Chapter 21

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He was literally there out of nowhere.

One second, Roscoe was looking through his night goggles at a debris strewn lawn, next second the boy stood there, annoyingly good looking and pale. Roscoe jumped and almost dropped the goggles.

"Sir?" Klavens, the man next to him, had his voice barely above a whisper, but Roscoe saw Apollo tilt his head slightly.

Roscoe shook off the uneasy feeling that the kid could hear them - they were yards away, damn it!

"I'm not blind." He snapped. "Cover me."

Klavens dutifully trained his rifle on the tall figure on the lawn, and Roscoe strode out confidently from the safety of the trees. He noted as he approached that the boy was dusty, and his clothes were torn. Roscoe narrowed his eyes slightly in confusion; had he been pulled out of the wreckage? Where were his wounds?

Apollo regarded him steadily, his face calm. Roscoe felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle though; Apollo's bright green eyes looked icy and lethal, like the point of a knife. The boy practically oozed danger, and Roscoe was surprised to find that he was itching to do a 180 and run back into the safety of the trees.

How had he not noticed how lethal the boy was before now?

"Apollo." Roscoe said smoothly, his face betraying none of his fear.

Apollo's eyes flashed and seemed to slice right through the older man. "Ted, my pleasure. It's a nice night, don't you agree?"

Roscoe bristled. He had just blew up his damn house and the kid wanted to fake pleasantries? He should've been begging for his life.

"Cut the crap, little boy." Roscoe sneered. "Where is Lilah Winters?"

Apollo waved a hand vaguely to the wreck behind him. "Oh, somewhere in there."

Roscoe was alarmed. "Did she get hurt?"

A cruel sort of smile spread across Apollo's face and Roscoe's gut screamed at him to get the hell out of there. "I assumed a man like you was smarter, Ted. You really thought only the house would suffer when you threw a silly grenade at it? Your intelligence level is astonishingly low."

"Is the girl dead?" Roscoe snarled through his teeth. He was seeing red; good heavens! That damn Ambrosia had the audacity to insult him. If he hadn't had any self control, he would have signaled his men to kill him already.

"Oh no, she's alive." Apollo said casually, regarding Roscoe with steely eyes. "She's a very... Special girl. I assume you know that from your last encounter."

Roscoe glared back at Apollo furiously. "You mean... You mean when she..."

"You're not going mad Ted." Apollo's voice was soft, and it hung in the cold air between them like stars. "There's something wrong with her, very wrong. She's unstable and fragile - the girl is a time bomb. Are you sure she's worth all this effort? There are so many other girls for you to pick from... The world is yours for the choosing."

Roscoe stared at Apollo, transfixed. His voice was hypnotizing, so convincing...

"If she's a time bomb." Roscoe said slowly. "Why were you so willing to let her stay with you?"

Apollo was silent. Even without the moon shining down on him, he was very pale, but Roscoe knew he wasn't imagining it when he saw the boy grow paler.

"You really thought you could manipulate me?" Roscoe grinned coldly. "I don't know what the hell is going on here Apollo and frankly, I don't want to know, but nothing can change the fact that she belongs to me. I won her fair and square."

"Women aren't objects, Roscoe." Apollo hissed, his expression suddenly deadly. He began walking leisurely toward where Roscoe was standing a couple feet away; the older man stiffened immediately at the movement. "They are not ornaments, or trophies, or belongings - they are of immense worth, which is something that can't be said about you. If you want to take Lilah, you'll have to pry her from my dead hands."

Roscoe shrugged. "If killing you is what I have to do, than so be it."

The two regarded each other in the steely silence, two contrasting figures in the pale moonlight.

"Good luck." Apollo said coldly.

"To you as well." Roscoe replied icily.

Apollo nodded and took a step back.

Like lightning, Roscoe whipped out his Glock; somehow the boy was faster. Before he could even raise the gun, Apollo was suddenly in from of him. His face was like stone, and he grabbed the gun from Roscoe's grasp with surprising strength.

Then the barrel was against Roscoe's forehead.

The lawn exploded with bullets as Roscoe's men shot at Apollo. He dodged them fluidly, and Roscoe jumped as a bullet grazed his ear.

"You imbeciles!" Roscoe screeched, ducking and backing away from Apollo simultaneously. "Get out here!"

They obeyed immediately. Apollo still pointed Roscoe's own gun at him, seeming oblivious to the various black clad men spilling into the clearing.

"You're dead, Roscoe." Apollo said smoothly.

He clicked the safety off, the gun glinting cooly in the night, and aimed at Roscoe's head. He didn't get to shoot however; Klavens leaped in front of Roscoe and calmly fired his rifle.

Time seemed to slow down as Roscoe watched bullet holes appear in Apollo's shirt. He waited for the blood, but none came. It was clear Klavens saw this - he lifted the gun higher and shot at the boys face.

Roscoe watched in horror as the bullets glanced off as if skating off metal. Little lines like cracks appeared in Apollo's perfectly sculpted face, but as immediately as they appeared, they began to heal over. Both Klavens and Roscoe stared in horrified amazement, and Apollo smiled back cheerfully.

However, his eyes were still lethal. "Like I said," he said softly, "good luck."

Then Roscoe's men descended on him. Roscoe watched in fascination as the group shot and alternately stabbed and punched at the boy. He was still standing, oh God, he was still standing, and he was still smiling eerily happily at Roscoe, his eyes as cold as ice and sharp as knife points. It was at that moment did Roscoe fully comprehend the danger he had thrown himself in.

Suddenly a flurry of movement emerged from the ruined house and slipped into the fight. Roscoe could see a polar bear, a tiger, a hawk and various other animals shrieking and attacking his men. The dark night was alive with the surprised, panicked shouts of the men and the furious growls of this pack of random animals. Apollo had disappeared in the midst of it.

Roscoe watched in disbelieving amazement for another moment. He then slipped unnoticed around the fight, and into the dark remains of Apollo's home.

---

I was trying my best not to be affected by Wei, but it was really hard when she was sitting in bed with me. Lei had done her best to bind her up, but it was still extremely obvious that she had suffered the brunt of the explosion. Her legs were bent in jarringly wrong directions that made me feel sick, but the lovely girl sat calmly beside me. If she was in pain, nothing on her profile betrayed it.

"Are you sure you don't want to lie down?"

"I'm fine, Lilah." Wei rolled her eyes at me. "I'm here for your protection, not the other way around."

I looked at her skeptically. "But you're hurt."

She shrugged. "Still better than leaving you alone."

I didn't reply, and we listened to the chaos outside. I winced when I heard a hawk shriek - the hawk was Myrnah's favourite shape. Wei patted my hand reassuringly.

"Apollo's father was here, wasn't he?" She asked abruptly.

I looked at her guiltily. "Does Apollo know?"

"Probably." Wei looked at me seriously. "That man positively reeks - you could smell him from a mile away."

"Really? What does he smell like?"

Wei shrugged again. "Like death."

We were quiet again.

I wondered how long the fight would take, and if we would lose anyone after. I knew we would win; the odds were not in Roscoe's favour what with vampires and shifters against him. Still, I was worried. The concept that shifters could die was still fresh in my mind, and it didn't help that Sergei himself had been pulled out of the rubble with a grotesque gash across his pale forehead. The blood had been stark against his ashy hair and ivory skin, and it only served to prove to me just how vulnerable they were.

That, and Wei's broken legs of course.

She suddenly stiffened beside me, her yellow eyes narrowed at the door. I followed her gaze in alarm, but my weak human senses didn't pick up anything suspicious.

"Wei-"

"Go into your wardrobe." She told me softly, her eyes still on the door.

"What?"

"Do it now!"

I jumped up immediately at the strain in her voice. "How about you?"

She waved a hand dismissively at me. "I'll be fine. Go, now!"

I complied.

It was a surprisingly easy fit, despite the clothes hung in there. I could stand easily in the massive confines, and I found myself silently thanking Apollo for his grandeur taste.

I closed the doors on me, and through the small crack between them I could see Wei still sitting calmly, her useless legs sprawled out and her face serious. She looked piteously small in my giant bed, and I prayed that whatever she heard or smelt was just a false alarm.

My prayers went unheard unfortunately. I had been in the wardrobe for barely a minute when my bedroom door swung silently open. I felt like screaming when I saw Roscoe standing in the doorway with a knife.

He regarded Wei with an expressionless face, and she stared steadily back.

"Where is she." Roscoe said casually.

"Who?" Wei asked innocently.

Roscoe ventured further into the room. "I'm not in the mood to play games, you little bitch. Where is she?"

"Tut tut." Wei gave him a disapproving look. I was amazed at her bravery. "Is that any way to address a lady? I'm sure your mother taught you better."

"I don't have the time for this," Roscoe snarled, coming closer, "tell me where she is or you're dead."

"If you want her so badly, why don't you find her yourself?" Wei asked coolly, her gaze still steady.

Roscoe was now at the foot of my bed. The knife he held up glinted evilly, but Wei seemed totally unaffected by its presence. She sat primly, her hands folded in her lap and her long inky hair draped over one shoulder.

"You have eyes like Francois Fleur." Roscoe suddenly said quietly.

Wei immediately stiffened, her calm facade gone. Her yellow eyes were hostile.

"Ahh, so you knew him?" Roscoe smiled cruelly. "Was it you that found him? He made a very nice scarecrow, don't you think?"

Wei let out a choked sound, and Roscoe laughed.

"I knew I recognized you. He kept a picture of you in his breast pocket, right by his heart, all the time. You were lovers, weren't you?"

My heart ached for Wei. I could see her hands shaking - it was only a minute movement, but it was still there. It all made sense now; the lovely girl had been in love with Fleur.

"How would you like to die?" Roscoe whispered. His oily voice blended with the dark night. "Smooth and simple? I can end it quickly with a knife in your heart. Or how about long and painful? I tortured him for hours when he came back. It's quite amazing what a simple knife can do."

Wei exploded, literally. One second she was sitting on the bed, the next she was in the air, rippling as she shifted. It was clear something was wrong though - the rippling was halted, and you could see flashes of what she was trying to become. From the silvery fur and dark spots, it was clear she wanted to be a leopard.

It was obvious Roscoe knew something was wrong as well. With an evil grin on his face, he reached up, grabbed a handful of the shifting girl and slammed her hard on the floor. The resounding sound coming from her was part girlish scream and part furious, animal roar.

For a moment, Wei was her true self; a petite, pretty Asian girl with horribly broken legs. It was only a moment, but it was all Roscoe needed.

He leaned down and plunged the knife into Wei's chest. I slammed a hand over my mouth to stop my scream. Blood sprayed and colored my bed, the floor and Roscoe's demented and grinning face. Wei choked a gurgling yowl out, and yet she was still trying to shift. Her hand was the paw of a leopard, and it swiped at Roscoe's face. The movement left red lines in his skin, and he roared in fury.

Ripping the knife out of her chest, Roscoe swung and stabbed her again, and again, and again. Tears were streaming down my face as I watched as the ripples stopped migrating across Wei's skin and as her blood seeped across the wooden floor. She was still, and yet Roscoe continued to stab her again and again.

Several minutes had passed before he stopped.

He stood up, and I stared at him because I couldn't bring myself to look at Wei's body. He was breathing hard, and he was absolutely covered in Wei's blood, but he barely seemed to notice. His crazy, dark eyes were wandering around the room. Roscoe had already forgotten about Wei, and he had remembered what he had come for.

My shoulders shook with silent sobs as his eyes landed on the wardrobe. Oh God, please don't let him come over. Please!

I wanted to die as he began walking toward me. His footsteps were the ticks of a clock counting down to my demise; I felt like weeping at my terrible luck. Roscoe lifted a hand to open the wardrobe door and -

A creak from behind him had Roscoe whipping around. The door was empty and Wei's lifeless body was still unmoving on the floor, but there was no denying the sound - I had heard it too.

The room was empty though, so Roscoe turned again, his face still mad and determined.

Suddenly, he was gone. I heard a loud thump as he hit the wall to my left out of my range of sight, and Apollo now stood where Roscoe had been. I stared in awe through the crack; his shirt was riddled with bullet holes and tears but my Apollo was unscathed. There was blood on the left side of his face, but it was clearly not his. His face looked furious and deadly as he stared Roscoe down.

"Am I dead yet, you fool?" Apollo snarled. I almost swooned at the sound of his voice. It was still beautiful in its rage, and it made things real - I was safe now that he was here.

Roscoe let out an animal scream and leaped at Apollo. I saw his blur of movement and the flash of his bloodstained knife, but Apollo was faster. His arm whipped like lightning and Roscoe was across the room again, his head hitting the floor with a sick crunch. To my amazement, he got up again; the man's face was twisted in fury and madness.

"She's mine!" He screamed, advancing on Apollo. "No one else can have her! Mine, mine, mine!"

He ran at Apollo again, and Apollo calmly punched him in the gut. Roscoe'a arms flailed, and the knife glided over Apollo's arm without leaving a mark. Apollo grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into one of the bedposts. Roscoe clawed and scraped at his handhold, but Apollo's grip never loosened.

"Don't make me kill you, Ted." Apollo said quietly.

Roscoe responded by spitting in his face.

I watched Apollo sigh and wipe the substance off his face disdainfully. Roscoe grinned evilly at him.

"Roscoe." Apollo's voice was gentle. "Someone should have done something about you a long time ago."

Then with one swift flick of his wrist, Apollo snapped Ted Roscoe's neck. The sound seemed to echo through the room, and it was shortly followed with the clatter of Roscoe's knife as it fell from his hand. Apollo let go of Roscoe's throat, and the dead man dropped to the floor with a thud.

It was quiet for what felt like centuries. It was still dark, but the darkness had taken a lighter quality as the early morning began to dawn. Apollo turned quietly and swiftly, and he made his way to the wardrobe.

When he pulled the doors open, his face was soft and his eyes somber and concerned.

"Lilah?"

I threw myself into his arms, sobbing freely now. His strong arms wrapped around me and gently rocked me, making soothing sounds as he did.

"It's alright." His breath caressed the skin of my throat. "I'm here now, love. I'm here."

And it was that simple statement that began to make things right again in my life.

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