BLOOD AND BONE | rewritten

1

The girl named Delphinium dared another glance backward-and saw the strange man still followed. He was far back enough to be inconspicuous to innocent eyes, but tailing her nonetheless.

A string of frenzied curses flew through her mind as she tilted her face to the stormy sky. She tried to forget the sticky feeling on her hands hidden inside her sleeves. She did not have to glance at them to know they were still stained red.

It had all unfolded so quickly: the large man's approach, his low voice, the way his eyes darted from side to side. He was only meant to sell her illegal weaponry, but as he held his palms to her, feigning comfort, she was cornered. With the amount of people who knew of Delphinium and wanted her gone, it was not a risk she could take.

Contrary to her reason for the transaction, Delphinium needed no weapon to kill him. It had gotten messy toward the end, as she had none of her old cool determination and all of her new terror. But it was fast. The body had been less easy to dump, as this was the wealthiest area of Laguna. Its inhabitants' riches held off the stink of death that was so rampant in the dark corners of larger metropolitans. But desperation aided her already-honed skill. No one would ever uncover her mistake.

When she caught sight of the second man tailing her as she escaped down the sidewalk, her spiking terror returned. Then dismissal. He was just the same as any normal pedestrian. Not everyone is out to get you.

Yet no normal pedestrian followed a young woman for seven blocks straight. No, he knew who she was and he wanted what she could offer. He would take it for himself.

Delphinium may have concluded the whole thing was self-conceived if not for the real sounds of his footfalls behind her, barely audible. It was not a spectral figure from her imagination this time.

Fingernails cutting into bloodied palms, she calculated the distance to refuge. About three more blocks to go.

Ordinarily, leaving the semi-safety of the house was a rare occurrence. But today, her grandmother was abroad on a business endeavor, so Delphinium would take the opportunity to build her stockpile. Her grandmother did not allow weapons, but Delphinium felt sick with vulnerability without them.

The weapons dealer was dead before Delphinium could be supplied, and she was too fearful to squander time stealing from his locked vehicle after hiding the body. She was empty handed. Well, aside from a tiny, rusted switchblade hidden inside the lining of her boot where her grandmother would never think to look. It was not that she wanted to rebel against her grandmother's rules. But without backup, her mind would tear her apart before any enemy could. No amount of reassurance could cure her.

The weapons dealer's death had been the same. She had no wish to end his life, but it was like smashing a spider that might be venomous. Killing created regret, but mercy created paranoia.