Hair///Trigger

I was hoping to avoid a threat, but that guy ahead of me is clearly carrying a gun. It's tucked away, but Feng taught me enough to have an eye for these things. Furthermore, why would someone be out here in these woods at this hour?

Still, I need her to confirm. As we planned, I rattle the rocks in my pocket. The rustling in the trees above and around me signal that she's setting the trap.

Janine is jumping from tree to tree at a distance far enough that a human can't hear her, but should alert this guy if he's a demon. It's been several seconds, and no reaction. This guy is human—

Damn. He reacted. I ready my pistol, just in case. First, I throw my rocks at him to draw his attention from her.

"What the f.u.c.k!? Who's there!? Don't think I didn't see that! Come out!"

Next is up to Janine.

He instantly ducked for cover behind a tree, but that gun is still pointed in my general direction. I haven't moved from the bush I'm in, so as long as I don't move, he shouldn't spot me. It's going to be over in the next few seconds, anyway. He's looking the wrong way.

In the next instant, a blur dives towards him, splashing his blood against the tree behind her. She instantly jumps back up and listens for any other threats.

She gives the signal. All clear.

"So, this guy had some useful stuff on him. We should be able to listen in on any enemies through this radio. Plus his ammo fits. Can't use the mags, but having extra rounds is never a bad thing." She says, checking the body.

"And uh. Sorry you had to see that. You ok?"

She can't keep worrying about silly things like that. I can't afford to distract her or make her hesitate—she needs to remember this is her life on the line, too.

"Janine, don't worry things like that. I said I'll support you how I can—like what we just did, and I won't think differently of you. This is who you—no, how we are. C'mon, let's go."

She instantly jumps into my arms after I finish talking.

"I love you. Thank you for being you."

"I love you too, Janine. Though I'm starting to see a trend in these romantic rescues of yours." I c.a.r.e.s.s her face with my hand, embracing her with the other. She leans into my palm as I brush my fingers through her fiery, rose red hair.

"What's that?"

"Guns are always pointed at me." I say, jokingly.

"Let's keep going? You still have that promise to keep about a hotel."

She nods.

"Yeah, we need to be quick. But first!" She playfully kisses me on the cheek. "We make a pretty good team. Time to take apart the rifle, though."

"You mean we're close?"

"I mean I hear the sounds of a street. Those are definitely passing cars. Welcome to Paris, sweetie. The 'City of Love,' as Jess called it."

The radio interrupts our brief moment of romance with the panicked, hurried voice of a man speaking French. Did our enemies already find out about the guy just dealt with?

"That's the 'language of love?'" She asks. She didn't know about France's tourism or the Eiffel Tower earlier, so I can't be surprised.

"It sounds so... weird. Jess made it sound so cool and s.e.xy or something."

Suddenly, it unexpectedly switches to English.

"All stations, emergency! I say again: All stations, emergency! Demons attacking police and Hunters! Dem—CONTACT!"

Gunfire interrupts the transmission. Not gunfire heard from the radio, though—but from the street ahead of us.

Janine and I look at each other, eyes wide with realization as the situation sinks in. Paris is a war zone. I grab the radio, but before I can transmit, Janine stops me.

"Wait! What are you doing? We can't help him. We have to worry about ourselves first. If there are friendlies, we can regroup with them as we go, but we can't go identifying ourselves on the radio—our attackers might be listening for us!"

"I'm not going to say anything identifying. Jess is the only one who can understand this message, if she's listening. It's the right time of day back home, too."

"Are you sure?"

"Even if she can't reply, I'll periodically repeat this message a few times on different frequencies to hopefully tell her or someone in the squad that we're alive. That's a better start than any. Most of these transmissions we're hearing are French. English will stick out. Word of mouth, public news, or internet could spread it to her, too. We could even get a reply from local friendlies without revealing real selves."

I bring the radio to my face.

"Ice Cream to Ice Cream-Actual. Over." I end the transmission. I don't get an answer, but I don't need to.

"I can't believe you. You're crazy, you know that?" And in the midst of the gunfire in the distance, she leans in to kiss me. Deeper, this time.

"You crazy, stupid, genius. You just might get us out of this alive. I love you."

It's not what I had planned, but this kiss officially marks the start of our 'romantic getaway.'