Marked By Shadows

Chapter 10

Georgia was running through the woods. She had always liked going for runs, and they calmed her. David ran with her, their pace the same. David always seemed surprised at how Georgia could run for what seemed like forever and not get tired. Then, it came to his mind that she had been brought up in the mountains, so she was familiar with long distances, high elevation, and struggling to breathe. The wind blew through Georgia's red hair, which was in a ponytail rather than her normal messy bun. David looked at her left hand and saw the faded wedding ring.

"How long has it been since he passed?" he asked in a soft tone. Georgia looked at him.

"Two years." Pain showed in her emerald eyes, and David nodded.

"I'm sorry... it's hard to lose someone you love." His Irish accent was intense, like Georgia's, but he tried his best to hide it. Georgia nodded.

"Yeah... but I have Owen and that's enough." She smiled weakly, stood up, and they went back on their run.

Aspen sat in the kitchen drawing a bowl of fruit. She groaned in frustration.

"Why is fruit so still!?" she muttered, looking around for something else to draw. She went up to the roof and drew the sun and the sky, the warm wind blowing through her hair. Georgia came up and sat next to her and watched Aspen draw. Georgia smiled.

"You have a gift. Who taught you to draw so well?" she asked and Aspen looked up.

"I sort of learned on my own. Fighting tends to get a bit boring when you keep getting kicked out of school you learn to have a quieter, simpler hobby," she said simply and Georgia nodded.

"Well, you're a very talented artist." Aspen shrugged.

"I'm not that good, I just doodle." Georgia nodded and looked at the mountain peaks that were visible from the league. Aspen watched and added the mountain peaks to the drawing.

...

"Buttons stupid buttons, stupid clothes," murmured Mike Jones. He had few things in the world he liked. The list was confined to chili peppers, sweat pants, sweat, action movies, football, short flings, and everything else he disliked. The bazaar, like most Middle Eastern marketplaces, was swarming with shoppers and an overabundance of sellers who canted almost musically about why you should buy fruits or spices or cloth or whatever else they were selling. He hated this place! All a person could do is sweat and spit sand. He fixed the collar of his tight government uniform with his massive calloused hands.

He walked on searching the faces, and no matter how the merchants tried to stop him he walked on. He was on assignment. He measured out everyone like the hot desert sun, no one could escape his menacing gaze which radiated from his hard blue eyes. His short brown hair blew in the fragrant breeze. The heat burned his face and the chiseled hard features.

"Andy! Anthony!" he yelled, at last, spotting his target. He bounded over in long strides. He towered everyone in the marketplace and shoved whoever was in his way.

"Speak of the devil ...Mike," Andy said, turning. He had a softer face but not by much he had dreamy eyes, yet without warning they could snap like a cobra. He was handsome with brown hair and a strong build.

"You're going to help me," Mike announced.

"I am fine, thanks for asking," Andy smirked and slipped off into an alley.

"You're going to help me," Mike repeated, pursuing him.

"Yeah, but that does not sound like something I would do... See you?" Andy tried to slide away but Mike did not look at all amused.

"I need you to find Aspen," Mike explained.

Andy stopped walking and turned "For how much?" He asked.