Stalker

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I wake up in the morning, and momentarily forget why I'm wearing only a bra and underwear.

Then, it all comes back to me in a smothering wave, and I groan, putting my head in my hands.

Damn it. I let my emotions get the best of me. Again. What the hell?, I think to myself.

Groaning, I get out of bed, trying not to wake Zak. After dressing in a pair of leggings and a tank top, I make my way downstairs.

As I'm getting ice for my glass of water, I glance towards the windows leading towards the garden out back.

And there, standing in the darkness of predawn, is a shadow.

The shadow of a man. Clearly staring at me.

I stare at the man, waiting for him to make a move. But his move is something I never imagined would happen.

I see the glint of silver, and duck as quickly as I can as the sound of shattered glass echoes around the house.

I hear Zak yell something from upstairs, but my eyes are on the shadow, who is now inside the house, and is pointing the gun at my head.

A growl ripples out of my throat, and I cast my vision around, looking for a demon I can use. None show, which infuriates me.

They appear when I don't want them, then aren't even around when I need them, I think savagely, instinctively ducking as another gunshot rebounds through the house, burying itself in the fridge.

Zak's voice yells down from upstairs, but I resist the urge to yell back. That would only give the shooter another target.

Instead, I peer over the counter again, and almost duck again at the sight of the shadow on the other side of the counter.

The figure is massive, even bigger than Zak. I can hear the heavy breathing coming from their lungs, can see the trembling of their chest, can feel their fear and anger in the air.

I stand slowly, hands down at my sides. I keep my eyes on the man, not letting Zak's yelling distract me.

"If you've come to kill me, good luck. Many have already tried. Even I couldn't kill myself. So, you might as well leave and never come back," I say, almost flinching at the slight tremble to my words.

The figure is silent, save for his breathing.

"So I'm talking to a shadow. That's nice. Have you come just to watch me like a stalker or to kill me like an assassin? Cause I'm getting really bored of this guessing game. And I'm not even fully awake yet."

My later, awake mind would have told me that snarking off to a man with a gun probably wasn't a good idea. But my now, tired mind didn't give a fuck. It was tired, and just wanted to go back to bed.

The man turns his head toward where Zak is noisily descending the stairs.

His glasses are lopsided on his face, but his skin radiates angry heat like a bonfire. When he sees the man standing before me, the silver pistol in his hand, his eyes narrow and his mouth forms into a snarl.

"Get away from her. Now. And get out of my house," Zak says, his voice low. I find that people who talk low and soft when they're beyond pissed are the most dangerous kind of people in the world.

Justin, Chase, and Forest all did that. Luke did too.

The man seems to have found this out as well, as he quickly turns around and bolts out the window.

Zak stares after him, then turns to me. His lips pull into a frown, and a crease appears between his eyebrows.

I reach up and fix his glasses for him, since they're annoying me and I don't think he'll fix them himself. Not until after he worries over me, at least.

"Are you okay? Did he shoot you? Are you hurt?" Zak asks as he runs his hands up and down my ribs. Sparks erupt from the contact, but I ignore them.

"No, Zak. None of the bullets hit me. He used one to shoot the glass out, then another to shoot at the fridge. It was just to scare, I think."

Zak seems to take my words into account, but still insists on checking my body for injuries. I let him, since it seems to calm him. And, it allows me time to think about the shooter.

But all of my questions lead to only more questions. I circle the issue in my mind relentlessly for the rest of the day, but come up with nothing by the time the sun sets.

Zak had called some repair guys to repair our window, which they did quickly and efficiently.

Gracie and Redwood wouldn't leave our sides for the rest of the day. No matter where we went, even to the bathroom, they would always follow.

That night, as I fall asleep, I think about why someone would want to kill me. Numerous obvious reasons come to mind, but my question wouldn't be answered by anyone living.

No, it would be answered by a demon during our next investigation.

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