Blind Faith

Flynn

The wail of police sirens gave me just enough time to dash off into the inky shadows of a barely familiar city at night. I took random turns and used the first fire escape I saw to clamber up a convenient building, keeping close to the bricks to avoid the streetlights. I had to jump to get up on the roof, but I supposed my height was one of the reasons my lady chose me for this work. Sirens screamed on the street below me, but no one was looking up as I jumped and scampered between the buildings, doubling back to the place where I was spotted in the first place.

Maybe that was stupid. I ignored that. Nothing about being arrested really scared me. My shark wouldn't let me sit in jail for long. Failing my goddess wouldn't be remedied by some clever hacking or Owen's charming smile.

I dropped back down to an abandoned street blocks away from where I left the cops to find my way back to the wall I needed to paint. My goddess only occasionally demanded that I paint any specific wall. She was a lot more likely to send me to a city or a region and leave the rest in my hands, but even that was rare. She was generally satisfied as long as I spread her sigils far and wide on my travels with my beloved Shark. This particular place, though, was implanted in my brain along with a time limit.

Tonight, zealot. You must spread my word tonight.

So, I was back in the very exposed spot where I started. I got to work immediately. The sigil was the hard part. I developed each one individually to match the piece I would paint on top. The lines had to be exact. The language of magic had very specific rules. Once I was satisfied with the sigil, I dropped that intense focus to let myself drown in the act of worship.

Shake, rattle, spray. Stencils and freehand and, on occasion, my hands smearing the paint directly until I filled that wall with twisted neon trees. The air grew heavier as my work summoned my goddess's attention. She liked to watch me paint. I stood back to admire the bright forest for a moment before I lay my hand in the middle to awaken it.

A barely audible, heartbeat-like pulse squeezed the air around me as I tapped into the invisible force I carried with me like a cloying but disquieting perfume. The fresh paint shifted, slowly at first, then steadily rising and falling like the breath of a great beast awakening within the bricks.

My nose was bleeding when I pulled my hand away. I ignored that to watch the painting settle into itself, growing still but aching with unspent potential.

"Glory," I whispered. The heavy presence around me lightened, the air was briefly soft and warm. Approval. My goddess was satisfied. The air returned to normal and I turned back towards the temporary place that housed the man who was my home.

Owen never booked anything unsavory for us if he could avoid it. There were times we lived in motels or run down temporary apartments, but he made it clear that offering me what he considered a substandard place to sleep was only something he did when there were no other options. No amount of me pointing out that I had largely lived on the street over the past decade or so would change his mind on that.

This place was a cute little townhouse. We rented it furnished with shabby but comfortable furniture. I really liked this one. It was cozy and sweet and made me feel like Owen and I were briefly cosplaying as a regular suburban couple.

I found my man sitting on the floor in front of the couch with his laptop balanced on his knees and his massive headphones nestled among the chaotic loveliness of his curls. My heart was warmed seeing him there, focused and working on whatever new nastiness he had contracted himself to. I hopped over the back of the couch to sit behind him and leaned down to kiss the top of his head.

Owen chuckled and pulled the headphones off.

"Hey there, Bunny," he said. "You look happy. Success?"

"She's very pleased with me," I confirmed.

Owen hadn't balked at all when I explained the deal I'd made to stay with him after that first night. I tried to explain how she could compel me. I stressed that a deal with a mortal meant nothing, she could always change her mind. I needed him to know that my sobbing face might be the last thing he saw as my own unwilling fists beat the life out of him. He had just shrugged as he ran his hands down my trembling arms and murmured soft, soothing reassurances to me until I stopped shaking.

Owen closed his laptop and stood up to stretch. A chorus of popping joints suggested that he hadn't moved in hours. I watched a sliver of his pale skin appear at his midriff as the movement raised his shirt hem above the loose lounge pants he wore low on his hips.

"Are those my sweats?" I chuckled. "They're way too big for you, Shark."

Owen's eyes cut to me, echoing the hungry nature suggested by his nickname. He grinned and pulled lightly on the elastic waistband.

"You want them back?" he asked.

"I definitely want you to take them off," I purred and tugged on the drawstring.

"You smell like paint and evading arrest. Go shower," Owen teased me and shoved me towards the bathroom. "I have work to finish."

Owen eventually joined me while I was zoning out in the spray of the water. I grinned in surprise and crushed him to my chest.

"Thought you were too busy?" I murmured.

"No, Bunny, I just had to finish that up," he chuckled. "You know I always have time for my mad artist. Tell me about what you painted tonight."

Owen listened to me talk as he gently cleaned paint from under my fingernails until my hands looked indistinguishable from anyone else's. Well, except for the sigils carved into my palms. I usually kept those hidden with my very stylish fingerless gloves. He nodded along, asking clarifying questions when I didn't explain something well or when he was curious about something. Eventually, he led me out of the shower and started to dry us both off.

I wasn't really sure why I'd given myself over so completely to letting him coddle me like that, but I couldn't deny how amazing it felt to be his treasure. Owen delighted in taking care of me enough that I'd given up on any pretense of running my own life over the two years we had spent skipping around the globe chasing his bounties and my shrines. I found us in the bed before I really realized it, with Owen sitting up against the headboard and my head in his lap as I chattered.

Talking that much was different for me. I knew exactly how strange I could be. Not many guys found it charming after they got me in bed. Owen loved my ramblings, though, and he encouraged me to explain my thoughts at length. He was tracing the symbols scarred into my palms and my tattoos as I spoke. I eventually trailed off and just enjoyed the way he held me.

"Have you finished up everything you need to do here? I should be good to set up a meeting for the hand off and get out of here in a few days," he said.

"An in-person hand off?" I said warily.

"Yep," Owen confirmed. "You can come if you're worried, but you'll have to be careful. No names allowed on this one."

"I hate it when you hand off in person," I sighed. "Can I just do it? You said no names, I can pretend I'm the hacker."

"And if they ask questions?" Owen reminded him. "It's fine. They need this shit. I'll deadswitch it."

"Oof, I'll go be a dog," I said, meaning I would act as his bodyguard. There were plenty of reasons why Owen was actually the more dangerous one of the two of us, but, at first glance, I was the more intimidating figure. I used that to my advantage or Owen's protection when I could.

"Hmm, well, good news is you can pick wherever you want to go next. I need to bake us some new identities before I pick up another job," Owen said. "Where do you want to go, baby? You need a nice retreat to draw up some new pieces or a new city to decorate?"

"Let's go somewhere quiet," I said. "Somewhere in the woods. I want to be a rabbit for a while. I need to be quiet and listen."

"What are you when you're in the city, Bun?" Owen asked fondly. He often asked me questions like that. Those moments when he could just let the conversation die instead of prompting me to continue talking were the ones that had really pulled me out of my shell. They proved that he really, truly wanted to know what I had to say.

"A pigeon," I said after thinking about it for a while. "I'm feral when I'm in a place like this, not wild."

"What about me? Am I something different when we move around?"

"No, you're always a shark," I said and shrugged. Owen laughed and cuddled into the sheets to wrap my arms around himself for sleep.

Owen

An in-person hand off was basically Flynn's worst case scenario. Despite what he thought, I was well aware of my small stature and less than intimidating, delicate features. He didn't like the idea of me bluffing my way through these encounters alone no matter how often I pointed out that I'd been doing exactly that for years before we met.

Flynn procured a car and drove us out to what had to be an abandoned shipping yard. I leaned down to look up at the stacks of old shipping containers that teetered unnervingly above us. He was silent on the drive and didn't say anything as he turned off the stolen car and waited.

"It's going to be fine," I assured him. "I have it handled. If it goes south, you can show off for me."

"I'd really rather not," Flynn said sourly.

"Bunny, it's ok. I've got this. You can wait here and be my getaway driver," I suggested. He adamantly shook his head and yanked the car door open. I got out as well and watched him flip the switch, going from my sweet, vulnerable, soft boy to the intimidating, stoic street punk he pretended to be. It was always impressive to see the mask he had constructed to protect himself, but I hated knowing why he could do that. The world wasn't as kind and soft as my artist deserved.

He followed me through the valley of decaying shipping containers until we reached the two men who waited for us at the end of the maze. One snorted derisively when he saw me.

"Did you hire a teenage girl?" he snickered.

"Hey, sweetheart, is that your big brother?" the other laughed. "Is he teaching you to drive?"

I felt Flynn stiffen up behind me and heard a soft growl from him. I scoffed and held up an external hard drive.

"Did you want this or are you more interested in hitting on me?" I asked.

Both men grumbled, but one approached to take the drive. I stared him in the eye as I handed it over.

"You'll get the key to unlock it when the two of us get safely out of this kill box."

"You expect me to pay you without the key?" the man asked coldly.

"Nope," I shrugged and turned back the way we came from. "Wire the money when you get the key. That drive won't survive if you don't pay me within five minutes of receiving the key. So it's all up to you."

The man's eyes narrowed suspiciously on the bit of plastic in his hand.

"You handing me explosives wasn't part of the deal," he growled.

"It won't do anything if you hold up your end," I laughed and motioned for Flynn to follow me. "Call it insurance. I'm obviously too pretty to rely on the kindness of strangers."

The man who had asked if I was a teenager shifted one hand to reach under his jacket. Flynn stepped in front of me with a snarl. He held up his left hand to show them the sigil scarred into his palm. Both men hesitated.

"Hands up," Flynn growled in an uncharacteristically gruff tone.

"Could be fake," the more talkative man suggested to his partner.

"Do you want to risk that?" the other replied.

"You think you can kill both of us with some little trick?" the talkative man asked.

"I'll start with you," Flynn replied. "Will you care after that?"

The air got heavy around us, a sure sign of Flynn calling on the blessings of his devotion. That surprised me. Those sigils on his palms weren't capable of any type of offensive attack as far as I knew. Flynn kept his dark, unnerving eyes on the two men until they both angrily raised their hands up.

We backed out of that dead end and made our way as quickly as we could to the exit where the car Flynn had stolen waited for us. Flynn slipped into the driver's seat and coaxed the engine back to life. I was giggling in the passenger seat as I pulled out my phone and started typing away. I loved it when a plan came together.

There was tense silence from Flynn as I made good on his promise to send the key. I waited a few minutes until I saw the payment confirmation, then tucked my phone back into my pocket with a grin.

"I take it that drive isn't going to explode now?" Flynn broke his silence.

"It wasn't ever going to explode," I said with a shrug. "I was bluffing. They pissed me off."

"You were going to walk in there and bluff all alone? Are you even armed?" Flynn said softly. "Shark, why do you take risks like that?"

"Why do you run from cops all over the planet? Why did I have to bust you out of custody in Cairo last month?" I countered. "Because this is what I do and the risk is part of it."

"I don't like it," Flynn mumbled.

"I know, Bunny," I replied and squeezed Flynn's knee. "I'm sorry. It's done now. Do you want to go to the mountains next? I have a perfect place out there."

"Which mountains?" Flynn asked.

"Smokies," I answered like I was offering him his favorite cake.

"Oooh, yes," Flynn answered happily. "I like the Smokies."

"I know you do," I chuckled.

Flynn

My Shark drove us out on winding, unmarked roads through the mountains. I excitedly watched the forest thicken around us until Owen turned off on a dusty dirt driveway blocked by a wide, aluminum gate. I didn't wait to be asked to hop out and open the gate to a delightful chorus of Owen's fond chuckle. Trees reached for each other over the twisted, pitted drive. Branches intertwined by decades of growth formed a speckled canopy of light and shadow for the little crossover to pass through until our destination peeked through the trees.

"Oh, Shark!" I gasped. "Look at the view!"

The little A-frame cabin sat on the side of the mountain, overlooking a vast, untouched valley beyond. Thick, verdant acres spanned around us, whispering softly of ancient magic and hidden holy secrets. The horizon was all mounded green shadows set against an improbably perfect sky inching slowly towards a late summer sunset.

Owen looked pleased with himself as he chuckled in the driver's seat.

"It's not just a view," he said. "There's two hundred acres of nothing out there for you to sit and listen to your heart's content."

"It's perfect," I whispered.

"You haven't even seen inside the cabin," Owen pointed out.

"The inside of the cabin could be lava and this place would still be perfect. I don't need much," I said, but I was distracted by the way the setting sun turned the valley into a blaze of fiery light.

"Come on. Inside, Rabbit," Owen chuckled.

The cabin wasn't a great lodge or a luxurious chalet. It wasn't anything unattainable, but I was speechless. The inside of the cabin boasted a single large room with the far wall made entirely of windows overlooking that view that had so captivated me outside. The adjacent wall offered a stone fireplace nearly as commanding as the windows. The front door opened into a practical little kitchen with dated, avocado colored appliances and country blue cabinets. A set of stairs lead upstairs to the lofted bedroom and bath. I sat on my knees on the floor, nearly pressed to the glass, watching the sun bask in its own flames as the velvet of night rushed in to drown the heat.

I didn't realize Owen had been moving our only possessions, our two backpacks and his duffle bag of clothes, inside along with the groceries we had picked up on the way. I dragged myself off the floor to help him tuck the food away and find the utensils we needed to prepare a simple meal.

"How did you find this place?" I asked him. We settled on pasta that night. I found a pot big enough to boil water and set it on the battered stove. Owen started scrubbing the pot he had selected to heat up the jar of marinara. I glanced at the one I hadn't bothered to clean. It looked ok. The boiling water would sanitize it, right?

"I won it a few years ago," he answered. He didn't look up from washing out whatever he found in that old pot.

"You... you won it?" I asked in confusion, looking around. "This is yours?"

"Yeah," he said, still distracted by his task. "I've only been out here once, though."

"Wait, hold on," I grabbed his arm to make him stop and look at me. He looked up with a wary look on his face at my sudden turn in mood. "You own a cabin? This cabin? And all this land? This is

yours

?"

"I'm confused," he said slowly. "Are you upset about this? I can get rid of it?"

"No, no, I, um," I shook my head and tried to figure out how normal people would say what was tumbling around in my head. I gave up on that and just talked. "I've never had one. A home, I mean. I always lived in temporary places as a kid and, um, you know how I lived after I aged out. I didn't realize it could ever be an option. You know, with what you and I do? I thought you were a nomad like me. I didn't think we could have a home."

Owen relaxed a little and pulled me over to sit on the couch. He held my hands as he spoke again.

"I have a few places in different countries," he said slowly. "They're safehouses. Places I acquired off the record in one way or another. Places I can retreat to if I need to hide. I never really thought of any of them as a home. Do you want this one, Bunny? It can be yours. Or you can pick a place somewhere else. You can have a home if you want it. All you ever had to do was tell me."

"I don't want a home all alone," I said doubtfully. The thought of living in that cabin was tempting, but I didn't want it if Owen wouldn't be with me.

"I can't stay here all the time," he agreed with what I was implying. "But you can't, either, right? We can spend our downtime here. When you need to listen and I need to go offline?"

"That's a lot to just give me," I pointed out, but my voice was shaking at the idea. "You already give me so much."

"I'll give you everything I have right now if you'll stop saying that," Owen sighed. "I won it, Bunny. Some of the other bounty hunters I know used to set up challenges where we wagered useful shit. Safehouses, clean IDs, weapons caches for the wetwork guys, that kind of thing. I won this in one of those. I didn't even pay for it."

"Can I try to win it?" I suggested. Owen grinned at me.

"You think you can crash a darknet market? That's how I got this," he chuckled. "I cleaned out the escrow and ransomed their seller info. Can you do that?"

"I definitely can't do that," I laughed. "I bet I can find you in the woods, though. We go out tomorrow, you get a half hour head start in any direction you want, and I'll catch up."

Owen cocked his head to one side. His smirk was charmed but a little confused, like it always was when I said strange things.

"Are you secretly some kind of Bear Grylls survivalist?" he asked me.

"No, but I don't need to be," I told him. "What do you think?"

"And if we get lost in the woods? I'm not outdoorsy," he laughed. "I want to die in a way that makes the papers, Bunny. Exposure is a terrible, quiet way to go."

"I can't get lost," I said. I didn't elaborate and he didn't question it. Owen had seen me wander strange cities without ever losing my way for the entire time he knew me. "And it's summer. You won't die of exposure. Maybe heat exhaustion, but not exposure. You have that fancy satellite GPS thing, right? Take that if you're worried."

"Ok," he chuckled. "You can try to win it tomorrow. But if I die out there, I'm going to haunt you. Can you be haunted?"