Light and Dark Ch. 03

Iris

The next morning I get to campus extra early. My breath plumes out in front of me as I walk at a brisk pace towards the labs. The winter nighttime sky is shaded with soft pinks and yellows, the moon still visible over the city's horizon. I rub my fingers together in my pockets as I walk, trying to warm them up. It always seems a little colder when I'm in the city, even though I'm surrounded by people and activity.

Right now it feels less crowded. Most students don't opt to have a class this early, and I'm ahead of time, so there is something hushed and almost reverent about the campus now, insulated from the rest of the city by the wide paved walkways and old buildings.

I sit down on a favorite bench outside of the Edison lab building, waiting until it gets closer to class before I resign myself to going inside. The building is beautiful, but I generally dislike being indoors.

I rub my palms against my jeans, trying to ward off the prickling anticipation travelling up my body. I want to know if Ash will be here today. I woke up dreaming of him, of his heated hands against my skin, the ways his dark, silvery eyes seem to strip me bare. I still can't believe that I got so carried away with him yesterday, let him touch me like that-

"Hey, Iris!" I jump a mile in my seat when a figure comes striding towards me. It's Paul, one of Claire's friends, and he happens to be enrolled in this class with me. He's a nice guy, but I keep my distance because, like most men, he likes me too much to just be friendly.

"Hi, Paul," I give him a friendly wave.

He bounds a little closer, like an over-eager puppy, and parks himself on the bench, uncomfortably close. "How's it going?" He seems jubilant as he asks this.

"Alright," I answer, deciding to give no more than is polite.

"Hey, aren't you cold out here? You aren't wearing much." He rubs his arms in an attempt to warm up. He eyes my body with appreciation, looking speculative, and I feel a cold spark of irritation. Why didn't I feel this way when Ash looked at me?

"Listen," Paul says, breaking me out of my thoughts, "Claire and some of us were talking about going out tonight. It's an underground club downtown. Maurice says it's really cool. Are you going to go?" He looks at me with open hope.

"Um, I didn't know about it," I mumble, checking the time on my phone to make sure that we aren't late to class. Muarice. Before I saw Ash yesterday, I'd been trying to convince myself that I had a crush on Maurice. He's Greek-Latino, and similar in coloring to Ash, with dark eyes- but without their luminescent, cat-like quality. I'd made myself go out with him once or twice, but like with most men, he left me cold.

"Well, you should totally go," says Paul finally, looking at me earnestly. "And we should probably get to class," he adds, looking at his watch.

I nod, and we stand, walking into the Edison lab building. Paul rushes up to the door of our classroom so that he can open it for me, and when I murmur a thank you he grins at me like a kid, his baby-faced cheeks dimpling. I survey the room. Every one is here, except for the person I was hoping and dreading to see. I sigh, unsure if I'm relieved or disappointed.

At the end of the uneventful lab I pack my bag slowly, not particularly excited about heading to my next class. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Paul is approaching me again. He waves as he gets closer, and then leans against the lab station counter. "So, are you going to go?" he asks brightly.

"Sorry?" I don't know what he's talking about.

"To the club, tonight, with Claire and Maurice and everyone," he says it urgently, as if partying is of serious import. He pauses, looking at me with a mix of sincerity and anxiety. "I'll be there," he adds finally, after a pregnant pause, and I feel a wave of sympathy for Paul.

* * *

"You look so hot." My best friend Claire is sipping a whiskey-ginger, and I can barely hear her over the blasting music. The club is filled with shifting lights and the beat thrums through the ground, the rhythm keeping time with the reverberations in my body. After letting Claire dress me up at her apartment, she had led me to the club, which was accessed by a non-descript door with no sign. A slim, androgynous bouncer lets us in, looking like he should belong in a fashion ad rather than handling belligerent drunks. I protested for a while, but finally Claire had convinced me to go inside with her.

"Claire, this leaves nothing to the imagination." I purse my lips, looking at the tight black dress Claire had demanded I wear, noting how my breasts look like they're poured into the top, while the tight hem barely covers my ass.

Claire sighs in exasperation and gets to her feet. "That's the entire point. You're always hiding your banging body. Why not get some attention?" She cranes her head around to get a better look at me, and I can tell she has her fashion editor wannabee hat on.

"I don't want to attract anyone. So," I shout over the music, gesturing at the tight dress, "this is not in line with my whole objective."

Claire shrugs her thin shoulders. "Fine then. Don't wear it to attract anyone. Wear it to feel hot." At this she starts looking at her own outfit, which consists of a tight white top with a pleather mini-skirt. Claire is tall and model thin, so clothes always look like they were made for her, with the fabric draping elegantly over the clean lines of her body. I, on the other hand, have shape, with full breasts and a rounded ass, with my stomach curving so slightly that no one would notice unless they saw me naked.

"Come on," Claire says, taking hold of my hand like the sister she is to me. "Let's dance."

I down the rest of my drink and follow her with small steps, unused to Claire's high-heeled shoes I'd borrowed. All of my clothes are based on comfort, and, I'll admit, to ward off unwanted attention. Sometimes, and only sometimes, do I allow Claire to play Barbie with me and coo over my features as she applies my makeup.

The last of my drink is still fizzing in my mouth as Claire playfully grinds against me. I blush a little, but reciprocate, putting some bend in my knees before sliding back up her body with a playful wink. I usually don't want to dance with random guys at clubs like these, so this is normal for Claire and I: we like to be playful. I make out Claire's delighted laugh under the heavy bass that flows through my veins. A small feeling of euphoria blossoms as I lose myself to the electronic music and the charged atmosphere of all of the dancing bodies around me. In a way, it almost feels like the inverse of the peace I feel when I am out in the natural world: there is an electric grid of all the life around me, each piece with its own glowing signature, ephemeral and energizing as my mind brushes past them.

This feeling, however, has a very different flavor from what I experience in nature. Instead of peace, I feel filled with a sensuality sharpened by adrenaline, like I'm riding a cresting wave. I open my eyes, looking over Claire's shoulder at the undulating dancers. I spot Maurice and Paul both dancing with women that look like supermodels. After realizing that Claire and I weren't interested in hitting the floor with them, they had struck out on their own. They did just fine without us, I think, as a preternaturally beautiful girl with red hair slides up Maurice's body. Come to think of it, everyone here is unusually attractive, with high cheekbones, gleaming hair, and expensive clothes. I survey the crowd some more, spotting a girl with long, sleek silver hair dancing with a large man that looks like belongs in the Highlands rather than a nightclub, a pair of twins that are mesmerizing as they echo each other's movements, and a man with shining white-blonde hair and blue eyes so light they are almost clear- and they're staring right at me. I blink, startled by the intensity of the way he is looking at me. He is sitting at the bar, not moving, facing the crowd looking like he's trying to telepathically communicate with me.

I tuck my head into Claire's neck and do a turn with her, hoping that the strange, hauntingly beautiful man will have become distracted by something else. I glance back up. To my alarm, he is heading through the crowd, making a beeline for me. The thick crowd seems to part for him like the red sea as people look up at him, some sneering, others with almost reverential faces.

"I think you've gotten someone's attention," Claire says, her voice barely audible over the music.

Before I can think of what to do, he is strides right up to us, and, weirder yet, the dancers that surround us back off, giving the three of us a wide berth. It's as if everyone but us knows who this guy is. Maybe he owns this club?

Claire and I stare stupidly at him for a moment. I have to admit that he does stand out from a crowd. He's freakishly tall and well built, with white-blonde hair like mine. He's dressed in kind of a weird outfit, with boots, leather pants, some kind of a velvety doublet coat, and- I have to look twice before I can believe it- a sword at his belt? I look up at his face again to find that his winter-sky gaze is still trained on me. He does not look angry, or as if he is about to make a pass at me. If anything, he looks fascinated.

Claire is able to gather her wits before I can. "Can we help you?" she asks, using the icy tone she reserves for men who give us unwelcome attention.

The knight- because that is what he looks like, I decide- drops to one knee. For one wild moment I think that maybe he is about to propose to me. Claire and I exchange a loaded look. Is this guy nuts?

"My lady," the knight begins, his voice loud and regal. "It is a great honor to be in your presence again, after all of these years. I am, and will eternally be, yours." He reaches out to take my hand in his, and then he kisses my knuckles chastely.

I am too flabbergasted by his proclamation to pull my hand away. This is the second time in twenty-four hours that a man has kissed my hand, and I feel like the world has been turned upside down. I start looking around us, thinking that maybe a camera is in sight, and this is some kind of internet prank.

When no cameras can be found, I look at Claire again, totally flummoxed. She looks from me, to the knight, and then back again, looking concerned and amused all at once.

"Look, friend," she finally says to him as I pull my hand out of his, "that's nice that you are feeling honored to be in our presence, but I think you might have us mixed up? If there is some kind of renaissance fair after party happening here, we're not apart of it." She makes a gesture to the people around us, who have begun to dance again but are still watching us out of the corners of their eyes. Many of them wear similar clothing to him, I notice. Minus the sword.

The knight turns his attention to Claire, his look frosty. "I am not honored to be in your presence, silly girl, but to be in hers," he says, inclining his head towards me. I feel my cheeks go red at how weird and embarrassing this is.

"Look, will you get up?" I interject.

"Whatever my lady commands," he responds, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. I'm startled by the difference in height as he towers over us. His elegant features, combined with his erect posture, makes him look like a weird hybrid between a male model and a military man.

"Enough socializing, my lady," he says, making me wonder if I missed something. "You must come with me so that I can bring you to safe harbor. There are too many of your enemies in this sanctuary." He looks at me with an expression of urgency, resting one hand on the hilt of his sword as if he might need to spring into action at any moment.

I've decided that this guy is completely crazy, and potentially dangerous. My mind is spinning, trying to think of how I can get him to go away. Claire is looking really uncomfortable, looking around to see if someone can rescue us from the angelically handsome weirdo.

"I'm not going anywhere with anyone," I say finally, looking at him as levelly as I can.

He frowns a little, tilting his head to the side, as if I'm being unreasonable. "I'm afraid that is not an acceptable course of action right now, Iris Wheaton." He has the decency to look a little uncomfortable as he says this.

The seriousness I see in his eyes scares me. I try to stand taller, to show that he doesn't intimidate me. "Obviously, we've had some kind of confusion. I don't know you, and I'm not going anywhere with you." I surprise myself with how confident I sound.

He sets his mouth, realizing that we've reached an impasse. The white and blue neon lights flash over his sculpted face, making him look like a fierce and otherworldly avenging angel. If he hadn't been wearing that getup and had approached me in a casual way, I probably would have tripped all over myself to dance with him.

Claire puts her hand in mine, and leans to speak into my ear, out of his earshot with all of the pulsing music. "Let's just get away from him!" She starts tugging me towards the crowd, in the opposite direction. Since all of our politeness has been exhausted, I follow her. We begin weaving through the thick dancing crowd, connected only by our linked hands.

I glance back, only to feel my stomach drop as I see that he is following us, except that he has the advantage of having some kind of universal kryptonite- everyone he gets close to steps back to let him pass.

"Claire!" I shout, but she can't hear me over the music, and pushes on.

Before I know it, a cool, strong hand is wrapped around my bicep. I throw my body forward to startle him into letting go, but his grip is like an iron band. If I keep trying, I'll just dislocate my own shoulder.

Claire looks back, realizing that she's lost my hand, but it's too late- I'm being dragged through the crowd that parts before him as he walks with purpose towards the exit. The dancers fall back into place behind us, blocking a now frantic Claire.

A sickening feeling trickles down my spine. I had never really felt threatened, since we were in a crowded club full of people and bouncers, but now, with everyone ignoring how a man is dragging a resistant and struggling girl behind him, I think I may have overestimated my safety. I continually try to ground my feet, but he just tugs me forward without looking back. It feels like he has the strength of ten men. It's like it's no effort at all for him to forcibly pull a kicking and screaming girl.

"Let go! Stop!" I'm screaming now, looking around to appeal to the dancers around me. It's as if we don't exist.

I use my other hand to try to pry his grip apart, digging my nails into his skin to make him let go. "Stop it! Fucking let me go!" My voice is becoming hoarse and cracks, but I feel like if I stop screaming, no one will notice him taking me through the exit door.

No one will be able to help me then.

I get increasingly frantic, hitting and scratching at his back. He doesn't react it all, doesn't even flinch, even though I know that the scratches have to hurt. "Let me go, goddamnit! Someone help me! Help me! Stop! Help me!"

My litany continues to go unnoticed by the entire club. Somewhere, under the music, I can hear Claire shouting too. An idea strikes me like lightning. Even if this guy somehow has control over the entire club, I still have the kind of help anyone with a cellphone has access too.

With my free arm I reach down into my purse, and for an agonizing moment I think that maybe it's not there. Then I feel the cool edge of my phone, and my trembling fingers wrap around it. I sneak a glance up at the back of the light blonde head of the terrifyingly handsome man that is intent on dragging me from the club, hoping that he doesn't take this moment to look back. With alarm, I see that he isn't heading towards the main exit, which would take us to a busy road, but some kind of side door.

With a shaking hand I manage to dial the right number.

"911. What's your emergency?" I hear the woman's voice just as he shoulders open the door and drags me through it. The cold air is a shock to my system.

I know I've only got one shot at this, since he'll hear me, but I have to chance it. "Help me! 261 Steward Avenue, in the back alley, this guy is trying to-"

Before I can blink, my phone is shattered on the pavement. My abductor's eyes blaze a fiery, icy blue that somehow makes me feel like my insides are being eviscerated. My breathing becomes shallow, and things start to blur around the edges.

"Do not involve them!" He hisses, his angelically carved face looming close to mine as his grip on my arm tightens painfully.

"Please," I decide to appeal to any sense of decency he has, since all of my other tactics have failed. I can only hope that the police will make it before- what?- my brain starts looping, like it's run into a glitch that it can't process. "Please, just let me go back inside. I don't know who you are. You've got me mixed up with someone else." To my horror, I'm stuttering, trying to choke back tears.

He reaches up to grasp my other shoulder, so that he has both arms captured. He looks at me intently for a moment, looking uneasy, an expression I can sense doesn't often grace his features.

"Calm down. I am not your enemy. I am your protector." He breathes deeply, as if coming to a decision. "And I will protect you, whether or not you want my protection or not. You will be coming with me."

I don't know whether to feel relieved that this psychopath has some kind of knight in shining armor routine going on, or more worried. My fear begins to shift quality, transmorphing into a prickly, desperate anger. "I already told you. I'm not going anywhere with you." I'm practically spitting.

"Yes," he says, his cultured voice clipped, "you are."

"She said no, Lien."

I whirl around, unable to identify the speaker in the darkness, until I follow my abductor's sharp gaze over my shoulder. Behind me, Ash seems to dissolve out of the surrounding dark of the alleyway. I hardly recognize him.

Yesterday he seemed like a really sexy college guy- all winks and smiles. Now he takes up more space, looking taller and broader than I remembered. He walks towards us so smoothly, so panther-like, that it sends a chill down my spine. His eyes seem completely black in the darkness, blank and unreadable. Ostensibly, he is here to save me, but for some reason my initial relief has become tinged with a more primordial fear- of prey when confronted with a predator. Somehow, overnight, Ash has become terrifying.

I try to remind myself that his intimidation is aimed at my abductor, this Lien, and not me. He draws closer to us, his casual and slow gait belied by the way his muscles are tensed. He reminds me of a cobra, readying for that lethal, unpredictable strike.

"Ash." Lien inclines his head and upper body forward just barely, as if the small bow was a concession he was forced to make.

"Lien." Ash doesn't echo Lien's small bow, but holds still, his dark eyes intense as he looks, unblinking, at Lien. I realize for the first time that Ash hasn't looked at me once this whole time. "The lady said that she does not want to go with you. I believe custom would dictate that you obey her wishes?"

"Custom does not apply here, as you well know. She is not safe." Lien's hand tightens on my bicep. I'm going to have bruises tomorrow. Under the faint light from a nearby streetlamp the carved planes of Lien's pale, ethereal face look fierce.

"I vow her safety, while I am with her this night," Ash replies, his voice deadly silken.

I do not know what to make of this conversation. Are they both in the same medieval club? What the hell is going on here? I look back and forth between the dark, threatening image of Ash and the increasingly livid Lien, feeling like I am Alice and I've fallen down the rabbit hole.