by Melissa Haag
The girl watched me closely as if waiting for me to do something scrupulous. I most certainly needed to leave.
I opened my mouth to say farewell but her expression became even more guarded. Knowing I’d lost the opportunity for a friendly exchange, I nodded my thanks and walked off in the direction she’d pointed. The guard watched me approach. I smiled at her and made my way into the men’s restroom.
How was I supposed to get the girl to the Compound? She was young but obviously not stupid. She didn’t even trust the reason I’d approached them; what reason could I give her to take a cross country trip with me?
This was going to end with me arrested. I leaned against the sink and stared at myself. The girl needed protection. I couldn’t walk away and leave her discovery to someone else. She was mine to watch over until I presented her to Gabby and the Elders. Even though I knew my right to her was still a long way off, I felt a rush of satisfaction.
“She’s fourteen,” I said to the mirror. I couldn’t let myself forget.
When I left the restroom, the guard was gone and so was the girl and her friends. Despite the foot traffic, her odd scent was easy to track. She’d left through a set of side doors. I followed the trail on foot through the parking lot to a bus stop and swore.
The bike I’d borrowed was in the adjacent lot. Jogging to it, I took the key from my pocket and hoped I’d be able to follow the exhaust of the bus. Now that I’d finally found her, I didn’t want to lose her and start the search over.
With the wind hitting my face, it wasn’t easy to discern one specific vehicle from the emissions clogging the air. After two mistakes that required me to backtrack, I found myself driving through quiet neighborhoods until I caught a concentrated area of the girl’s unusual scent at a corner bus stop. Driving slowly, I tracked it to a small, neat house bordered with trimmed hedges. The home didn’t fit the girl. Everything about it looked maintained and cared for.
Parking in front, I wondered what kind of life the girl had. What would I be taking her from? I slowly strolled up the front walk and knocked on the door. I waited and knocked again, a bit louder. There was no answer. After a casual look around to check for witnesses, I gave the knob a sharp twist and let myself in.
The entry opened into a modest kitchen. The girl’s unusual chemical scent soured the otherwise clean space. The sink was clear of dishes and the table decorated with a flowering plant. On the surface, I spotted a note and phone. Both looked out of place in the uncluttered setting.
I moved to the table and looked down at the note.
Mom,
School’s not for me. I want to see the world. I’m sorry for leaving like this but hope you’ll understand someday.
Bethony
Bethony. I smiled slightly at finally knowing her name, then frowned and stared at her words. She’d run? Why? Turning away, I followed her scent to her room. It was a complete mess, entirely opposite of the rest of the house. Clothes piled onto the floor, the bed, and half hung out of her dresser drawers. A bathroom connected to the bedroom. I checked and saw the toothbrush holder was empty and no hairbrush in sight. Girls always had a hairbrush handy.
Walking out, I eyed her room once more then left. If she was running, I needed to keep following her trail or I would risk losing it.
Back outside, I got on the bike and slowly pulled away from her home. Bethony, a caffeine addict on the run from what looked like a completely stable home. I hoped things would start making sense soon.
Her trail led me to another bus stop several blocks in the opposite direction of the first. It wasn’t as quiet or small and had a schedule posted just inside the clear walls. I checked the laminated paper and took off again, following the bus’s route.
At each stop, I tested the air for her scent. I didn’t rush. Overlooking anything would mean losing her. I would not lose Bethony.
Two
It was almost four hours later that I rolled into a small town, the last stop on the bus’s route before it circled back. At the T intersection, where the main road met with a county road, a hometown diner seemed the focal point. A worn red and white sign suspended from the shingled roof totted Chris’s Cooking Café. Set back just enough to allow diagonal street side parking, the building invited a hungry traveler.
Pulling into a spot out front, I killed the motor. My hands tingled from the long ride. I shook them out as I looked around. There wasn’t much to see. Beyond the diner, there was a small motel further to the left and several houses. To the right, a bar, a church, and further down, a farm. On the road from which I’d come, a few scattered houses. There was no traffic or pedestrians.
The quiet of the place washed over me. While I considered myself more adapted than most of my kind—I’d worked jobs and lived in houses that required rent—submerging myself into city living over the last few weeks had left me itching for trees and my fur.
I inhaled deeply, appreciating the abundance of cold earthy scents. Yet, underneath that, the tang of her scent lingered. She’d definitely gotten off the bus here. Since I didn’t see a figure walking in any direction, my guess she was either in the diner or the motel.
Getting off the bike, I considered how best to approach her. She’d been standoffish the first time around. Seeing me here would look like I was stalking her. Which I was. With a frown, I started toward the diner, hoping for a miracle to avoid a public scene and jail time.
A scream faint enough that no human would have heard it unless they were closer had me turning my head toward the motel. Was it her?
I started scenting the air as I moved. Another scream cut through the air, ripe with pain and terror. I broke into a run. Her scent guided me to the correct door, and I didn’t hesitate to twist the knob and break the lock.
A small, dark room greeted me. Bethony lay on the bed, spasmodically twitching in her sleep. I quickly stepped in and closed the door behind me. Even without the outside light, I had no trouble seeing her. She hadn’t stopped twitching at the sound of the door closing.
“Bethony,” I said gently, not wanting to scare her again.
She didn’t seem to hear me. Her twitching only grew worse. Tears leaked from the corners of her closed eyes, leaving behind a thick trail of black from her heavy eye makeup.
I breathed in expansively. The room smelled of must and fear. She was dreaming. Nothing pleasant by the looks of it.
Her mouth opened, and I knew she was about to scream again. I was beside her in two steps.
“It’s just a dream, sweetheart,” I said, smoothing back her hair.
No scream came, but she stiffened in her sleep as if in incredible pain. The sight tore a hole in my resolve to keep my distance. Without considering the consequences, I lifted her into my arms and sat on the bed. Her mouth closed, and her expression eased. Slowly, the tension melted from her, and she relaxed in my hold.
“That’s right. You’re safe.”
I studied her tear streaked face as the crease in her brow gradually faded. The perfection of her cute, small nose made my heart skip uncomfortably. Mine…in about four years. What was four years when I’d already waited twenty-three. It was nothing, I told myself. I couldn’t quite make myself believe it though.
I pressed my lips to her forehead and held her tightly. She didn’t move, but her pulse and breathing eased, and I knew she’d settled into a more peaceful sleep.
Holding her, I considered what to do next. That she’d run from home and left a note would make it easier for me to get her to the Compound. But the way she’d run bothered me. With the exception of her room, her home had looked clean and well-cared for. The letter to her mom wasn’t something a resentful teen would leave, so I didn’t think her leaving was due to a poor home life. And I certainly didn’t believe it was because of me. What teen runs from home because some random stranger asked directions to the bathroom? Yet, the timing of her departure burrowed into my mind.
Pulling back, I gently wiped away the marks Bethony’s tears had
made. The dark circles under her eyes told me she hadn’t been sleeping well for a long while. What had happened to her to cause it? Her kissing friend had asked Bethony what had messed her up. Had I not interrupted, I might have already had my answer to why she’d run. And without an answer, I didn’t know how to convince her that coming with me would help her.
Across the room, her bag beckoned. I carefully set her back on the bed, squelching the part of me that didn’t want to let her go, and went to the bag. The clothes inside were balled up and—I lifted a shirt to my nose—dirty. The assortment of clothing was random, and I frowned at all the thin shirts. Even this far south, weather was changing for winter. She had nothing warm enough. She’d obviously rushed packing.
Unwilling to let her suffer, I removed the zippered hoodie I wore underneath my jacket and tucked it into the bag before continuing my inspection.
A wad of cash and her ID hid between two shirts. I studied her picture on the card. Her hair wasn’t as dark and her face looked softer, less drawn. She didn’t look thin or fragile. A lighter coat of makeup outlined her eyes. Yet, I could see a hint of the dark circles already there.
I glanced at the information. It was only a few months old. My gaze locked onto the name. Dee F. Ete. Defeat? Why would she use that as a fake name? And, the age was just as ridiculous. No one would believe she was twenty-five.
Behind me, she moved restlessly. I put her things back just the way she had them and turned as she started to make distressed noises.
A frown pulled her features, and her lower lip trembled. The ache in my chest grew, and I went to sit beside her. Smoothing back her dark, coarse hair, I wondered why she had changed her appearance. It just made her seem more fragile to me. My need to protect and keep her safe wrapped around me.
I stayed with her throughout the night. Mostly, I sat beside her and gently stroked her hair. My presence seemed to comfort her. More confirmation that the pull was at work. It concerned me, but not enough to leave her to suffer her tormented dreams on her own.
Near dawn, her breathing pattern changed, and I knew she’d be waking soon. I eased myself off the bed and quietly left the room. Her first impression of me hadn’t gone well. I wanted our second meeting to go smoother and not end with her running. With a plan, I walked to the diner. The bus wasn’t due for hours, and Chris’ was the only place Bethony could go to eat. Hopefully, having breakfast ready would win her over enough to listen to me.
Taking a booth near a window with a view of the motel, I ordered for us, conversed idly with the sparse patrons—better to have allies just in case Bethony freaked out—and then waited. When Bethony left her room, she had her bag on her shoulder and headed toward motel office. Motioning for the waitress, I asked her for the extra plate she was keeping warm for me.
“Good luck with your meeting,” the older man at the counter said before he stood.
Nodding my thanks, I picked up my coffee and took another sip. Older humans were interesting. They asked questions of complete strangers and expected answers, much like Elders. Yet, unlike Elders, they were only curious. The man hadn’t analyzed my answers or motives. Only listened.
Just as the woman set the plate opposite me, I watched Bethony leave the office and briefly speak to the old-timer. She wasn’t wearing the hoodie I’d left her. Most likely she hadn’t discovered it yet.
The old-timer nodded, and I watched Bethony climb into the back of his truck.
Bugger.
“I’ll need the check,” I said, rising.
“Want me to box that up?”
“No, thank you. My meeting was just canceled.”
I paid and strode out the door. The truck had already disappeared down the road. Inhaling, I committed the scent to memory then climbed onto the motorcycle, which was right where I’d left it the night before. After starting it up, I slowly followed the truck.
When trees gave way to houses, I sped up, wanting to keep the truck in sight. The increasing traffic gave me good cover as I watched Bethony huddle against the cab of the truck. At least she’d found the hoodie and had the sense to put it on. She still looked cold, though.
The driver signaled and turned into a parking lot. I drove past and parked on a side street. Walking quickly, I watched Bethony hop out of the back and offer the man some money. He declined it, waved, and got back into the truck. She turned, walked to the clear-sided shelter, and studied a piece of paper tape to one of the walls.
Another bus stop. I waited until the bus pulled up and she boarded. Once it pulled away, I went to check the posted schedule. I hoped she would get to wherever she was going soon so I could talk to her and get her to the Compound. Each day just increased the risk she’d be discovered by one of my kind.
* * * *
I signaled and pulled over. Setting my feet to the road, I idled and wondered if she was finally at her destination. She’d switched buses four times within the last twenty-four hours, and I’d followed.
A pale and shaky Bethony disembarked. She made it five steps before she stopped and lifted her head to look around. Her movements were measured. I hoped she’d stop to rest.
She turned to a passenger who’d stepped off the bus behind her.
“Is there a hotel near here?”
The sound of her voice pulled at my insides, and my fingers tightened around the bike grips.
The man pointed down the street. As she shuffled down the road, I pulled away from the curb and drove past her to park in the hotel’s parking lot. She didn’t notice me as she walked inside.
I waited several minutes, giving her time to check in and settle into her room. After grabbing my bag from the back of the bike, I checked in and followed her lingering scent down the hallway. I paused at her door and listened to the sound of water running inside.
Setting my hand on the door, I closed my eyes and forced myself to relax. She wasn’t going anywhere. At least, not at the moment. I went to my room, two doors down and let myself in. Since I’d skipped sleep when I’d sat up with her and had spent the past twenty-four hours following her across state lines, I was ready to crash. But not before taking my own shower.
I’d just finished drying off when I heard the first muffled cry. I quickly tugged on pants and flew out the door. Of course her door was locked.
Since our rooms were right down the hall from the front desk, the clerk would have a clear view of me if she looked up from her book. Even if she wasn’t looking, I was worried she’d hear me if I tried forcing the knob.
I jogged down the hall toward the front desk, and the woman looked up at my approach.
“Hey. I locked myself out of my room. Room thirty-seven. Can I have a new card?”
She smiled at me and started typing on her computer.
“Can you verify your address?”
I rattled off the address that had been on Bethony’s fake ID.
The clerk reached for a new card, swiped it, and handed it over.
“Thank you.”
The woman went back to her book.
I jogged back to Bethony’s room. Her cries were getting louder, almost to human hearing level. I swiped the card and opened the door two inches before it caught on the security latch. Pulling the door almost closed, I tried using the card to push the latch out of the way. It wouldn’t budge.
Frustrated, I closed the door and went back to my room. The window was the only other option without alerting the front desk. I slid the glass panel aside. It only opened several inches. Swearing, I closed the window.
The connecting door caught my eye. It wouldn’t lead to Bethony’s room; it was on the wrong wall. However, the room between us likely connected to hers.
I pulled on my shirt and socks and left my room one more time. Luck was on my side because the woman wasn’t at the front desk this time. I debated on just breaking into Bethony’s room, but decided it would be easier to hide the damage of a broken handle than a splintered door jam.
The hallway was quiet when I kno
cked on the door between mine and Bethony’s. No one answered. I knocked louder, needing to be sure. When there was still no response, I forced the handle open, breaking the lock, and quickly closed the door behind me. Then I did the same with the connecting door to Bethony’s room.
Her natural scent teased my nose as I went to her. She looked clean and smelled chemical free as she lay twitching under the covers. I inhaled slowly, savoring her real flavor—cinnamon and an earthy hint of Earl Grey tea—while I studied her. No makeup polluted her tear trails tonight. Her dark hair was a damp tangle around her head.
“Shh,” I said, reaching out to smooth the strands back from her sweaty face. “I’m here, sweetheart.”
She turned her head into my hand. The gesture made my yearning for a Mate stronger. Why did she have to be so young? I leaned down and pressed my lips to her forehead, wishing time would pass faster for us. As before, she quieted when I touched her. I studied her as she relaxed and sank into a quieter sleep. She still looked like an adolescent, but not as childish as she had with the heavy makeup.
I straightened and glanced at the bathroom. She’d washed several items of clothing and had hung them on the shower rod to dry. The small scrap of bright teal drew my gaze, and I swallowed hard before averting my eyes. A few crumpled bills lay on the bathroom counter. Removing my hand from her hair, I went to the money and counted it. There wasn’t much there.
Behind me, Bethony started making troubled sounds. I set the money back where I’d found it and returned to her. She was starting to cry again. I dried her tears, my touch once again quieting her. Whether she knew it or not, she needed me.
Hoping I wasn’t making the biggest mistake of my life, I walked around the bed and eased myself onto the covers. She turned toward me as if sensing my nearness, and I reached out to pull her close and slip an arm under her head. She sighed in her sleep and snuggled against me, her hair tickling my jaw. This was what I’d been missing. I smoothed a hand over her head as an ache grew in my chest. It was so clear; she was supposed to be mine. Life was cruel to show her to me when she was so young. She would need time to understand she was meant for me. Time to grow and mature. I’d give her that time. I hoped the Elders would too.
