowing?"

"You're gonna have to. I'm your bodyguard, Camster."

Cameron turned around and leaned back against the island. "Camster?" she repeated.

"Yeah! Y'know, like 'hamster' but with 'Cam'." Hatchet wagged the spatula at her teasingly. "Don't be gripin' about it, now—I've got a bunch of nicknames like that."

Cameron raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah! So far, I've got 'Cams', 'Cammy', 'Camzilla', 'Cam-Kong', 'Cam-stop', 'Cameroo', 'Camcún', 'Cam-a-rama'—and, of course, 'Camster'. Pretty clever, huh, Cam-cakes?"

Cameron scowled.

"Okay, I'll drop that one," Hatchet said quickly. "But the rest are good, right?"

Cameron threw up her hands, turning back to the coffee machine. "Unbelievable." She planted her hands on the island, leaning forward with a ragged sigh. "And what do I call you?" she asked, exasperated. "Just Defender, or what?"

"Actually, my real name's Defensor. Defensor Securis Drake. But I go by 'Hatchet' or 'Hatch', 'cuz that's what 'Securis' is Latin for."

"Uh-huh." Cameron pulled her mug out from under the coffeemaker's nozzle and sipped from it, staring at Defender through half-open eyes. "'Hatchet' it is, then," she sighed.

"Cool beans! We havin' fun yet, Cam-a-rama?"

"Please stop," Cameron moaned.

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