CHAPTER 4
Victoire Jumped and landed in yet another cave. She groaned. This guy liked his caves, apparently.
"What is with you and caves?" she asked Griffin who was rifling through a cabinet, no doubt for a first aid kit. He pulled out a well-worn tin box and walked towards the old dilapidated orange couch.
"I already told you! It's called a lair!" he exclaimed, looked annoyed.
"Forgive my mistake," Victoire rolled her eyes at his prickly demeanour, "My powers of observation must have been addled for me to make such a grave error."
Victoire looked around. In a corner sat a table with one chair near a small fridge. She could hear the hum of a generator that powered the lights hanging from hooks in the ceiling. She also took in a couch in front of an entertainment unit of sorts: a TV, a stack of video games and an Xbox were rested on various cinder blocks in lieu of a proper shelving unit. How like a man, she smiled to herself, no sense of taste whatsoever. At least she picked locations with style. Lastly, she saw a cot with rumpled sheets shoved in a corner with a pile of clothing nearby. She also noted how charred most of the furnishings were. It looked as if there had been a fire. There was still the smell of smoke in the air. She walked over to one of the walls covered in sketches and pictures that looked to be from surveillance tapes. She saw that most were Paladins, judging by the way they were dressed: the bland and tasteless beige trench coat. Some had red X's across them, most likely marking them as dead. She saw a good deal of Roland, feeling anger at seeing his face, and then noticed a sketched face that looked quite like her own. Griffin looked up from the couch where he was stitching a small cut on his forearm. He winced from embarrassment as he saw her look at the numerous pictures of herself that he had drawn. She walked back over to the couch and sat down, getting a sterile wipe out of the well-stocked kit.
"You're good at sketching," she told him.
"Mhmm," Griffin kept his answer noncommittal, keeping his eyes on his finished stitches.
"Any reason why there are so many of me?" she asked rather calmly. Placing two fingers under his chin she turned his face to meet hers as she wiped the bloody gash on his temple, preparing to cover it with a bandage. Griffin looked everywhere but at her face. He fidgeted, knowing why he had so many of her. What could he tell her? The angles of your face are fascinating? I think you're beautiful? She'd probably knee him in the crotch for something like that.
He shrugged in response. "I didn't know if you were an enemy or not," he lied. She seemed to accept the answer. Victoire figured it made sense even though the fact that he must have known she was a Jumper struck her as a discrepancy. Then she thought of how formidable of a weapon a Jumper would be for the Paladins. Of course, they would soon kill the Jumper once they had served their purpose but still...
"Do you have any shorts I could borrow?" she asked Griffin as she shrugged off her jacket. Griffin stared at her torso. It was clad in a plain black leather corset. Victoire caught him staring and rolled her eyes.
"You wear a corset to fight?" Griffin asked incredulously.
"In my defence, this is not for fashion or vanity. This baby is made of tough leather and steel and it keeps everything in, if you catch my drift. It's way better than just a t-shirt," she justified, looking at Griffin's black tee full of rips and tears. She was starting to feel self conscious: a rare event for her. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "I asked if you had any shorts I could borrow!" Griffin shook himself mentally. He tried to quell his instinctual lust. He tore his eyes away from her and hurried over to a pile of clothes, grateful for the chance to shake off the heat he felt. He pulled a pair of boxers out of the pile. They would have to do. He tossed them to her.
"Boxers?" she asked, holding them up.
"At least they're clean," he shrugged.
"And I took you for more of a boxer briefs kind of guy," she mused with a smirk.
"You thought about what kind of underwear I wear?" he smirked right back having caught her. She cursed herself mentally. Busted.
Like Griffin, she just shrugged, "Don't flatter yourself. Turn around," she commanded. He did as he was told and heard the sound of her pants drop to the floor. Holy Hell, this was worse than Paladin torture! He hadn't had any kind of physical relationship with anyone for far too long and being stuck with an extremely attractive female in a relatively enclosed space for any length of time was not helping his case.
"Okay, I'm done." He turned around to see her sitting on the couch, stitching up her calf with difficulty.
"Here," he indicated for her to lay down on her stomach so that he could stitch the back of her leg properly. She complied, resting her head on her folded arms, watching him work.
"You've got a pretty nasty cut on your shoulder too. You'll never be able to reach and I think it's deep enough to need stitches. Want me to get it?" he offered.
She inspected the stitches on her calf and assessed that they were well executed. "Sure, sew me up," she replied. She sat up and shifted her position so as to allow him better access to her injury. He swept her hair over her shoulder, revelling in the feel of his fingers brushing against her somewhat messy hair. How he wanted to see it messed up by some means other than fighting… Focus, Griffin! he scolded himself. She felt the needle pierce her skin for the first stitch just as she felt Griffin's breath on the exposed part of her back. The needle hadn't hurt at all but his breath was a whole other story. She sucked in a sharp, involuntary gasp through clenched teeth. She winced at the sound, glad Griffin couldn't see her face which she was sure was bright red.
"Sorry, I kind of poked you hard with the needle on that first one," Griffin apologized awkwardly.
"No worries, I can take it," she covered, thankful for the excuse provided by the needle. She could feel the heat of his hands as he worked on the wound and tired to concentrate on the rock formation she was facing. The awkward silence that ensued was palpable, both acutely aware of each contact of skin on skin.
"There. Done," he announced as he finished off the last stitch. Victoire turned around and saw that Griffin didn't seem to need any more ministering. She looked down at her hands and was momentarily surprised at finding them covered in blood before remembering why.
"How about a towel and some water?" she asked, holding up her hands to show her intent.
"Sure thing," he replied disappearing into the depths of the lair and coming back with an already grubby towel and a bowl of water.
"Where are we anyway?" Victoire asked as she dipped her hands in the bowl and watched the water turn crimson.
"The Sahara," Griffin answered.
"And you found a cave in the middle of the desert? Don't you find that a little conspicuous?"
Griffin shrugged, "They haven't killed me yet."
Victoire nodded in agreement and dipped a corner of the towel in the bowl and started wiping her face. The towel soon became saturated with red; both blood and chunks of flesh.
"Wow. I really sliced that guy, didn't I?" she smiled proudly showing Griffin the towel.
Griffin looked at her a little worriedly. Should she really be that happy about it? But who was he to judge? He had done some pretty nasty things as well. He noticed that she had been starting to relax, sitting cross-legged on the couch; head leaned back with her eyes closed.
He went over to sit next to her but not before turning on his Xbox and inserting the latest version of Call of Duty: anything to keep him distracted from the woman on his couch.
Victoire opened her eyes to see Griffin selecting his saved game. She used the opportunity to study him. He had taken off his jacket and his shoes and socks and was viciously punching buttons on his controller. He could have been any ordinary twenty-something gamer just chilling in his living room. It was odd how life went. She supposed it was how one kept one's sanity: by pretending life was normal. She didn't have a hobby. She had tried becoming an avid reader. That was too boring. She tried snowboarding but that turned out to be hazardous to the others on the hill. She had experimented with hunting and while she found she rather liked it, it didn't give her that same rush as killing a Paladin. She hated herself for it. She knew people – apart from psychopaths – would never kill another human being out of pleasure and if they did, it would have left them feeling guilty. Then again she knew she would never be normal. Maybe she was a psychopath.
"Do you enjoy killing?" Victoire asked, watching a Griffin killed an enemy on screen.
"It lets me live to fight another day," he stated.
"I know, but do you like it?"
"Never really thought about it," he said. She could tell he was lying. Every Jumper has had to come to terms with their lifestyle, be it killing or running away.
"I think there's something wrong with me," she said matter-of-factly, staring up at the stalactites hanging from the ceiling. "I enjoy the rush of adrenaline, the look of the life leaving their eyes, torturing them until they beg for death…" she trailed off looking down at her hands that were wringing themselves of their own accord.
She looked over as no answer came from Griffin; he was still staring at the screen, mashing buttons. She grew annoyed. She was trying to have a conversation with him and he was just playing a stupid game.
Griffin realized the vulnerability of her current situation, putting that statement out there like she had. Don't look at her, he told himself over and over. DO NOT look at her! He concentrated harder than ever before while killing enemy soldiers.
"I'm trying to talk to you here!" she growled at him, jumping to her feet and walking back over to the board full of Paladins. "It wouldn't hurt you to talk to someone once in a while you damn hermit." Her anger had flared up despite her wanting it to. She had just shared something personal about herself and he had ignored her, she knew he wouldn't care but it hurt all the same. Anger let her cope with the sting of rejection that she felt. She was even angrier because she knew she had no reason to feel rejected: it's not like he had asked her to share anything, after all. She had stupidly let her guard down for a brief moment and look where that had gotten her. It was always the same story.
Despite Griffin's better judgment, his fingers moved of their own accord as he pushed pause on his controller and he got up to face her. He couldn't help thinking of how sexy she was when she was angry.
"Why do we have to talk about anything at all?" he growled back, "We were doing just fine here until you opened your mouth."
Insulted and angry that she couldn't think of a good retort so she ended up using, "Fuck you."
"You'd like that wouldn't you," he replied with 'snarky' being his default setting.
Actually, she probably would. She made a disgusted sound. "As if you'd be any good," she smirked, getting closer to him deliberately slowly.
"But I'd bet you're dying to find out," he taunted.
She came as close as she dared and hooked a hand behind his neck and pulled his face close to hers. She put her mouth next to his ear, "Please. You wouldn't be able to keep up."
She quickly Jumped to pick up her jacket and Jumped away to Melbourne before she did something she was going to regret like taking Griffin right then and there. She slipped on her leather jacket and looked down to see she was still in the boxers Griffin had let her borrow. She had left her pants in his damned cave. Shit, she thought, I loved those pants.
Griffin quickly exhaled and looked at the ceiling of his lair. Why did she have to go and mess everything up? They were having a nice relaxing moment for a bit. This was why he worked alone. Women were only a distraction. You wouldn't be able to keep up, she had said. He ran a hand over his eyes. She was such a tease and damn but he liked it! He opened his eyes and saw her pants lying over the back of his couch. He ignored them and decided that he needed some action of the non-Paladin variety. It was most likely spring break in America so Griffin decided to head to Florida. There would be plenty of willing ladies there.
Victoire was out looking for a bit of fun. While she mostly enjoyed exterminating Paladins, this was one of the things she tolerated best and it was long overdue. Before heading to the clubs of Melbourne, she opted to Jump to her current "residence" in Prague – a house owned by a wealthy family who were on vacation for several weeks cruising the Mediterranean (she did her research) – and found another pair of black pants. She chucked the boxers onto the bed and headed back to find a good club back in Australia.
She found her favourite club that played some great metal. Exactly what she wanted to hear. She Jumped into a stall in the ladies room to avoid paying the entry fee, hoping it wouldn't be occupied. Wouldn't that be embarrassing? She thought wryly. She didn't much care at this point. Griffin frustrated her on so many levels. She walked out of the ladies room and scanned the pulsing mass of people on the dance floor. She walked over to the bar to get something strong. She downed her Vodka rocks quickly and head to the dance floor to grind with quite a few guys, losing herself in the angry guitar riffs, pulsing bass and pounding drums. After dancing with the fifth one, she realized that they all had something in common with Griffin: one had the messy hair, one had the leather jacket, and one was actually British. Go figure. Finally she thought Why resist it? and picked up an Australian who looked uncannily similar to the one she really wanted and left with him on her arm.
Griffin woke up and looked at the girl asleep next to him in her hotel room. She had been alright but was willing to bet she was nothing like the way he imagined Victoire would be. This girl bore a physical resemblance to his Jumper which was why he picked her in the first place. He had convinced himself that he was only physically attracted to Victoire: he had always liked dark features. He quietly got up and got dressed and Jumped back to his lair still feeling lonely. This little episode had helped nothing at all. He still wanted Her. He raked a hand through his hair and flopped onto the chair at his work station. Maybe it was time for a little bit of good old-fashioned Paladin hunting.
