The Lie Spinners (The Deception Dance) (3 page)

Madeline
knows what’s at stake. This situation, Madeline showing up,
frantic, to pull me out of hiding, it means something very serious is
going on.

And,
Albert never said anything.

If
something happened to Stephen, Albert, his brother, would be the
first to know.

A
sudden movement yanks me out of my thoughts. In the trees, on the
other side of the small marsh a man points a gun at me. Crappolla!
Paintball!

I
jump out of the way just as the man shoots and the stump behind me
splatters with paint. I land, palms hitting the mud as it splashes
into my face. Crawling quickly into the hollow, I search the small
dark alcove for any way to climb to the top of the stump. The crony
is probably running across the mud to where he might have trapped me.

But
I find what I’m looking for, a hole and a small ledge under it
and I quickly hoist myself up and squeeze through the hole. The top
of the stump is uneven, with some flatter parts but mostly consisting
of sharp wood spears pointing up. Some moss and leaves cover the top
making an area safe to lie across. I crawl across the top, to peek
over the edge.

And
directly below me stands stinky shoes guy. Ahh, why him? Why him? I
have the worst freaking luck on the planet. He looks into the hole,
and then makes a full circle around the stump. I
know
next he’ll look on top.

I
make my move, I jump up and directly onto stinky shoes guy.

I’ve
been taking self-defense lessons and jujitsu for a year, but I’m
not that good.
Maybe
Madame Luck heard me, because the way I hit stinky shoes guy is a
thing of beauty. He turns away just as I leap, and I somehow manage
to literally get the drop on him, I land on his back, and he goes
flying forward straight into the marsh. My foot even connects with
his hand, making him drop his gun, which I’m pretty sure
trained soldiers almost never do.

Since
I land on top of his back I easily jump off, grab the paintball gun,
and before he even separates himself from the mud, I shoot him in the
back. Yellow paint sprays across him, and onto the mud.

“
Uh
huh, take that,” I say, shooting him again as he rolls over.
The shots I aim at his front kind of just embed in the thick layer of
mud on his front.

He
shakes his face, sending mud everywhere. “Give me back my gun,”
He says, while staring up at me.

“
What
was that? Did you actually say something?” I ask, feigning,
“Did you actually speak words, to me?” I shoot him with
the last pellet in the leg.

Bitter?
Me?

“
Give
me back the gun,” he sounds bored and annoyed.

“
You
did! You spoke! And guess what? I’m not…” I touch
my face, then my chest above my heart, “Nope, I’m not in
love with you. It’s a miracle!”

He
exhales and stands, wiping off the mud on his face with his hand.

I
say, “Isn’t that what you guys think? That if I have a
conversation with another human being, then poof, insta-love?”

He
jumps forward to grab the gun, but I dodge him.

“
Do
you know how much it sucks to be under constant surveillance by
people who not only won’t talk to you, but won’t let
anyone else talk to you either?” I tuck the paintball gun into
the back of my running shorts and dodge again as he lunges for me.
“Do you guys really need to make my life worse than it already
is?”

He
grabs my arm, but I break his hold by hitting the inside of his
elbow. But he only responds by grabbing both my wrists. I do the only
thing I have left, knee him in the groin. When he just manages to
block he drops my left hand. I’m lifting up my arm to elbow him
in the shoulder, when he spins me and grabs the gun from the back of
my pants.

“
Let
go of me!”

“
Oh,
poor you,” He says, disdainfully, while releasing me to fall
forward into the mud.

I
jump up—so angry—so pissed off, I’m about to do
something I never do, I pull back my arm ready to punch this jerk in
his smug face when he says, “My brother died, because you
wanted to hook-up with a demon.”

Debts
.

My
arm drops. The crony, expecting the punch shoots his arm forward to
block the punch I didn’t throw and elbows me hard in the cheek.
I rock back, teeter, and fall on my butt in the mud.

“
Shit!”
I hear the crony shout. “How badly are you hurt?” And
then his muddy face leans down in front of me. He reaches out and
starts touching the cheek he just bashed.

“
Don’t
touch me, jerk!” I shout.

“
Be
quiet,” he snaps as he keeps running his fingers along my
cheekbone. “I don’t think anything broke.”

Looking
down, my watch catches my attention. “Ugh, you stupid jerk.
It’s five thirty! I won this game ten minutes ago.”

Day
One (Yet, Again)

“
Raven!”
Albert shouts the moment I turn the bend in the path and we come into
view of each other. “I did not assign this to you so you could
roll around in the mud with…what happened to your face?”

Albert’s
brother Nicholas has almost no Swedish accent except when he’s
angry, Albert is the exact opposite. Usually Albert has a nice thick
accent, but when he’s angry his voice drops all inflection. His
last five words were absolutely toneless.

I
can feel the side of my face swelling, I doubt I have a shiner yet,
but it’s on its way.

“
Jones,
report,” Albert snaps.

Ah,
so jerk-face does have a name. Well, a last name at least.

“
She—”
Jones starts, but I interrupt him.

“
Jumped
off a tree and fell on her face.”

And
one might ask why I am defending The Jerk? No clue. The words just
flew out. Sometimes I don’t get my brain. But, as much as it
sounds like a battered girlfriend, he didn’t mean to hit me;
and from the look on Albert’s face, Jones is about to face a
fate much worse than a smashed cheek.

You’d
think that after a year of hard training that I’d have gotten a
couple bruises, even a shiner or two, but no. Albert and every
instructor I’ve worked with have treated me as if I’m
fragile as china. They seem to think that if I get a paper cut, I’ll
just keel over, and then… the world will be screwed.

“
Jones,”
Albert barks.

“
She
tackled me, got my paintball gun, shot me once in the back, three
times in the chest, once in the leg. I retrieved my gun. I thought
she was going for a right uppercut, I guess she wasn’t; when I
went to block, I elbowed her in the right cheek. From my inspection,
I believe there is nothing broken, just bruising.”

“
You’re
dismissed. I’ll see you in thirty minutes at the base.”

As
the stupid jerk runs away, Albert turns and inspects my face, taking
in every inch. When his eyes finish their inspection he asks, “You
okay?”

“
Fine,”
I say. “I didn’t get shot.”

“
No
you didn’t. You attacked one of my men, stole his gun and
unloaded his gun into his chest.”

For
a second, I think he’s annoyed, and then I see the spark of
amusement in his stormy eyes.

“
Well
Albert, you don’t think I pay attention; but I paid good
attention to what Hayvee was planning for dinner.”

“
Speaking
of which, I believe she waits on us.” He turns around and
motions for me to walk beside him.

“
So
what’s going to happen to the stupid jerk face?” I ask as
I walk beside Albert.

“
Stupid
Jerk Face is Jones?” He asks, and when I nod he says, “Jones
is the best soldier I’ve ever trained.” He sighs. “He
was also one of my only men who volunteered for this assignment. But,
I believe he is perhaps too emotionally compromised.”

I
dart my gaze over and Albert acknowledges my look with a halfhearted
grin. We both know how hypocritical it is of Albert to call anyone
emotionally compromised.

“
Yes,
I know,” he says. “However, I am sorry that Jones was so
rough with you.”

“
Okay,
so I’m not defending the jerk, and if you want to reassign him
or whatever, please do, but, he really didn’t mean to hit me.
And honestly,” I point to my face, “I can survive this.
When a soul-bound ever gets through to me, they aren’t going to
pull their punches. I think it’s good I know what it feels
like, so that when someone really wants to kill me, I won’t be
shocked by the pain, and I can fight.”

He
glances my way, and stays quiet for a while, eyelids narrowing. “You
might be right.”

“
Wow,”
I say, stopping.

“
What?”
He glances around him.

“
No.
I just realized something,” I say. “Not only did you
confide in me, I was just talking, and you actually listened. Just,
wow.”

Albert
shakes his head and keeps walking.

The
old Victorian mansion that Albert and his wife bought is one of the
prettiest houses in Arcata. I always admired it growing up. It’s
a delicate work of art with wood scrollwork around every curve and
window. Bay windows poke out from all three of the main floors, at
all four corners. Two brick chimneys stripe the front.

The
mansion is actually four stories (not counting the attic), but the
raised basement where Linnie and I live is separate from the main
house. Even though Albert had once threatened to be my college
roommate, he was hesitant to move me into the main house along with
twenty men (his cronies, who live in ten of the eleven bedrooms
upstairs). So, thankfully Linnie and I get a little privacy (or at
least the illusion of it).

More
of his cronies live in the smaller conjoined Victorian which also
holds a fully equipped training center (that they barely let me use).

“
Purple,”
Albert says, shaking his head, as he does pretty much every time we
get back to the mansion. Oh, yeah, the house is bright purple. To me
this just adds to how awesome the house is. Not so much with Albert.

The
moment I walk into the door I’m tackled.

For
the second time this hour I fall back on my butt. “Yay, we’re
done! We’re done!” My sister Linnie shouts as she knees
me in the stomach. I spit out a mouthful of her brown hair as she
disentangles herself, to sit beside me.

Then
I’m tackled again by a nine month old little chubby baby who’s
also named Albert. He elbows me directly in my quickly blackening
cheek, before settling on my lap. Since little Albert is ninety
percent chub, this probably shouldn’t hurt, but, it does. It
hurts so bad, I have to resist my automatic urge to push the little
tuber out of my lap. I grab my face and settle for making some
swearing-like sounds.

“
What
happened to you?” Linnie asks, “I told you not to let
those ‘biotches’ to get the drop on you when you mud
wrestle. Jab them in the eye. Tell me you at least ripped off her
shirt?”

“
No,
no shirt ripping,” I say bouncing little Albert on my knee,
he’s like the heaviest baby in the history of babies, “and
it was a he—”

“
No
way!” Linnie shouts. “You did not mud wrestle one of the
hot soldier boys! Did Albert mess his pants?”

“
I
am right here,” Albert says from the open doorway to the
kitchen.

I
look back to where a couple of the ‘hot soldier boys’ are
standing above us, also obviously able to hear my sister; I blocked
their entrance by being attacked then staying sprawled on the floor.
I scoot out of the way.

“
I
was talking about the baby,” Linnie says pointing to little
Albert still on my lap. “Honestly, you shouldn’t name
your offspring after you if you can’t handle the confusion.”

To
that, Albert huffs and ducks back into the kitchen.

The
air wafts with the smell of spices, saffron, paprika and cumin.
Hayvee rarely cooks, just from the smell I know it was worth getting
a smashed cheek.

The
butterball on my lap starts babbling, “Da, da, da, da…”