Seeker: Demon Killers [Fantasy/Action | Complete]

Chapter 28: Food Gone Stale

"...Damn convenient, don't you think?"

The irritated voice grated against Tora's fuzzy head. She sat up, rubbing her temple and her eyes adjusting to the darkness.

"I think nothing."

"Don't give me that crap."

Tora could imagine the scowl on the lieutenant's face. She stretched her hand upwards into the darkness. Beneath her callused hands, she could almost feel something else. Something silky and smooth, warm and gentle, long-fingered...

Her hands grasped only air.

"Look at you. Look at me. I've seen Carlos's cooking look better."

From somewhere a little further away, there came an indignant "Hey!"

"And her? Not a scratch. Lying on a pool of glass, human blood, and god knows what else. Not. A. Scratch." Each word was punctuated with a thump of fist on wood. "And that freak of nature's made it clear what he wants."

A light rimmed her door. It seemed the conversation was going on just at the bottom of the stairs. She sucked in a breath. The air was stale. She should probably aerate her room soon.

"Come on, Markl. You've led us through worse fights than this. Is it because you think she's one of us that you've been so bloody passive about it?"

Swinging her legs out of bed and then leaping out, Tora stretched her body, feeling her joints pop. She slapped her hair haphazardly into a ponytail and swung the door open with a bang. Blinking in the bright light, she stepped out onto the landing.

"Un-be-freaking-lievable."

Tora paused at the scathing tone, looking down the steps, bemused.

"What?" It came out more defensive than she'd intended. Markl shot her a warning look – he looked exhausted, with dark circles under his brown eyes and stubble covering his chin and neck. Ross held her body at an awkward angle, as if she'd sustained a back injury, and a deep claw mark covered the side of her neck, disappearing into the 'V' of her t-shirt. Her red hair was tied tightly back, revealing severe bruising along her hairline – no doubt where she'd collided with a wall during the fight.

"What?" Ross mocked, one hand on her hip, green eyes narrowing at Tora. Tora's hand tightened on the wooden handrail.

"Ross," Markl snapped. Both the girls shot surprised looks at him. "There's been peculiar events and injuries—" Ross let out a derisive snort. "—as it is. I don't want any more conflict tonight."

"You can't deny our right to know." Ross narrowed her eyes at him at that. "There are questions for you, too."

Tora was about to butt in but Markl's face closed up with a look she'd never seen before. She bit down her retort.

"We will sort it out, but not with that attitude, and not tonight."

With the glower he got in return, Tora knew it was only a matter of time before Ross pounced again. Markl left, leaving a heavy silence.

To Tora's astonishment, Ross followed him, throwing her a dirty look. Tora ended up standing alone at the top of the stairs, wondering what had gone down during her blackout.

"Something's changed."

Tora turned at the sound of Damien's voice. His head poked out of his door at the end of the corridor, two doors down from hers. One of his eyes was swollen with a black bruise blossoming above the socket. His right sleeve was rolled up, exposing bandages that covered his arm from wrist to beyond the elbow. From the similarly awkward way he held the limb, she would guess he harboured more than just a gash.