Dragon Kin

07

Alicja

Ismael slipped into the darker shadows and began walking with an unhurried stride toward the street, and then he turned left and out of sight. The man, the one reported to be naked on the roof was Ben.

I thought I kinda knew it would be Ben. I wanted it to be him, but not in a bad way. I mean, I didn't want to believe that Ben was eaten or something otherwise, gruesome. If it was him, well then it was alright, right? No big bad was flying around snatching people up and eating them.

Ismael must have seen who it was as well, but he didn't appear to be happy or relieved, or any less wary. He looked nearly feral at this point. His shoulders were up, his legs walked stiffly, and his head was down. His stoop was more pronounced because of his thin build.

Which meant he was still worried about whatever took Ben. Ismael didn't need Ben to be gruesome. What took Ben, was bad enough all on it's own. He didn't want to meet up with it.

I looked up in the air, and across the rooftops. Shit, he has me worried now.

I had decided to follow him for a short time — and that was the direction back to my home anyway, right? I took a step, and then stopped. I stopped because three men, from different groups, stepped toward the corner as well. All at the same time.

There was something predator about them. I couldn't name it, but it was there, and strong enough I didn't question it. I simply turned back to watch the firemen trying to get Ben on the ladder, and wiped my nose.

Maybe those men had something to do with this as well. Maybe they didn't.

Ismael obviously walked a life that would include desperate measures and desperate times. Still, it was an odd feeling. I mean, he was at least partners with Ben when he blocked us on the road. He was a threat then. He was a threat until he was threatened off. Now he was not threatening — he was more pathetic, actually. But why did a drop of guilt trouble my stomach when I saw those three predators going after him?

It was odd.

Shaking my head, and deciding Ben wasn't coming down, I turned toward the corner to go home. I waved to the few 'Night Cheri's' that were called out by some men as I passed. It was fine that they watched, in fact I planned on crossing the street when I got there so I would be in their sight longer.

Just because they were after Ismael, doesn't mean they aren't after me.

The thought almost felt like it was from outside me. Like I heard it rather than thought it.

I looked around. That's how unsure I was. I had just stepped onto the curb of the far side of the street when it voiced it's opinion. It was like it had mass. Gravity.

Fuck I'm jumpy.

When I took two steps down the street toward my lane, I saw him. He wore white, and gray. His white hair was longish, like he was due for a trim, but not quite. His body was a V from shoulders to feet. The clothing was linen — with an embarrassing thread count. A tropic jacket over a gray silk shirt, with pants to match the jacket, and you never see polished shoes down here.

Never. It's a thing. It just doesn't happen. You'll see thousand dollar basketball shoes, sure. But nothing with wing-tips. This man wasn't from around here. Those were wing-tips.

"And you are?" I asked, when I came closer, and stopped. Damn, he had a handsome face — an attractive well sculptured face. I'm not kidding. It was like a Brad Pitt, Peter Parker mash-up.