Bloody

I heard Mark behind me walking into the kitchen at around nine while I was chewing my nails off with worry. "When did you get up?" He asked when he saw me.

"Get?" I repeated. "I've been up all night."

It took a little for Mark to respond. He probably thought it was Emily. "Where's Sean?" He said pleasantly.

"Gone."

The footsteps headed for the coffee pot halted. "Gone?"

"Gone, and Anti with him." I finally stood up and turned around to look at him.

He looked terrified, and his gaze kept flicking back to my pocket, where my knife was. "What do you mean, gone?" He asked, and his tone was suspicious.

If it wasn't for Emily, I would've laughed. He thinks I killed them, I thought.

"I mean I was waiting for Anti like I always do at midnight so we could practice, and he didn't show up. So I thought, okay, Sean's having a late night. It got to four am and I got frustrated, so I walked into their room and they were gone, the window was open, and you were sound asleep on your fucking air mattress." I sighed and walked to a cupboard to grab breakfast. "Then I got back to Emily's room, and she was asleep."

"Well, yeah, if it was four in the morning, I should hope so."

"You don't understand. She wasn't waking up. I slipped back in, and she was just fast asleep. I tried to wake her up to tell her Sean was gone. I tried to get her to get food. She just slept. She's not waking up."

Mark seemed to be starting to panic. "You don't think she's, um…"

I gave him an exasperated look. "Mark, I would know if she was dead. She's just not waking up."

It was true. Emily was curled up, soundly asleep in her usual spot behind my ear. She just sat there, not moving no matter what I did. And it was freaking me out. I knew she was alive. If she was dead, the body would be too. But she just wouldn't wake up.

Mark gave me a frown. "What do you mean, you were waiting for Anti?"

"Yeah, I have a little trick where I leave Emily behind while she's asleep. I taught it to Anti. The two of us don't need sleep, so we practice knife-fighting."

"What if you hurt each other?"

"Their host would feel it, but it would heal fast."

"Host?"

"I'm Emily's alternate. She's my host. It's just the terminology I've taught myself and her."

"Makes it sound like you're a parasite."

"For all we know, I could be."

"Well, that's weird."

"Just a little. Now, this has been a fun discussion, but we have another matter to handle. Sean's gone."

"How do we know he didn't just go to the store?"

"Through the window? For five hours?"

"You sure it was through the window?"

"I was out in the hall since eleven. He didn't leave his room. You stay and see if he gets back, I'm gonna go track him down." I started towards my room.

"I'm coming too," he yelled after me.

I whirled to face him. "Mark, you'll slow me down. You can't fight, you can't walk quietly, you can't even threaten people."

"Says who?"

"I made an outrageous threat and nicked you on the arm, and you let me go. The kind of person who could help me would have called my bluff, taken my knife, and nicked me. You're pathetic." I knew it was harsh, but Mark had to stay. Emily like Mark, and she'd never forgive me for getting him killed. When she wakes up.

Mark followed me to my room, and his eyes widened when I brought out my knife crate from under the bed. Knives of all sizes with myriad uses were carefully organized in rows. I looked at them for a moment, proud as a mother. Then I grabbed a knife in a light green sheath.

"Don't you already carry a knife?"

"What, this thing?" I pulled my little cream-colored around-the-house knife out of my pocket and tossed it to him. "Basic switchblade. Fast, easy, and silent to draw. To small for open combat. Not a long enough blade to fight off multiple people. Great for close combat if one person jumps you. Otherwise next to useless. This is a blade you want for a fight." I showed him the knife I'd taken out of the crate. "Not nearly as fast to draw, so not your best bet if you're caught by surprise. Longer, heavier blade than the switch. Best if you're against one person in open combat, but can be used for multiple. A little clumsier in close combat. That's the standard blade. Or, as my instructor calls it, the 'fight knife'."

"What about that one?" Mark asked, handing me back my switch and pointing at a longer one in a blue sheath.

"That's technically the 'long blade', but I prefer to call it the 'long-ass knife'. It's my personal favorite. Longer, thinner blade, meant for fast swings. Useless for close combat; you're more likely to skewer yourself than your opponent. But the longer blade is great for open combat, especially with multiple opponents." I frowned as I realized I might want it. I took it out of the crate, then closed it and stashed it back under the bed.

"Why do you need the knives?" Mark asked, trailing me out of the room.

"You're forgetting Anti," I replied. "If someone managed to get him and Sean out, either they were sneaky enough to get to the window while making zero noise and surprised Anti,, or they were good enough fighters to beat him into submission. Either way, bad news."

"Oh, I see."

Returning to the living room, I grabbed the jacket draped over the arm of the couch, which was a little longer than a normal jacket and colored a green so dark it was almost black. Hidden on the inside of the jacket, where the jacket's bulk could disguise them, were three sheath rings. I tucked the two knives into the first two rings and put on the jacket. I put the switch into the pocket, where it was more convenient. Just in case.

"Right, I'll be back before dark," I said, pulling open the door and habitually checking to make sure I had my key. I did.

"You're not leaving without me," Mark said, trying to wedge his foot in the door as I closed it.

I opened the door, punched him in the face and said, "Yes, I am. You stay. If you see Sean, tell him I'm looking for him, but don't send him after me. See ya."

With that, I closed the door and walked down the hall to the elevator.