The Hybrid's Assassin

Ten

I stood by the front door, smiling and offering small talk to the guards who obliviously served their duties. Carl and Antonio were their names. Both of these men were at first wary of my appearance near the front door, but once I told them that I was there waiting to make sure that Domitius arrived back safe, all hostilities ceased.

They of course believed me, I plastered on my casual 'girl next door' smile and they were instantly talking to me as though we were old friends from times long ago. It made me feel sick knowing that they were going out of their way, so desperate to be polite.

I hated positive people.

It was about twenty minutes later, much to my relief, that Domitius staggered in the front door. He looked like a mess, but a sexy one at that if I dare give him credit where it is due.

His hair was messily tousled, loose curls of dark hair giving him an almost elfish appearance and his olive skin was covered in a thin coating of dust and dirt. His eyes were red, almost like he had been crying.

But no, he couldn't have been crying. Surely not.

He took one look at me and fell to the floor, a mess of tanned limbs, sweat and on-edge aura. Two men who I had presumed to be on guard outside at the time quickly emerged from the bushes, stress carved onto their faces. They quickly helped Domitius off of the floor and started to move him up stairs to his bedroom.

Carl and Antonio followed behind, questioning the two new arrivals and offering to help. This was too easy, it was concerning. I slipped out of the open door and ran.

The icy wind through my hair made me smile. I had always loved running, the sensation of wind against your face was something that I could never get enough of. That was exactly why motorbikes were my preferred mode of transport, even though cars were unfortunately more practical the vast majority of the time. I loved speed.

I escaped into the woods quite successfully, there were no resounding sounds of mirrored footsteps, no calls for me to stop, no flashlights, no sirens. It was as though no one had noticed that I had slipped away.

Something seemed to pang in my chest, and I wasn't sure what exactly it was. I was running. It seemed to be a rather successful escape attempt, why wasn't I happier? I had escaped initial detection, yet it felt as though my chest was being weighed down.

I continued to run, weaving through the trees. I didn't have the time to focus on this strange, foreign feeling in my chest. I had to make sure that I disappeared.

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I had been running for some time before I came to a stop. I quickly worked on regaining my breath and listened, trying to identify what was in the dark. Crickets and an owl, somewhere to my left. Nothing out of place whatsoever, just my own breathing and the sounds of the night.

I took off my sweater, exposing my hot skin to the cool air and threw it as far away as I could manage. I then started to retrace my footsteps, and after what was perhaps a mile or so, I branched off to the left and started to create another scent trail. It was once I had travelled some distance that I once again began to retrace my steps.

That was when the night started to empty of sound.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge, and instantly I was aware that people were close.

The crickets that had before been a comforting reminder of isolation had vanished, and I knew that I was no longer the only person in this part of the woods.

Running would be reckless, they would be alerted to the sudden sound instantly, and walking would be far too slow. So I eyed the grand oak that was positioned to my left and started to climb, moving my way through the branches as quietly as I could manage.

Dogs trace smell by the trail of dead skin cells left behind by their target, not necessarily body odour, that meant that they would be disadvantaged if I left no skin cells behind. A difficulty of course, but perhaps not completely impossible.

I had already left two faulty dead end trails, so it wouldn't take long before they would begin to understand that I was retracing my footsteps. It was then that they would start to branch out from the trails, they would find my sweater, but not me.

If I travelled by tree top, the amount of skin cells I left behind on the ground would be limited, meaning that my trail would be weaker and would ultimately work in my favour. So I settled into the tree top and awaited the wolves who were disturbing the woods to pass, no doubt led off by one of my decoy trails.

I had been sitting for about five minutes when the first shadowy figure broke through the trees.

Three wolves led the pack, sniffing the ground and carving their way through the dirt and leaves that littered the ground. Two men followed behind, examining the ground, no doubt for footprints, and anxiously scratching their heads. One smaller wolf followed behind, sniffing the ground nervously and occasionally lifting his head to take a sniff of the air.

His head was instantly smacked back towards the ground by one of the men. "Head down Flinn, don't waste our time."

I froze. What was Flinn doing here? Did Mary send him? He sure looked out of place.

Flinn cautiously raised his head and sniffed the air once more. Curiously, he looked around at the trees. I held my breath.

He shook his head and looked back down at the ground, running to catch up with the rest of the people.

I exhaled with relief and waited a while after they had disappeared before moving again.

So far, so good.

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