Hector
The next evening he resumed his duties as embassy guard. First he was the on-call guard, before relieving Gray and plopping himself down at the front desk to man the phones and watch the doors.
Normally the night shift was the more eventful one, but being that it was only a Tuesday, it was unlikely that he would have anything to do. So he stretched out, put his feet up where he could still see the double doors of the entrance, and let his mind wander.
Shockingly, it went straight to Rachel. He could practically see her there in front of him, pink pixie-cut hair, vibrant green eyes and all. Oh how he couldn’t wait to see her again. She was stunningly gorgeous. Short compared to him—he knew she was roughly average height for a human woman, perhaps five and a half feet tall, maybe a little less. She was thick, but in a sort of blocky manner, as if she’d once had a lot of muscle. It didn’t bother him; he thought she was stunning.
The round, rosy cheeks of her face stood out in his memory as well, something that he’d sort of seen, but never realized he liked until he thought about her just now. He frowned as his brain recalled a memory of her from the night before.
She took out her nose ring.
He made a mental note to tell her that she didn’t have to take it out for him, if that’s why she had. He was impartial to body jewelry, not particularly caring one way or another about it, as long as there wasn’t too much of it. His brain continued to reconstruct her in his little daydream, including the little birthmark she had on the lower left side of her neck. It was a dark spot roughly the size of his thumb.
Hector was positive she hated it, despised it even, but had learned to just live with it. So he knew that despite how absolutely cute he found it, he would have to be careful not to draw too much attention to it, otherwise it would make her uncomfortable, which he absolutely did not want to do.
“Stunning,” he said to himself as he admired her.
There was more than just her looks, but appreciating her personality wasn’t something he could reconstruct into a visual image. Nor did his bear care quite as much about that part of her, and just then it was the one running the show, like it had been the instant he got back to his quarters that night. One-track mind, apparently.
Thank you, Gray, he thought, making a note to buy his friend something nice as a thank you for pushing him to contact her and try for a date one more time. Otherwise Hector would probably have just continued to consider doing it but stopping one step short, out of fear of rejection. Now though he had one date down, and she wanted to see him again.
A second date! He bounced in the chair with excitement. They’d talked briefly on the phone earlier that day. She’d been about to go into one of her groups and hadn’t had time for a long talk, which was probably for the best, because he had no idea what to say. But they’d arranged to see each other in the morning, after he’d grabbed a few hours of sleep. A lunch date.
Hector grinned, his cheeks hurting.
A breeze picked up and wafted in through one of the doors. The air-conditioning had stopped, and in an effort to keep the embassy from getting overly warm they had opened many of the doors to try and create air movement. Hector deeply inhaled the fresh air and hoped it would continue, bringing with it all the scents of late summer, the odd hoot of an owl, and—
He sat up straight as voices reached his ears. Angry voices, raised almost to a shouting level. Making out the actual words was tough, even with his hearing. They were distorted by the wind and likely the angles as well, making understanding it tough. But he could hear the difference in pitch enough to know that one was male and one was female.
They were close by as well.
Footsteps shuffled and a shifter, one of the random weekly visitors, came walking in. His eyes were droopy and his shoulders hunched, but otherwise he looked fine. Hector was glad to see that he wasn’t wasted, just ready for bed. Less work for him.
“Heya, Hector. Thanks for keeping the lights on. I’m just gonna grab some food and then I’ll be outta your hair.”
“Sure thing,” he said, looking past him.
The shifter followed his gaze, heard the voices and nodded. “Couple of humans. Not sure what they’re arguing about. Seems kinda bad though.”
Hector snorted. “Of course it does. It always does.”
“Yeah.” The shifter didn’t seem to care much, more interested in food. He ambled on by, patting the oval shaped desk which Hector sat in the middle of as he went on by into the lounge/kitchen area.
Hector got up and paced around the lobby a little between the doorway and the desk. He wasn’t supposed to leave the lobby without calling someone else to come stand guard. They didn’t truly expect the embassy to come under attack, but other emergencies and such could always arise. Hector never left his post except to go to the bathroom, and even that was located right off the lobby, within hearing range of the phone if something happened.
Otherwise, he stayed planted where he was. Those were the rules. It was his job. He didn’t leave. Not even to get involved in the argument that was definitely escalating outside.
The male’s voice became even louder, angrier, and whatever he was saying the woman was shouting right back. Hector went to the doorway and stuck his head out, but that was as far as he was willing to go. He still couldn’t quite see them; they were at too much of an angle.
Hector paced back and forth some more, trying to relax, to stay calm. He desperately wanted to get involved, to stop the man from doing something he might regret. Or the woman, for that matter. Hector had no idea the cause of the fight, or which party would be more willing to escalate it first. All he knew was that he was going crazy being forced to stay at his post.
The desk shuddered as he slammed one of his clubbed fists into it, careful not to hit it hard enough to break it, just hard enough to express his anger. There had to be something he could do. They couldn’t be far; the voices were too loud. If he just walked down to the front of the embassy, he could probably see them. Maybe shouting at them would be enough to get them to stop.
“Okay Hector, you can do it. Just walk down the stairs, tell the guy to leave her alone, and then come on right back up.”
He nodded, looking at the phone, expecting it to ring any time now to interrupt him. Frowning, he picked up the phone and brought it around the desk, taking it as close to the door as he could. It got about fifteen feet away from the desk before the cord went tight.
“Damn. Okay, that’ll have to do.”
Hector was well aware he was going overboard, but it was his duty. He loved his job, and while the argument sounded bad, he was well aware that if a shifter went out of control in the city, the damage and possible death toll would be far higher than what could happen from this argument. It wasn’t fair to prioritize that way, but he knew he had to.
Setting the phone down, he stood up, tugged his shirt tight, sucked in a deep breath, and walked out the doorway.
Almost immediately he found himself looking to the left, trying to find the source of the voices. They were far enough down the street that he couldn’t see them until he cleared the last of the stairs and stood on the sidewalk. They were much farther than he’d anticipated. The voices must be carrying extra far in the quiet of the night.
Cloud Lake wasn’t much of a town, with a low population, and it didn’t have much of a nightlife. Once the evening rolled around, the town shut down, becoming far more quiet than any city-dweller would ever expect. It was that sense of quiet that had allowed him to hear the voices.
Even as he took a step toward them, the man’s voice reached another level, and then without hesitation he struck the woman.
Hector lost it.
The rumble that erupted from his chest filled the night and he ran toward the confrontation. The woman had spun away and was resting up against the driver’s side door of a car. The man saw—or perhaps heard—Hector coming, and he took off at a dead run.
Angry at his actions, and even angrier at his cowardice, Hector gave chase.
“It’ll be okay,” he said to the woman as he sped past her.
The man was fleet of foot, and disappeared around a corner. Hector closed, but his ultra-sharp hearing picked up the sound of a car starting, and he knew he might be too late.
“Come here, you fucker,” he snarled, rounding the corner as tires screeched and the car pulled out from a spot several hundred feet up the road. Hector grimaced and tried to run even faster, but the man had had too much of a head start on him. He got close to the car and threw himself at it, but all he managed to do was dig his hands into the bumper enough to leave a dent before it accelerated out of reach.
“Motherfucker,” he growled, picking himself up.
He tried to get the license plate, but the car was already turning around another corner.
Angry at himself for waiting so long to intervene, Hector walked back around the corner, his eyes looking for the woman.
She too was gone. But that wasn’t the first thing that caught his eye.
Red and orange light danced across the street, illuminating the nearby buildings and cars as it danced crazily. Shouts reached his ears as he stared in horror at the sight before him.
The embassy was on fire.