Behind the Mask
Treehawke Flash Fiction #1
Dalton Smith ducked into the nearest alley, pivoting to plant his shoulders against the brick wall. Humid air blanketed him, and his shirt clung to his ribs.
Mallory crowded against him in spite of the heat, her fingers clasping his in a vise-like grip. “How did that merchant know you’re a Speaker-with-the-dead?”
Dalton shook his head. “I have no idea. That’s only the second time in — what, eight months?” He wiped sweat from his forehead. “I’ve never seen the guy before, but it’s like he sensed something …”
Mallory stole a glance farther down the shadowy alley. “Apparently it’s not just Asukan eyesight that’s super-sensitive.” She shivered despite the stifling humidity. “A dark alley isn’t much of a hiding place.”
Dalton grimaced. She was right; Asukans possessed night vision far superior to theirs. “Our best bet is to mingle with the crowd and hope we blend in.”
Mallory said nothing; she didn’t have to — his strategy was threadbare and he knew it. He edged forward, sneaking a peek around the corner. The street, restricted to pedestrian-only traffic during the weekend, was filling up with people bound for home after a bustling evening at Wharfside Market.
The sun had all but disappeared, stranding a few pink-tinged clouds in the encroaching twilight. Streetlights popped into buzzing life as the crowds swelled. Dalton tightened his grip on Mallory’s hand. “Now’s as good a time as any. Try to act natural. We’re just a nice young couple enjoying a typical Stoney Cove weekend.”
“Acting natural is my superpower; it’s my husband who’s paranoid.” Mallory squeezed his hand, one corner of her mouth lifting in a half-smile. She leaned forward to peer past him. “And yet tonight, out of nowhere, an Asukan merchant recognizes you as a Speaker.”
“Not so loud,” Dalton replied, only half-joking.
Fortunately, these encounters were rare, but he still found them nerve-wracking. He’d worked hard to distance himself … No, he couldn’t let his mind wander. Protecting Mallory was the priority — he’d promised himself. And her.
Mallory nudged him. A fine sheen of sweat covered her face and her eyes appeared larger than normal. “This alley creeps me out. What if he’s behind us?”
“He’s not,” Dalton replied without hesitation, stealing a quick glance over his shoulder to be sure. He wondered if Mallory could hear his heart pounding. “Let’s go.”
Hand-in-hard, they eased into the throng of pedestrians. The sweaty, chattering crowd carried them along, and Dalton gave silent thanks for the anonymity the crowd provided.
Anonymity was his superpower. At least, it had been …
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