RETURN || SCOTT MCCALL [1]

>>TWELVE<<

CHAPTER TWELVE ll FIREPROOF

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"I'M SORRY, YOU'LL need to repeat yourself, because I'm almost one hundred percent sure I heard you wrong.."

"Indi, I'm not saying it again, just get your cute little butt to Derek's loft." Lydia huffs, fed up with my inane questioning.

I roll my eyes. "Okay, okay, but seriously, just one more time and I'll stop." There's a pause. "Seriously, Lyds, I promise!"

Lydia huffs again, but I tell she was mostly amused even over the phone. "We both know you're promises mean nothing when we're not face to face." She complies, none the less. "Parrish was attacked by an assassin who trapped him in his car, covered it in gasoline, and set the whole thing on fire."

"And then he somehow turned up at the station without a burn on his scrumptious body?" I continue, laughing when Lydia makes a vaguely shocked noise. "Relax, Lyds, we both know you've already unintentionally called dibs."

"I did no such thing." she lies. "But yes, so get down here now."

I snort, slamming my car door behind me. "I'm already here."

The call ends after that, and I laugh before barging into the loft, smiling at the four moping people occupying the scarcely furnished abode.

"He covered you in gasoline?" I greet, gaze on a clean looking Parrish, who jumps at my sudden appearance, and I smiled innocently, noting super hearing wasn't on the list for whatever he was.

Lydia, who is standing with Scott, rolls her eyes. "Yes, and burned him. This is the seventh time now?" I stuck my tongue out at her, and she laughed, turning back to where Derek was staring at Parrish, who had a bewildered expression on his face.

"So wait.. What's a Kanima?"

I snort. "So you guys gave him 'The Talk'?"

Parrish looks even more confused, if that's possible. "The Talk? You guys do realize I'm older than you, right? And, well, not a virgin."

Lydia, positively pink at the moment, closes her eyes, as if summoning a dwindling patience, holding up a hand to the curious deputy. "We'll get back to that." We most likely wouldn't. "Just know that everyone like us, everyone with some kind of supernatural ability, is on the dead pool."

"But I don't even know what I am." Parrish points out.

"I'm pretty sure they don't care." I retort, twirling a lock of blond around my finger to avoid his panicked gaze.

Parrish frowns, gaze falling on each of us, before asking uneasily, "How many professional assassins are we talking about?"

The four of us exchange a look. "We're... starting to lose count."