All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
The Edge of My Blade
The first thing that past through my mind was to check the salt. I padded into the kitchen in my night clothes, eyes scanning the window sill and back door. Both were intact. Next was the living room, hallway, office, foyer, Malcan's bed room, and all the windows in between. Malcan was still in his wolf form, curled up into a warm fluffy ball in the middle of his four poster, king sized bed. I never got why he chose to try and live a human life in this house but stayed in the body of a wolf. It was confusing, but he always said it was a lot more simple to him that way. I never argued with him about it.
I cautiously walked over to the side of his bed. The dirt from the surrounding forest was still fresh on his paws. He must have been patrolling off and on all night. I told him not to. In fact, I begged him not to for the fear of one of the demons finding and killing him. Sure, he was a skin walker, but he was the closest thing I had to family now. I loved him and he loved me. God, I should have woken up to make him stay and rest.
I left his room, gently shutting the door. I'd let him sleep to noon then wake him up. But, for the time being, I was going to make myself something to eat. The kitchen was something a chef could only dream of. Three separate ovens, four refrigerates, one pantry for food, another for salt, and enough hidden guns and knives to make any decent, paranoid American proud. White ash wood made up the the cabinets and granite counter tops completed the look of modern meets nature. It was peaceful. I practically lived in there. I walked over to the refrigerate to grab eggs and fresh veggies from our home garden in the backyard. Fresh bread was nicely wrapped on the counter next to the toaster. I could almost smell the toast burning already. But the thought was ruined when the hairs on the back of my neck stood at ends. I turned around, hitting the hiding place between the cabinets and the oven to put a pistol in my hand and aimed at the things head. I dropped my guard immediately. Zane stood leaning against the breakfast table. The trickster smiled at my surprised look on my face. If I wanted to even get close to a kill shot at him, I had to get to the knife dipped in lamb's blood the was under the floor board in front of the breakfast table. Just my luck.
Zane slowly walked around the table to stand before me. The only thing keeping us apart was section of counter top. My blood presser spiked when he stopped and stooped right in front of its hiding spot. He came back up with the only weapon that could kill him and turned it into dust that floated off in the invisible wind that always seemed to surround him. Fear struck in me and a sly grin creep across his face. Tossing back his strawberry-blond hair, he walked around the island to stand less than three feet in front of me. My skin crawled at the closeness of his body. “You know,” he started while playing with the pepper shaker near him, “you're coming off as pathetic holing up like this and thinking you can keep living on. I mean, really, salt?” Zane walked to the window gesturing to the thin line of salt that stood between me and a life a torture.
I sighed. “I have to protect myself some how.”
“But this way?!” He chuckled “Wow. The big, bad Ruth hiding in a house from the horrible demons.” He started to pace around the kitchen making me nervous. “People were depending on you and you turn tail and run away taking only one person, wait. No, thing, with you. You are just so selfish.”
“Get out, Zane.” I built up the nerve to point my pistol at his face.
Zane shook his head and made a tsk tsk sound at me. “Now that's not how you should treat your guest. Plus, that would kill me. Just tick me off.”
The safety on my gun clicked off. “I know.” I pulled the trigger to land right in between his eyes. Only it never met his skull. It stopped in mid air. Zane pinched it, flattening the bullet to a thin piece of metal. I gasped. He was mad.
“Now that we got that in the way, I'm here on business, not pleasure, sweetheart.” The smirk left his face to leave a grim frown in its place. He was trying to not let his anger get in the way. Zane must really need me. “You haven't been doing your job lately. And since you're not taking orders from anyone anymore, I figured I could come contract you.”
My blood started to turn cold. I didn't like the sound of this at all. Why didn't Malcan come in when I shot the gun?
“Say what you need and go.” I slid the pistol back into its hiding place, satisfied that he wouldn't try to kill me.
Zane chuckled again before reaching inside his suite to retrieve a piece of paper. “I have my demons. Now, I need you to kill them.”