Chapter Eight

After sleeping late and doing some sparring at the training house Quint and the Children of the Dawn had built, it's well after dark by the time I get out into the streets. I'd done some digging – as much as I could anyway – and had narrowed my search down to one hundred and forty-two possible Kaitlyn Howards in the Los Angeles area.

I stare at the list in my hand – the list that contains the names and addresses of all one hundred and forty-two Kaitlyn Howards I could find. And there's no guarantee that the one I'm looking for is even on this list.

Yeah, I have no idea how I'm going to find her.

Feeling frustrated and annoyed, I tuck the list back into my pocket and start to walk my normal beat. Quint's not back from Chondelai yet, but he has eyes and ears everywhere. I'm scheduled to patrol tonight, which means that I'm not going to be able to hit the club to blow off some steam. Not tonight, anyway.

My hope is that I can find something to kill to take my mind off things. Although, dark creatures to kill are something that's been in short supply the last few weeks.

I prowl the usual alleys and backstreets, searching for something – anything – to kill. But nothing rears its evil head. There is literally nothing going on out here. It's almost as if the world – or at least, all of the dark things that dwell in it – are holding their collective breaths as they cower in the shadows.

Maybe we've been so good and so efficient at our jobs that we've driven them underground. Permanently. It's a nice thought, but even as it passes through my mind, I know I can reject it out of hand. It's only a matter of time before a Shongtal, or a Chokan, or some other evil creature decides it's had enough of hiding and comes back out into the night.

When it does, I'll be there, ready to cut it to pieces. Until then, I have little to do but walk around twiddling my thumbs, apparently.

I enter an open field behind a large, four story building. It's dilapidated and abandoned. Most of the windows have been broken out and the brick facade of the building is cracked and chipped away. The building, I think it used to be an office of some kind way back when, is pretty much a hotel for crackheads now.

Whenever I sweep the building, all I see are people laying on the concrete floor in a drug-induced stupor, hookers down on their knees, earning a few bucks, or any of a thousand different kinds of debauchery. It's actually a pretty depressing sight.

The field itself is littered with old appliances, tons of garbage, and a couple of old, rusted out cars that have been stripped down to the frames. I climb up on what's left of the hood of an old truck and sit down. Leaning back, I let out a long breath and stare up at the sky. It's a crisp, cloudless night – which seems to be the norm in Los Angeles.

If there is one thing I do miss about Chondelai, it's the fact that there's actual weather there. There are days that are warm, days that are cool, days it rains. Hell, there are even some days it snows. But here in LA, every day seems to be exactly the same as the last one.

Some days I don't feel like I fit in here. Like I don't belong. Not that I shouldn't be a Ranger – I proved my mettle with them. Just in this world. I don't feel anything really for the humans I'm sworn to protect. I don't feel a connection to this world. I just don't feel like I should necessarily be here.

I run a hand through my hair and shake my head. “You're just feeling sorry for yourself again.”

As I stare up at the silvery slice of moon in the sky, some of the things Deyro said to me back at the bar the other night reverberated through my mind – feeling the truth of the words hitting me all over again. I do feel isolated. Alone. I'm more or less shunned by the older Rangers and I haven't built any connections with our human allies.

I'd never admit it to Deyro – or anybody else for that matter – but the truth is, I am lonely. I'd expected to walk in and be accepted by the Rangers. My accomplishments in the Trials speak for themselves. I do belong among them.

And yet, they treat me like an outsider. Like somebody beneath them. Not worthy to be in their ranks.

Respect is earned.

Deyro's words float through my mind again and again. That I have to earn their respect, after what I've accomplished already – it's infuriating. And I've always believed that respect is a two-way street. They've shown me none, so why should I show them? Why should I defer to them when they've done nothing but ostracize me?

Even more than that though – how am I supposed to earn their respect when they won't give me a chance?

I rub the bridge of my eyes and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to silence the noise in my head. I don't want to think about it anymore. And I sure as hell don't want to keep feeling sorry for myself all night.

Turning my head up to the sky, I close my eyes and let the cool breeze wash over me. With no dark creatures to kill, I need to find something else to occupy my mind. My thoughts turn to the list in my pocket and to Kaitlyn Howard.

If respect is earned, I have to think that tracking her down may earn me a few points in my column. Maybe. With Quint, you never know. But at least, figuring out how I'm going to find her will kill some time.

I pull the list out of my pocket and look at all the names and addresses again. Nothing stands out to me – no matter how hard I stare and squint at it. Feeling my frustration growing already, I fold the page and put it away again.

Thinking back to the night at the club, I picture her face. Her skin is so fair, perfectly framed by her lustrous dark hair. She's maybe, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and when I think about her, I feel a tightening in my groin. More than that though, I feel my pulse accelerate – which is a new sensation for me.

I enjoy women, don't get me wrong. But for me, it's a mutually pleasurable experience and nothing more. Women and emotion never mix – not until now, apparently. Whatever that means.

“Ignore it,” I tell myself. “You're all out of whack because of Quint, Deyro, and all the bullshit going on with them.”

I nod to myself, convinced. That much is true. I've been running a little hot for a few days now and my temper and emotions have been a little harder to keep in check. I can't trust whatever feelings are swirling around inside of me right now because it's likely tainted by the fact that my blood is up. Way up.

I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to focus and center myself as I've been taught. I feel a calming energy flowing through me, envisioning it as a soft blue light – the color of my Clan – flowing like a river through my body. Slowly, my breathing calms, my heart slows, and my thinking starts to come into clearer focus.

I open my eyes again and focus on the problem before me – how to find Kaitlyn Howard. I think back to the night I saw her and recall the thing that drew me to her – the aura around her body. It was bright. Vivid. Colorful. And it was powerful. Strong.

Maybe, if I focus on the energy coming off of her – on that aura – it can somehow work as a homing beacon. Maybe, if I concentrate on the energy, it will lead me to her. It drew me toward her hard that night – maybe, it can again. It's a longshot, but it's really the only shot I have.

The magic of my Clan makes me sensitive to energies – which can be good and bad. Good if I know how to control it. Bad if I don't and somebody is able turn it against me. Which is why I think I was so paralyzed in Club Ice the other night – I hadn't been ready for it. Hadn't expected it. And because of that, I was overwhelmed by it. And whoever the white-haired guy with the dark aura was, had somehow turned my own magic against me.

Truth be told, because I prefer wielding a sword, I never spent as much time as I probably should have, learning how to control my own energy and magic. There is still so much I don't know – so much I obviously need to learn. I know that my magic can enhance my abilities and I should probably work with it.

But reading all those dusty old books and moldy scrolls just never interested me all that much. It's boring and not really my thing. I much prefer taking direct action and jumping into the middle of a fight – mostly because I know there are scant few who can best me with a blade in my hand.

I clear my throat and then do my best to clear my mind. I take several long, deep breaths, closing my eyes and turning my face up into the breeze once more. Doing something I've rarely ever done, I summon my power, letting the energy build in me, letting it flood my body like I've never allowed it to before. I feel a thrill as the magic courses through my body. My every nerve ending is tingling and my body feels like it's vibrating with electricity.

When I open my eyes, I feel filled with a power that's exhilarating and breathtaking. It's heady and intoxicating. I've spent so much time honing my craft with a blade, I've never given much thought to the actual power of my people.

With the energy inside of me filling me so completely I feel like I'm about to burst, I let Kaitlyn Howard's image fill my mind. I summon the memory of the energy she gave off and focus on it. Let it consume me.

It takes several long moments, but I feel that familiar draw of energy again. I feel Kaitlyn's energy wrap its tendrils around me, squeezing me tight. Her energy fills me – it's somehow comforting and familiar – and I take a moment to savor it.

With the trace of her energy firmly in my mind, I release it all. I slip off the hood of the truck and head off into the darkness of the night.

I know how to find her.