2
Scarlett yawned as she rolled out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Bradan, the brownie who shared her cottage, had already put on the tea kettle.
“Mmm,” she sighed as she took the first sweet, scalding sip.
Even though brownies tended to stay out of sight and shunned compliments, Scarlett knew that Bradan secretly enjoyed it when she acknowledged his efforts.
Her lips twitched as she replaced the lid that he’d left off the honey jar. Anyone who didn’t live with a brownie might think it was carelessness. But it was really a silent message that she needed to stop by the local apiary for a refill.
As a rule, Brownies refused to take payment for their housework. But they loved honey and became miffed if the owner of their house allowed the supply to dwindle.
She cradled her steaming mug in her hands and carried it to the open back door. Leaning against the frame, she surveyed her wildflower garden.
The air smelled of fresh rain, loamy soil, and green, growing things. The blue-eyed-grass and golden-samphire were blooming, a sea of purple and yellow creating a tranquil setting for her first workout of the day.
She rolled her neck and shoulders to loosen the muscles, then drained her cup and jogged through the misty morning drizzle until she was beneath the cover of her workout area. She stretched and gave her rack of weapons a cursory glance before opting to practice her hand fighting. She obviously needed it since she’d almost allowed a human to best her last night.
Agent Derrington’s image flashed through her mind. Skin as smooth and rich as caramel softened the rugged planes of his face. Deep mahogany eyes pierced her with their intelligence. But there had been something gentle about them as well. Something that calmed her and stirred her pulse at the same time.
She shook off the thought and dropped into a stance, beginning a set of alternating punches and kicks and trying to lose herself in the rhythm. She’d been training every day since she was seventeen years old. It gave her confidence and strength knowing that she could fight her way out of any situation.
Her people, the sidhe, were immortal warriors who traditionally began sword practice at age eighteen. But she’d started a year early. Pat had been training for the Seelie Police Academy, and she’d begged him to teach her the sword, as well as the other martial arts styles he was learning.
All of the hours they’d spent training together had set the village rumors about them flying. But they’d never been romantically interested in one another. It was just that being with him, and learning how to defend herself, had been the only things that made her feel safe after the rape.
She fumbled a kick and nearly lost her footing.
She cursed under her breath, hating her mistake, and hating even more the memories that came to the surface whenever she spent time in the human realm.
They were like poison lurking in the darkest corners of her psyche. Sometimes she flushed them out of her system for a while, but they always came seeping back to torment her.
The thought of the rape itself made her want to squeeze her thighs together and never let anyone touch her between them again. But just as bad was the humiliation. The self recrimination over putting herself in a situation where it could happen in the first place. And the helpless shame that she hadn’t fought harder and gotten away from the men before they could debase her like that.
She was an immortal warrior, for goddess’ sake. If she couldn’t fight them off, she should have at least blinked away from them. But she’d frozen. How stupid was that? She was a magical being, and she’d let a couple of disgusting humans rape her.
Scarlett felt a sharp pain in her finger and looked down to see that she’d picked at her cuticle until it was raw and bleeding. She sighed and walked over to the shelf where she kept her healing dust.
It was always like this. As if once the memory resurfaced, her mind wouldn’t let it go until it played through every miserable angle of the experience, leaving her a quivering pile of nerves in its wake.
It was her day off from teaching sword techniques, but she knew better than to sit at home and stew in her memories. She had to find something to keep her busy.
Preferably something that would tire her out enough to ward off the inevitable insomnia, and the reliving of her torment behind closed eyelids that refused to conjure sleep. It was nights like those that had led to her escaping into the oblivion of Morpheus far more often than she knew she should.
She showered, pulled on clean workout clothes, and headed to the center of her village to find a sparring partner.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
“What up, G-man?” Liza’s cheerful voice chirped through the cell phone.
“How’s my favorite crime analyst this morning?” Grey asked.
“Jealous,” she pouted. “How’s F.L.? You bang any surfer chicks yet?”
Grey chuckled. What did he care about surfer chicks? The newest star of his fantasies was a tough strawberry blonde with sea-green eyes and a soft Irish brogue.
“You know I only have eyes for you, Lizzie,” he teased.
Liza snorted. “Right. I’ve heard that before…usually around the time a guy decides to cheat on me and dump me.”
“You are far too young to be that jaded,” Grey replied with a shake of his head.
“Pfft,” she scoffed. “I’m an old soul. It’s the only thing that gets me through in this line of work. Besides, you know I never let them get away with it. The last guy ended up with his bank account flagged for fraud and his credit cards cancelled.”
“I did not just hear that, Liza.”
She sniggered. “Don’t worry G-man. My hacks are tasty and untraceable. You couldn’t prove it even if you tried.”
Grey pushed air through his teeth to make a static sound. “Sorry, I didn’t catch any of that. I think we have a bad connection.”
“Fine,” Liza relented with a laugh. “You can stop now, Captain America. I won’t say anything else to incriminate myself.”
“Oh, there you are,” Grey said with feigned relief. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“Hysterical,” Liza replied drily.
“I try,” Grey said with a grin. “So, what do you have for me today?”
“It’s not good,” Liza answered, her tone turning somber. “We have another vic. And this time she’s right here in Virginia. Woodbridge, to be exact.”
“Damn it to hell,” Grey cursed. “Are you sure it’s him?”
“She lived alone and her house was locked up tight. Same lack of evidence at the scene and on the body. And same weird, herby smell,” she replied quietly.
“Can you call the office and ask them to book me a flight back this morning?” he said in a tight voice.
