Invincible (A Centennial City Novel) - By Fionn Jameson Page 0,85

would already be dead.”

He made a small sound in the back of his throat and tactfully turned to look up at the swirling snow that looked more like small feathers from a dove.

Minutes passed. Much of it with me silent, a fist pressed to my lips. After that speech about pain passing, it just didn’t seem right to let go.

That and I hadn’t done so in ten years, and I wasn’t sure if I remembered how.

“Why was I not told?”

“No one knew where you’d gone,” he said softly. “You weren’t at home. Adrian knew you were with the mark who was supposed to be dead two weeks ago. That was all. Sooner or later, I figured you’d come back.”

Always the practical one. “I called a couple of days ago. Someone told me Chang was not available. Why didn’t they tell me about Adrian?”

His lips thinned. “Another bit of a bad news, really. With Chang down, I guessed he kind of get shunted off to the side.”

I sniffed. My nose was running. “Sounds like the Elders.”

“He’s in a coma.”

I never felt anything for Elder Chang, except for a bit of mild affection for it was obvious that he cared about my well being, although it was never certain as to whether he cared about me as a person or as a tool to be used against the monsters of the darkness. But in the end, I supposed it never really mattered. “What are his chances of survival?”

“Who knows.”

“Any idea on who it might have been?”

Another casual shrug. “They also stabbed him in the chest with a combat knife. Ironically, or maybe not, it was the falling that almost killed him. He hit his head on the edge of his table. Guess the bastard’s harder to kill than anyone ever realized.”

I thought he smiled although it was hard to see through my vision gone uncontrollably blurry. “He’s an Elder. It’ll be a cold day in Hell before one of them dies that easily.”

My cuffs were starting to turn into a mess. “Trent, do you have a tissue?”

“I have something better,” he said and then opened his arms. “Come here. You’ll feel better.”

I shook my head fervently. “No. I don’t think so. I’ve come this far. I’ve made it this long without losing control. I can do better.”

Arms still open, he gave me a pained look. At least, I thought so. I was rather distracted trying to keep the sounds from leaving my mouth, trying to keep from drowning in the tears soaking into my coat. “You going to just leave me like this? Man, Ran, I knew you were cold, but I didn’t know it was this bad!”

I inched towards him and my lips wobbled. “You even smell like him.”

He nodded. “Of course I do. That son of a bitch always stole my cologne. Said he was sick of smelling like you. “

And despite everything, a laugh felt my lips. “You’re a lying bastard.”

He sighed deeply. “Oh, all right, then. I know which cologne he uses and I thought you might either get comfort from it or run screaming. Since you’re still here, I guess you like it. Now, how about that hug?”

I looked at him and then let myself fall into that warm comfort, that warm circle.

17

Someone was waiting for me.

Although, at this point, I supposed I should have expected such...surprises.

A small part of me wondered if I would still be alive tomorrow.

Now that would truly be a surprise...considering who it was.

Eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator glasses, hair disguised underneath a rather filthy baseball cap, there was still no hiding the fact that my target stood in front of me, leaning against an expensive looking silver car, arms crossed over his chest.

He looked comfortably warm in a flannel jacket and dark blue jeans tucked into a pair of black cowboy boots.

A rather incongruous image, considering the last time I saw him, he looked like the classic example of a Victorian printer, especially with his round rimmed glasses and checked vest.

The doors swung shut behind me ponderously slow, but the fact of the matter was, here stood the Order's most outstanding enemy, and he was alone. Or looked it, in any case.

I could kill him right now.

Or attempt to.

Either way, something would end. Either my life or his.

He smiled.

The breath caught in my throat. "Why are you here?"

He uncrossed his arms, that same, small smile on his generously plump lips. "Surely you didn't think we wouldn't keep, what's the word,