A spring shower burst upon the expectant brownstones of the crowded city slums, sending torrents of rain that matched the rapid tempo of horses' hooves. The occasional blade of lightning would snake across the deep azure of the early evening, rending the night sky and flooding the dark street with a blinding, white light. A lone car passed over the asphalt in its trek to who knew what godforsaken destination, sending a wall of water splashing against a simple, two story, brick building. Up a small flight of stairs and past the wooden door protecting the occupants from the weather, a long hallway stretched until it reached a square pane of glass set into another door.
Beyond the door, a small desk rested on an immaculate, wood-paneled floor and a brassy red head sat clanking away at her antique, Koehler typewriter. She peered closely at what she had typed, her face wrinkling as it came closer to the paper. Peering around, she retrieved a small pair of glasses from her desk and perched them on the end of her hawk-like nose. As she poured over the fresh ink, a soft cough caught her attention and she quickly removed the offending spectacles, but not before glancing at the short, blonde visitor. Slipping the glasses back into the drawer, she smiled at the now blurry image.
"Yes?"
"Is your employer in?"
"Yes. One moment please." She rose quickly, hitting her shin against the side of the desk. Biting back a groan, she reached for the doorknob seconds before running into the door. "Sam, you have a client."
The visitor didn't hear a reply from the other side of the door, but stepped through anyway when the secretary stepped aside. The young woman didn't hear the door close as her attention was drawn toward the figure in front of the huge, bay window. Pearly wisps of smoke curled around fingers held in thought and a large black hat secured a massive swathe of dark brown hair swept beneath its imposing brim.
A brilliant flash of light from outside the window momentarily illuminated the striking profile bringing into view a high forehead and a regal nose. The end of a cigarette glowed and rings of smoke fell back against the woman's face as she turned. "May I help you?" - she asked in a low voice which resonated in a husky, yet sultry growl.
Sam's breath caught in her throat as her eyes traveled over the petite frame swathed in royal blue that hugged slender curves. A long, alabaster neck was revealed as the hair from the sides of her head were secured beneath a white hat trimmed with a bit of netting that shadowed her eyes. The blonde recovered first and spoke in a sharp voice that tinkled like pure, crystalline chimes swaying in a soft summer breeze. "I need your help."
The brunette took a moment and walked toward her desk. A flash of muscular leg winked at the blonde as it settled over its companion. "What kind of help?" She indicated a chair opposite of her with an outstretched hand and the blonde sat, repaying the earlier compliment.
"I need protection. I think someone is trying to kill me." A pause. "It started a few weeks ago and, at first, I thought I was just being paranoid." She moved slightly, trying to regain a sense of control in the suddenly uncomfortable chair. "Imagining footsteps in the distance as I walked home, things being in different places than I remembered." The blonde's eyes assumed a look of distance and her voice trailed at the last word instead of her normal means of biting it off in a crisp, sharp angle often used to spear the opposition's defenses.
The blonde paused, steadying her breathing. Sam took the opportunity to think on what the blonde had said. She knew it wasn't safe for a defenseless woman to travel in the city, unescorted at night. When she, herself, was younger, the town was quiet and everyone knew everyone else. Crime was almost nonexistent as the peaceful community hosted safe streets and honest police men. People, back then, watched out for each other and the most dangerous occurrences were local boys playing tricks on each other.
Then, as the town expanded and business men settled into the quiet neighborhood, things started changing. Large, dirty sky scrapers sprang up, forming prophetic shadows over the town. The majority of the police officers adopted an "If I don't see it, it didn't happen," mentality and all that was necessary tp prove them suddenly blind to all injustice were a few green backs pressed into greedy hands.
Those people that didn't leave removed themselves from each other and the city grew quickly into the disgraceful, dirty place that stood today. She couldn't even go outside to pick up the paper without checking for someone with a weapon close by. The atmosphere radiated paranoia and hopelessness in many and an ever watchful eye in all. Imaginations tended to soar in the dank soup of mortality that permeated the area and, though she found it a constant source of irritation, it brought steady work for those like herself. It was nice work if you could get it. Like the Billie Holiday song said, she reflected, "So get it if you can." Sam got plenty. There were a few souls, she included, that refused to give into the fear and fought against an ever increasing wave of depravity.
"A couple of days ago, I received this."
She handed the taller woman an envelope without a return address. Sam slid long fingers into the opening and brought out the frail sheet of dirty paper. At first, scanning the page revealed nothing out of the ordinary. The words were dark and simple, meant to instill fear in the reader. A quick glance at the woman proved that it had had its intended effect. Her flawless make-up could not hide the dark circles under her eyes, nor could be her beauty mask slightly blood shot eyes and an exceptionally pale neck. She could only guess that the poor woman hadn't slept since she received the letter. Sam reread the letter and noticed writing in what appeared to be a different hand, running along the bottom of the page. "We won't stop till we have what we want."
"Did you see this part?"
"Which part?"
The brunette laid the paper flat on her desk and used her hand to motion the woman closer. As the blonde neared, Sam caught a whiff of cologne. Hmm, she thought, Chanel No. 5, not bad. She fixed her eyes on the paper and forced herself to concentrate on the scrawled writing. The blonde unconsciously moved closer to the brunette as she read the newly discovered text. "What do they mean?"
"That's what I was hoping you could tell me."
"I don't know." The blonde's voice was very low and Sam sensed the words more than she heard them. "I don't even know who sent this."
Emerald green met azure blue, causing Sam to feel a strong pull toward the woman. The young woman's need sparked something inside of her that was so dormant, it bordered on the point of alien. Compassion. "I'll take your case 'cause I don't think you can handle this on your own."
The blonde stood straight and her voice rang cold. "I can take care of myself." She paused, suddenly absorbed by anger at the brunette's audacity to pity her. "I don't even know why I came here, I knew it would be a mistake." She picked up her satchel and headed toward the door. She quickly covered her misstep as the now familiar voice spoke in a deeper, more dangerous tone.
Sam felt a wave of unease as the blonde made her way to leave. She didn't know what would come of it, but she knew she couldn't let her walk out of that door. "I know why. Because you didn't want to miss another night's sleep over a stranger's words."
The hand stilled on the handle as the truth of the words hit her full force. How could she have known? Turning around and lowering her head to fight off tears, she fought for control. When her earlier facade was securely in place, she walked toward the desk. Leaning over she caught the brunette's hand in a grip only weaker than the link between their eyes.
Sam felt herself drawn into the watery depths of sea-green eyes and was rendered speechless as the fear and sadness in those orbs stole the breath from her body.
Sam parked in front of the house and cautiously stepped out of the car. She walked over to the passenger's side and watched the street and surrounding area as the blonde left the vehicle. Torn between walking in front of her or covering her rear, Sam decided to keep her to the side. Their hands slipped together in an unconscious movement, and Sam felt an odd sense of ease and familiarity as the smaller fingers wrapped themselves tightly around hers. She reminded herself that the reason she didn't change the comfortable joining was to make sure the blonde woman was always where she could keep track of her, even if she was looking in the opposite direction. Even though the logic of her reasoning seemed, to her, flawless, she felt a tingling flicker of warmth and didn't stop the small smile that crept across her lips.
They continued their slow progress toward the house. No light could be seen through the large windows, and the shadows playing over the exquisitely carved pieces of wood that made up the base of the roof, seemed to dance with a dark life of their own. A gentle breeze warmed Sam's skin where the eerie quiet had frozen flesh. Sam's mind was affected by her overactive nerves and, to her, the chill brushing against her seemed as soft as a ghost's breath. She turned her head into the wind and was rewarded with a light musk scent fanned her way by flowing hair.
Everything seemed too normal as they stepped onto the porch; it was too peaceful. Her body was on the edge of fear and she knew if her companion so much as sneezed, her echoing screams would wake the entire neighborhood. The found the front door open a few inches and Sam drew her pistol, causing the blonde's eyes to widen. Progressing slowly, they both cringed as the door creaked as their minute touches brought it open completely. Blue eyes quickly adjusted to the dark and noticed the disarray of the living room. Whoever had been here was obviously looking for something. Sam's instincts kicked in and she pulled the smaller woman closer as her mind screamed outrage at the possibility of her being here earlier, alone. She knew the other woman couldn't stay here; she had known it was a possibility even before she saw the chaos in front of her. Once a few belongings were packed, they would leave.
The blonde took control and led the taller woman through the unfamiliar house. They dared not switch on a light as they didn't know who might be watching. The younger woman was distracted by the fact that the house she had grew up in, that she felt so safe in, had been violated by someone she didn't know. Her thoughts strayed and only Sam's heightened sense of awareness kept them from accumulating more than a few bruises.
Sam caught mere glances at what seemed, to her, to be pompous overstuffed rooms, probably made by men of the same stuff and sold to pompous, overstuffed patrons. Whoever lived in the house obviously had many hobbies and the collected pieces of art and furniture reflected that eclectic quality. The floor was covered in an oriental rug, the furniture ranged from Louis XIV chairs to more modern pieces, and artwork littered about from all sorts of eras. Most of the pieces were Buddhist images - from small busts of the former religious leader, to jewelry too ornate to be worn with any modesty. In combination with these ancient forms, many variations of Christian pieces also set up residence in the large, main room. Sam found it hard to rectify such vast differences in one person. She glanced at the woman and suddenly found it less difficult. She was engrossed in thought when two glowing eyes caught her and she tightened her grip painfully on the woman's hand. She was about to scream when her companion realized what happened and explained that it was a stuffed animal of some kind. The brunette didn't find it very funny as her heart beat raced and she struggled to calm her breathing. She never did understand the fascination with taking a dead animal, stuffing it, and displaying it in some macabre fashion as a way to promote the idea of oneself as an expert hunter.
When they reached her bedroom, Sam sent her on ahead while she kept watch from outside the creme colored door. She moved unseeing through the hallway, her mind distracted by thoughts of her companion in her bedroom. She didn't understand why she had such a strong attraction to the blonde woman. She usually was very distant with her lovers, never getting to know them. Not that she saw the stand offish woman as a possible lover, but that didn't keep her mind off erotic thoughts and sensations. In fact, her mind continued to hound her with visions of deep green eyes filled with passion, creamy skin yearning for a touch and soft moans, solicited from rich, red lips. Wow, when did I get so graphic. She ran her hand through her hair and started to walk back down the hall toward the room where she envisioned a golden haired angel sleeping.
She was a few feet from the door when she heard muffled noises. Her gun found its usual place in her hand and she kicked the door down, hoping the element of surprise would help her with whatever awaited her inside. Instead, she received a surprise as she searched the room for the woman. She reprimanded herself for her lack of attention when she saw the motionless body laying mere inches before her. But, the bigger surprise came when she found the blonde fighting with a second attacker. Hidden slits in the dress gave room for strong legs to kick at the man. Sam could only stare as she watched the smaller woman strike at his chest with a resounding kick. The man's hands swung wildly in an attempt to correct his balance, causing the younger woman to have to duck and then parry the unexpected attack. Her hand whipped sideways across his temple and he stumbled slightly before he regained his footing and blocked a well-aimed punch for his stomach.
The brunette hurried, unnoticed, behind the man and knocked him out with the butt of her gun. Because he fell so quickly, the blonde almost kicked Sam before she caught her foot, causing them to stand as dancer's frozen. Sam stood straight, grasping the delicate foot at the height of her head. The blonde's torso was perpendicular to her legs and she smiled slightly.
"As much as I appreciate the exercise, you think you could let go?" Sam stared at the extremity for a confused second before she released it. "I told you I could take care of myself."
"Than why did you want my protection?"
The blonde came very close and Sam could feel deep, heated breaths against her skin. The woman opened her mouth and, for an instant, Sam very much thought she might kiss her. The blonde's soft tone echoed over the silence of two heart beats. "I can't fight an enemy I can't see."
The car's engine hummed noisily against the stark quiet of the cab. Sam's thoughts had been racing since they left, leaving a coherent thought no chance of being noticed. She forced herself to take deep breaths and began to calm the maelstrom in her head. They were halfway to the building where she worked and, strangely more important, had first met her passenger. She was relieved that the way was familiar for her thoughts, though more organized, were still absorbed by the conundrum sitting beside her.
When the woman first entered her office, she was caught off guard by the innocent beauty she possessed. From the moment Sam first gazed into those emerald eyes, she was overcome with feelings of protectiveness and the annoying need to watch over the stranger. Now that the woman's presence wasn't that of a stranger, though Sam was not ready to determine exactly what it was, that feeling had only intensified. Everything about her suggested a fragile flower, delicate in beauty and unable to defend herself. Not only had her own personal enigma proven that assumption false, she had protected Sam. She could have very well saved her life. "Where did you learn that?"
"An old friend."
"You saved my life and I don't even know your name."
The blonde looked up and smiled. "Ericka Dumont."
"Samantha Kaine."
"Sam?"
The brunette cracked a smile, "That's what most people call me."
Ericka turned back toward the window and continued her absorption in the scenes passing by. Sam thought she seemed a million miles away and decided to concentrate on the road as silence one again reined. The car sliced through a puddle and a few, lingering rain drops dripped onto the roof in a slow, sweet melody.