Read Online The Bonded by John Falin - Free Book Online Page B

sideways does work. The pressure is sharp and intense, and I hear a bone crack in capitulation, but the bullet doesn’t penetrate my skin. With preternatural speed, I catch the bullet as it falls and deliberately raise my closed hand toward the shooter. In stunned calmness, he watches me leisurely reveal the hot bullet smoking in my unfurled hand. As if that wasn’t enough to frighten him, my chest moves, snapping and cracking in a slow and frustrating journey to heal itself. The pain is a distant scream.
    Playtime is now officially over. I snag his 9mm with such swift stealth that he doesn’t realize it is gone until I throw it against the brick wall. The velocity plus impact bends the snubbed-nose barrel, rendering it useless. The magazine pops out and bullets ping and pang as they bounce on the ground. It is in this moment he knows—they all do. My focus is on him; his blood is singing a personal melody to me about seduction and pleasure. It is hypnotic as the others fade into nothing. All that remains, all that matters, is that I give into his blood’s temptation. I pounce on him before I can think. My teeth sink deep, smacking the unguarded flow of blood. It is sloppy and barbaric, but I couldn’t stop anymore than one could stop… Percy. I pull away and let his lifeless body drop on the pinkish snow, wincing as his head thumps against the concrete.
    I frantically gauge the situation and seem to have my faculties back in working order. I hear distant screaming from both remaining guys as they near the corner of the alleyway. Their raised voices bounce off walls and magnify due to the eerie silence. Porch lights turn on like dominos falling in sequence, signaling the resurrection of the slumbering neighborhood. I decide to prioritize and narrow my response down to: kill them before all hell breaks loose . I gather my strength and I’m grateful for the control and concentration I command. Nutrients have benefits! I break into a run and arrive with a thought to find Percy with her hand around one of the asshole’s throats. She slings him twenty-five feet in the air and he limply hits the ground, sliding another ten, unconscious from the fall with what I’m sure is mild head trauma. With no hesitation she advances on the other thug and her left hand cups the back of his head and she slams his face into the nearest brick wall. The explosion of dust and bone creates a small puff of smoke. I cringe at the brutality. She lets go and his face peels away, leaving fragments of teeth and remnants of flesh embedded in the mortar. Blood is everywhere and I can’t even recognize him… What am I becoming? I find her gaze and see the soft side of remorse and the solidity of committed resolve.
    She peers at me and says, “I’ll handle the other one. Then we must leave.” I didn’t have time to register what was said before she is on him, straddling his back while she takes no pleasure in the kill. I have already made my way around the corner when anxious neighbors begin shouting for others to call 9-1-1. But I hold in my panic, knowing that in the city, people don’t trust the police. They really are the last resort. I turn the corner, walking with cautious control to avoid attention and silently laugh at the absurdity of it all—white hair, wearing a blood-stained white suit, and taking a stroll through Baltimore’s crime-ridden neighborhoods after midnight…
    Percy sneaks up from behind, unnoticed. Man, she’s good. She urgently states, “Now’s not the time to contemplate or discuss what happened. I’ve eliminated any evidence that would trigger questions concerning what we are, but there are still dead bodies lying around. We need to leave before the community starts a witch hunt.” And with that, we pick up the pace and return to the rooftops for a hurried trek back to the Inner Harbor.
    The snow has grown thicker with the night, falling in chunks rather than the cute snowflakes that whimsically linger in the