L'Anima Ladro by InkWeaver (story reading TXT) 📖

since he was such a good artist, I decided to let it go. “It will be really sore for a while.” I shrugged, and when he released me, I continued to prod, ignoring his ‘I’m not sure about this chick’ stare.
“I’ve had plenty of tattoos, Ed, but thanks for the warning.” He nodded obediently, apparently smart enough not to press the matter with a possible regular. With his attitude and skill, I probably would be back, too.
“Well, I guess you have things to do, people to permanently scar.” He laughed at my joke, “So I’ll just leave you and your weapons in peace.” He said a quick goodbye, and I left.
I had to pass through the front of the shop to exit, the part that served as a kind of waiting room. I glanced about at the costumers’ faces as I left. A larger man with a helmet tucked under an arm; a boy in his late teens, carrying a magazine that didn’t look like something his mother would approve of; a younger teenage girl.
I grimaced slightly when the girl’s face appeared; I don’t know why, but I never liked to see girls do this kind of thing to themselves, which was probably because I had done it myself, and had caused the greatest tragedy in my life because of it. I kept walking, though, ignoring the slightly frightened, slightly anxious look on the young girl’s face. As much as I detested the idea of someone doing what I had done, even in some lesser degree, I hated more making someone’s decision for them. It wasn’t always easier to learn for yourself, but it toughened you up to the world, which, in the state it was in now, wasn’t always a bad thing.
I was never bothered any more by muggers, or thieves, because I had toughened up and learned to defend myself without drawing suspicion to my unnatural strength, mastering martial arts and the use of numerous weapons. And I’d been attacked quite a lot before my reputation grew enough for people to know to leave me be, and, I partially regret, have had a few decent meals because of them.
With these memories, my step became more pronounced, more sure, as I decided that whatever this girl decided, it wouldn’t be as bad as if her vision of the world was clouded by whatever fantasy she had veiled over her eyes now. I exited the shop, knowing I wouldn’t lose any sleep over this; I didn’t lose sleep for anything anymore.
I’ve long found out that to survive in the big city, alone, you needed to harden your heart to pleas and mercy, the only things that seem to hold humans back, besides the overconfident greed and dependence on technology. The problem was humans had to strong of a conscience; we wolves had no such issue.
Of course, if I had a few extra coins to spare, I’d give them to one of the numerous beggars that littered the city streets, but I didn’t deprive myself to help others. My wolf had an instinct to keep me alive, and, though I’ve mastered my urges and strength, I couldn’t make myself feel guilty when I saw other people waste away.
I glanced around the area outside of the shop, discreetly smelling the air to check for any werewolves nearby. Of course, a normal Werewolf would be no match for me, but I didn’t really want to cause a scene. Besides, a normal Werewolf was about twice my size, and you can’t explain to a human law enforcer that, when it came to half breeds and werewolves, size wasn’t really an object; I couldn’t explain about werewolves and half breeds at all, to a human.
Speaking of werewolves…I thought as I picked up an unfamiliar scent. If another Werewolf was nearby, I’d need to at least lure him into a place with fewer civilians to see if he morphed. I’d seen a human’s reaction to that once, and it wasn’t pretty.
As the scent blew towards me again, this time stronger, I rejected the idea of it being another wolf. Werewolves didn’t smell of the open flame. Humans couldn’t smell it, but it was there, the smell of smoldering wood and ashes, and it wasn’t a smell that a wolf would don, or be able to don at that matter.
Suddenly a woman bumping into me knocked me out of concentration, and I got out of the doorway. As I rescanned the area, I noticed a particular section were the scent seemed to be coming from. There was only one person in that section, a young man, probably about four or five years older than my forever sixteen year old body, and probably about nineteen or twenty years younger than my almost forty year old mind.
He was taller than most werewolves, and broader about the shoulders. His skin was clearer, I could tell even from here; it lacked the bumps that developed on full-werewolves’ skin from where fur sprouted. I lacked them too, but that was probably because of my Vampire half.
His semi-long, tousled hair held a variety of dark shades, anywhere from black to blue, that shifted under the sun. He had a particularly strong jaw line, and a strait nose that seemed slightly more prominent, and blunted, than a human’s. He looked like he’d been lifting weights since before he could walk. And his chiseled form could put most werewolves to shame.
He had large almond eyes, slanted and surrounded by eyelashes as oddly colored as his hair. The iris was an amber-red color, definitely not human. And another thing? They were staring at me.
When our gazes met, his eyes squinted, as if trying to detect something hard to see about me. I knew he was wondering why I smelled like both wolf and Vampire, yet didn’t look like either. Why I held myself like an alpha, yet shifty enough that one could tell I had no position to worry about risking when contemplating what I’d next steal, or who I’d next kill.
Suddenly his gaze evened out into a friendlier look, he motioned for me to come over there. I frowned; my wolf was telling me something was up. My Vampire instincts immediately told me not to trust him. But neither of my two sides told me not to converse with the handsome stranger. My curiosity outweighed my anxiety. When he motioned again, I obliged.


Chapter 3

I forced my step to match that of the tiny blonde humans I’d seen, hoping that it’d throw him off just a bit more on his hunt for my true nature. I hoped he didn’t already know that he was looking for not only one nature, but two.
The man waved slightly as I drew close, grinning. “Caught your eye, huh?” He laughed mischievously. It took me a second to realize that he was referring to himself.
At least we don’t have to worry about modesty, I thought to myself, it’s always harder to weasel secrets from a modest person than a braggart. I smiled and batted what my friend and I used to call my ‘baby greens’, considering I didn’t have blue eyes.
“Maybe…” I said in a fake singsong voice that I did well. I knew it would appear to him as if I was slightly embarrassed, slightly anxious, and a whole lot of playful. Guys like this one always seemed to go for girls like that.
Thankfully, my ruse worked. He seemed contented with the answer, and apparently pleased with the girl standing before him. Though I was aware that I was probably much stronger than him, I couldn’t help but feel dwarfed by his immense size.
“Aw, no need to be modest, sweetheart. I got girls staring at me all the time.” He said with what he clearly meant to be a southern twang. My wolf ears immediately sensed that it was a false accent, but it was a far better imitation than any human could make.
As much as I despised the way this conversation was going, I couldn’t help but be interested in what the man could be. I was pretty sure I could force it out of him, but that wouldn’t be safe for me, or him, and would most likely make him lie. I’d rather have to put up with his atrocious behavior than be given a lie because I was too impatient. A strong wolf learns patience, and, this time, I was no exception.
“I bet you do. I don’t know a girl who wouldn’t.” I said sweetly. He laughed, and then reached out. At first I was shocked, most creatures, especially if that creature was supernatural, were warned by their natural instinct not to come near werewolves, because of their unpredictability. But he simply tugged on my sleeve.
“Even a girl with tattoos?” He asked, one eyebrow rose, mockingly. I was glad to see he’d dropped the fake accent, but not so much that he’d began to notice the differences between me and other, human girls.
Then an inspiration came to me. I grinned slightly, and said in a dismissive way, “Oh, my ex liked tattoos.” Then, with a fresh burst of confidence I added, “I know someone who’ll remove them, cheap, too.” It held up the peppy girl thing I had been using to mask the real reason for my interest, and was a good explanation.
“You must have liked him a lot,” The young man said, laughing, “You have them everywhere.” I grinned sheepishly, looking at my new tattoo, before I realized that his eyes followed mine. “That one looks new.”
“It does?” I asked, deciding to play dumb. “Well, it’s not sore anymore. Do you like it?” I gave him a bright smile, which was, thankfully, returned.
“It’s cool. Wolf claws. Kind of tough for you though. I’d think you to be more of a flower person.” He chuckled, gesturing to my small, even for a human, form. It was then that my wolf made a grave mistake.
“Uh, I hate flowers.” I put my hand over my mouth, hoping he’d misunderstood. He just laughed and pulled my hand away. He looked mischievous, like a child about to hatch a plan.
“Oh, I got myself a little tomboy then, don’t I?” He put a gigantic arm over my shoulder, and steered me towards the alley. If I’d not been undercover, I would have slugged him right then and there for even thinking that he ‘got himself a little tomboy’. Wolves have major territory issues, and I didn’t like anybody taking mine, or even attempting to. What he said next put all of my territory thoughts out of my head, “What do you say we go for a little walk.”
I smiled sweetly, “Okay.” I let the smile fall from my face as he walked me towards the dark, secluded alley; I had more import things to worry about. Not the least of which was how I was going to get him to confess his nature.
“Are you okay?” He asked, though he sounded slightly unconcerned. He probably meant to sound sincere, but it takes a lot more to con a wolf’s ear than a human’s.
I walked quietly for a moment, thinking, when I came up with the perfect excuse. “Isn’t there muggers in there?” I asked, trying my best to sound scared. It was kind of hard to sound as frightened as I did, but I think he believed me. I had a hard time not laughing though; if I was in the alleys, every mugger would be on the streets, avoiding me.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, ain’t nobody going to get to you while I’m here.”