Mikayla
I woke up this morning alone like I’ve done a million times before. Yet today, my heart raced and I feel as if there’s something important that I need to remember.
After forcing myself through a few bites of grain cereal and half a glass of orange juice, I did just as Jagger ordered.
I’m on the second floor of his home, in the shooting gallery. The ceiling is pulled back and birds chirp around me as I shoot at the target about forty yards out. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and listen to the sound of a Song Thrush, a beautiful bird of various shades of brown as it sings while perched in the tree beside me. Jagger can be so gentle when he wants to. I imagine his hard body right behind me, his callused fingers stroking the back of my hand and along my trigger finger as he tells me to breath, to focus on the bird. And when I breathe, I’m more relaxed than I have been since he last held me in his arms. I grip my .38 special and begin my practice.
***
An hour later, I roll up the target paper, with a cocky smile on my face I saunter down the steps. It’s a quarter to twelve, and I head for the kitchen. Since Jagger will be home soon, I’ll start cooking lunch. There’s a heavy drilling sound near the front door. Caught off guard, I almost step into the tiny stream at the end of the landing.
Confused about what’s going on, I start down the foyer to the front door. I’m ten yards away, when I’m knocked back onto my bottom. Bits of glass and wood cut my cheek, arms, and shoulders. And I’m sitting in a puddle of water!
I glance down, scurrying to my knees just as the poisonous fish swish around. They attack the paper target. A figure masks the bright sunlight from where the front door just was.
“Mikayla Bryant, I’ve been waiting to get you alone,” a cold-hearted voice reaches out to me. My hand shields my face, retinas adjusting to the bright day.
A woman with white-blond hair that’s tied into a severe bun at the top of her head, steps inside. She’s wearing a white pant suit that is perfectly defined against her thin frame and has a plummeting neckline where her tiny tits are hiding. She points a hand at me, her fingers are covered in silver and diamond claws that make me gulp.
“You’re Ava Sinclair…” I mumble in horror. The only thought in my head is that this woman has murdered hundreds of people, with knives! All the confidence Jagger instilled in me while we practiced is dashed.
“That’s right, sweetheart.” She pulls two silver sticks from her hair. I hardly have time to blink before one is spearing me in the shoulder.
“Oh, shit!” I gasp. The damn thing is sticking out of my trapezius.
“Next one goes into the heart, or do you still wanna make this easy on me, doll? I’d rather you try out the few self-defense techniques Jagger has taught you these past few days, because really, I don’t want to just stab you in the fucking heart, I want to fight and then cut you up into tiny little pieces.”
I snatch the stick from my shoulder, with a harsh gulp. Adrenaline masked as anger rising by the second. “How dare you? Lady, I’ve never done a thing to you!” I want to kill her. Instantly I’m thinking defense mode. But she’s not stepping toward me, and clearly she doesn’t need to come close to kill me!
“Oh, on the contrary, Mikayla, you were the toy that Jagger just had to have.”
My hands are into fists at my side. And yet, I need a logical explanation to her malfunction. “Okay, so then I’m not your enemy! If Jagger made promises to love and adore you, then you need to fight him. I cannot stand a woman who wants to fight the other woman. Unless that woman so happens to be a willing and aware home wrecker, then women like you need to address your man and yourselves for accepting a man who would cheat on you in the first place!”
“Are you done?” She positions the next hair sticker in her hand. I don’t even flinch as I say, “Hell, no. I’m not done! You tell me what kinda fucking games you’re playing, and then I’m going to beat your ass the good old fashion way. None of this upscale crazy shit, okay?”
Ava bites her bottom lip and bobbles her head in thought for a moment. “Alright, I have wanted to test Jagger’s faithfulness for a while now. I reviewed X Member requests and most of the female ones were for old ladies, or ugly women, then I found a request indicating that the Zihula nation wanted you brought to them. But after a little digging, I found one that was put in by your Uncle Qaaim. Took a little convincing but he told me about letters that you wrote to–”
“Letters?” My balled fist untighten for a moment.
“I’m being sarcastic, Mikayla. I can hear your heartbeat all the way from here. Are you sure you won’t have a heart attack and be unable to make good on your threat to try and beat me to death?”
“No, tell me.” I growl through gritted teeth.
“Qaaim was writing letters. He had Abayomi, an easily manipulated, broken hearted man, believe those letters were from you, his best friend, who disappeared years ago. Abayomi was no great fighter like the remainder of his family. After some talking, we both determined that making the Okeke’s further their alliance with him would be best by orchestrating Abayomi’s death. And who would be easier to kill him then Jagger.”
“You’re despicable.”
She bows. “Thank you. So, Jagger offed Abayomi, brought you home, and you, with your American ways, weren’t the same person who left as a child. Look this sounds like a movie, and I’m not much for fiction. Can we continue with me killing you now?”
I charge…
… It seems to take forever for me to get to Ava, who is standing, less than twenty feet away now, but in my defense, anger got the best of me, despite Jagger’s attempt to make me comfortable when practicing. He’d said no emotion was best. She slashes across my cheek, but I drop just as her silver nail sinks into my skin. And I can just bet that’ll need stitches. Lucky me.
In a squatted position, I kick out my leg, toppling Ava over. Thank the Lord that my mama owns a Southern Comfort restaurant, because I straddle Ava Sinclair and jab her square in the mouth before she finally begins to block.
Neither of us were expecting me to have such skills.
“Shit,” I pant as Ava punches my ribs. I toss my elbow into the side of her jaw, feeling momentary triumph at the sound of her jaw clicking.
Then Ava clasps my chin with her diamond studded nails and I freeze.
“I could slit your throat, Mikayla, right now, and then drink that sweet blood of yours.” Her fingers clamp into my cheeks, the steel of her nails biting into me harshly. “You took Jagger from me. This death of yours is inevitable. So would you like to keep fighting? I’ll forgo slicing your neck, and we can fight until I’ve beaten you into a tenderized mess, and then… of course, I’ll slit your fucking throat! So what do you say, give up and die pretty, or …”
“Fight!”
She lets go. In an unspoken agreement the two of us stand up. Ava’s spiky heels click against the ground as she moves around me slowly. She kicks up a leg, the heel of her stiletto slices off the left side of my camisole. I gasp. My shoulders are squared tightly, hands in fists, ready as I’ll ever be.
“You had Abayomi murdered for no reason, he was a good person,” I say through gritted teeth. “You are gonna wish you hadn’t given me the chance, Ava,” I sneer.
Ava laughs. She does a roundhouse kick, this time the air swooshes past my face, and the tip of her stiletto is a fraction of an inch away from my nose. Highly intimidating. “C’mon, I won’t render you blind, Mikayla, I may be a bitch, but I called a fair fight, and fair is what you’ll get.”
“Fair?” I say through gritted teeth, from my peripheral I’m searching for anything to put this bitch down.
‘Listen to the birds, Princess Mikayla…’ The silent words whisper against my skin. There’s a churning in my chest, as I start to hear the sound of the Song Thrush that I just focused on during target practice.
Ava’s leg comes up and straight down. She’s toying with me, like a lion pawing at its prey. In her mind I’m no threat to her. Well, underestimating me is just fine.
I continue to hear that calming sound until… the spirits begin to make my skin hot. Not, in pain, but can be comparable to a calming heat that transcends over me…
***
For most of my life, I have ignored the spirits no matter how patient they were, I just have never had the strength to let them in. Today, for the sake of saving my life, I let them take control. When Ava enjoys my fear by, kicking up her leg, it feels like I’m sitting in the front seat of a theater watching. With supernatural power, my hand thrusts beneath her calf. Her leg is in a fully erect position, sending her onto her back again.
Without thought, I’ve straddled her and I’m using my elbow to bash against her mouth. Ava pushes back on her heels. Like a primitive animal, I hold on. I press my elbow, and then the bone of my forearm, into her nose. That’s the only spot I target.
I continue. Elbow. Forearm until I hear a crack as she screams. Blood is rushing from her nose into her mouth. Ava presses back again!
Now, I force all my weight onto her. My hefty hips hold her lean ones down as the back of her head, her hair and neck become wet with water. The fish begin to latch onto the nape of her neck, holding tightly.
The warming sensation ends, and my tongue is loosened. The hold the spirits had over my body ends.
“That’s for Abayomi!” I scream as her body begins to convulse due to the poison pouring into her bloodstream. And then my thick hips and ass are no longer necessary to hold Ava down as she’s let go of my arms.
“Ouch…” I cry out, for the first time noticing that her talons had clawed deeply into my biceps.
An engine roars vicariously close to the front door. Jagger is lunging into what was once the entrance to his home.
His eyes are a dark blue storm and the worry etched across his golden skin makes me burst into tears with an array of emotion. Shock. Sadness that I’ve taken my first life. Relief. There are undertones of happiness for vindicating Abayomi’s death, but not nearly enough.
He scoops me into his arms. Jagger starts by kissing my forehead. Then his lips seek my mouth in a way that takes my breath away. Our tongues greedily seek and twine around each other’s until I’m gasping for air.
“You did this?” He asks, glancing around.
“Well, not the door–”
“I mean Ava? You killed her?”
I lick my lips in thought. Ava had made it seem like they were in love. “Yeah… she started it.”
“I’m proud of you, Mikayla.” He paws at my cheek. “Uthando lwami, I left you early for something very important. I just didn’t expect Ava to be here. She was supposed to be in Sri Lanka.”
“I’m okay.”
He sits down on the couch with me in his lap. “You’re strong enough, Mikayla. You can do anything.”
My beam is bright, despite the circumstances. There’s nothing like motivation from the one you love.
“And now, I must tell you what happened to…”