Luke's Dream

by Melissa Haag

  I relaxed. With her in my arms, I let myself sleep.

  * * * *

  Lack of sensation in my hand woke me several hours later. Bethony was still passed out beside me. Easing my numb limb out from under her, I got up. She continued to sleep peacefully as I sat on the edge of the bed. We needed to talk. It would have been better if I’d talked to her that first morning. Now, I doubted she’d listen to me. I’d followed her for several days and suddenly asking to talk to her would prove it. It would be better if she spoke with Gabby. But how?

  I dug my phone out of my pocket. It was a cheap disposable phone, easy to sacrifice. I cleaned the call history, not that there was much of it, and slipped the phone into the pocket of her drying jeans. The tiny pocket held the phone snuggly so it wouldn’t fall out. I went back to the bed and wrote down the number I’d memorized, just like all my other contact information.

  Hopefully, when Bethony called the number, Gabby would know what to say to convince her to come with me.

  In addition to the phone, I added some cash. She needed more sleep and food. A lot of both. And the money would help her get them between here and the Compound.

  Once I had everything tucked into her pockets, I went back to her. She was already growing restless. I lay beside her once more and let her sleep.

  Close to dawn, her breathing changed, signaling my need to leave. Quietly slipping from the bed, I checked the room to make sure I’d left things as I’d found them. Then, I let myself out through the adjoining door.

  In the opposite room, I waited, listening to her wake and get out of bed. She took her time, obviously relaxed from a night sleeping in my arms. I set my hand on the wall, wishing I was still in the room with her.

  I was about to leave when I heard something clatter. Everything was silent for a minute, then the quiet sounds of her getting ready changed to frantic rustles. A moment later, her door opened and I heard her hurried footsteps in the hallway.

  I went into her vacant room and found my cell phone and Gabby’s number in the garbage. At least she’d taken the money. Frustrated that I’d sent her running again, I grabbed my phone and quickly went back to my own room to grab my jacket and bag. She had a few minutes head start on me; and when I walked into the lobby, she was already getting into a taxi.

  Frustrated, I checked out while watching the taxi pull away.

  As soon as I cleared the doors, I inhaled deeply to commit the scent then jogged to the bike. Hopefully she wasn’t going too far. The engine roared as I gunned out of the parking lot and took off in the direction the taxi had driven.

  Several blocks later, I slowed. Bethony was walking on the sidewalk in a busier area. Before I could reach her, she entered a building. Pulling over, I eyed the sign. A homeless shelter? She was carrying more than five hundred dollars now.

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I considered my next move. Obviously, I couldn’t just walk in there and try to talk to her. There were too many people, and I didn’t want to draw any attention. Yet, I couldn’t just leave her.

  An angry looking youth walked passed me and entered the building. No, I couldn’t allow her to stay in that kind of place alone. A well-dressed man beat the boy to the door and held it open for him.

  “Just in time for breakfast, Mark,” the man said.

  “No shit,” the boy said. “Why else would I be here?”

  The man didn’t let the boy’s attitude get to him. He just smiled wider.

  “I thought it was because you liked helping in the kitchen.”

  The door closed behind them, and I gave the idling bike some gas and eased away from the curb. I needed to find a safe place to park the bike so I could go be a homeless shelter volunteer. I never thought finding a Mate could cause so much trouble.

  Three

  “Hey, I’m Kathy. Need some help?”

  The woman had watched my struggles to peel a carrot for the last three minutes.

  “Yes.” I gave up trying to work the peeler and handed it over along with the carrot.

  “So how did Bob rope you into this?”

  “He didn’t. I volunteered.” I’d woven a rather convincing story about a man with a newly acquired bachelor’s degree in psychology, looking to observe troubled teens as a field study for a paper. Bill had been more than willing to invite me to help out in the kitchen. According to him, I’d get the most interaction if I served them meals first.

  I didn’t want interaction, just observation. And, though I couldn’t see Bethony from the kitchen, I checked in on her each time I excused myself to use the restroom. The last time I’d checked, she had found a comfy chair in the corner of the main room. Slouched into it with her arms tensely wrapped around her bag, she’d pretended to sleep as a deterrent to conversation. I wished she’d actually let herself sleep. She still had dark circles under her eyes.

  “This is where you succeed or fail at peeling,” Kathy said, reclaiming my attention. She held the peeler comfortably in her right hand and the carrot in the left. Then, she set the peeler to the carrot and slid the blade away from her. She made it look so easy.

  “Here,” she said, giving it back. “Keep trying.”

  She picked up another peeler and joined my efforts. It took an hour to get through the carrots and potatoes and another hour to chop. There were two other people in the kitchen with us. As we focused on preparing lunch, they washed the dishes from breakfast.

  “How many people do you feed each meal?” I asked.

  “Around one hundred. We never turn anyone away. If we run out, we have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We usually don’t run out. If there’s extra, we invite those who are still hungry back for seconds. The people here might look rough, but most of them have very giving hearts.”

  It reminded me of how things were run at the Compound. Going there had been my first exposure to giving hearts. Mainly Charlene’s. It didn’t mean I wanted to live there, though. Too many wolves ready to get into your business or to compete for the few females who showed up.

  However, I understood why my kind wanted to go there. It gave them a place where they felt they belonged. Just like the homeless shelter did for these people.

  A scream echoed through the halls. I barely stopped myself from running after Bob.

  “Stay here,” Kathy said before following him.

  The other guy strolled to the door and poked his head out for a moment before coming back.

  “Some girl must have freaked out. Maybe someone tried taking her stuff. Bob has it under control now.”

  It wasn’t some girl. It was my girl. Forcing myself to nod, I went back to the vegetables.

  Kathy returned several minutes later.

  “Is she all right?”

  “Yes. Poor thing. It was a dream that made her scream. I can’t imagine what someone so young must have endured to have such terrible things in her head while she sleeps.”

  I couldn’t imagine it either.

  Over the next six hours, I helped prepare and serve lunch and dinner. Bethony didn’t eat either meal. Instead, she stayed in her chair and suffered her dreams. She screamed at least a dozen times over the course of the day, and my frustration grew with each incident. Kathy’s comment echoed in my mind. What had happened to Bethony? What haunted her dreams, and why did she calm when I was near her? I could only think one thing. Someone had hurt her.

  Most of the people who ate dinner left the building after they were finished.

  While Kathy and the other guy cleaned up the serving line and went out to collect any missing dishes, I discreetly checked on Bethony to make sure she was still in her chair.

  Bob had checked on her each time she’d made any noise. He seemed a decent enough sort, and I was glad she was at least trying to sleep. However, if she decided to stay the night, she’d be on her own. They separated the men and the women and kept watch all night.

  “Thank you for helping today,” Bob said, after closing the slider that they used to serve food. “The
three of us will finish cleaning up and call it a night. Will we see you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  I really had no idea how long Bethony planned to stay here.

  * * * *

  She stayed two nights. Just as I was walking toward the door on the third morning, she walked out with her bag over her shoulder.

  Her scent tickled my nose. The chemicals were still absent, but she reeked of panic and fear. None of it showed on her face or in the way she moved. On the outside, she looked as tired as I felt.

  I followed her as she started heading toward the original hotel we’d used. It was close to the bus stop, which was no doubt her destination. Thankfully, I’d parked my bike in the hotel parking lot. The room I’d rented for the last two days had less than an hour’s use when I showered and changed each night. The rest of my time I’d spent helping in the shelter to keep an eye on her or on the roof of the building across the street from the shelter. It was the only place I could watch and listen for her without someone noticing me.

  We’d progressed several blocks when she stopped at a convenience store. I wasn’t surprised to see her reemerge with one caffeinated drink to her lips and an unopened one in her other hand. Her throat moved with each long swallow. My mouth watered, and I stuffed my hands into my front pockets as I followed her. She finished the first one and started on the second before she was a block from the bus stop.

  When we’d almost reached the bus stop, I fell back and crossed the busy street at a light. While she sat on the black bench to wait for the next bus, I jogged around the block and grabbed my bag and bike from the hotel.

  By the time I idled at the curb, the bus had arrived and she had boarded. My eyes felt dry and gritty. I needed sleep and hoped the bus wouldn’t be going too far. As it pulled away, I nudged the throttle and merged with traffic to follow.

  The wind in my face kept me awake as I drove for the next several hours. The cool temperature warmed, but only slightly. Any human on a motorcycle would have needed gloves to maintain feeling while on the bike.

  When the bus slowed for a middle-of-nowhere town, I passed it. The motorcycle would be too loud and obvious to try to park behind it. Instead, I turned down one of the side roads, pulled over, and cut the engine. Ahead, an iron and wood bridge bisected the rough road. Despite the trek looking seldom traveled, I got off the bike and pushed it into the trees, parking behind some leafless bushes tangled with barren vines. The dense undergrowth hid the dark bike while I considered Bethony’s next move.

  The town hadn’t been more than a few buildings. There wasn’t anywhere for her to stay, which meant another bus or hitching a ride.

  The soft crunch of gravel reached my ears. I cocked my head and listened. Someone was coming my way on foot. I crouched behind the bike and waited as the sound drew closer and passed me. Carefully, I stood and eased out from behind my cover.

  Bethony was walking the shoulder of the road. Plodding steps conveyed her exhaustion. Why would she walk when she was so tired? I silently followed, keeping to the trees.

  When she’d almost reached the bridge, she paused and looked over her shoulder. Safely in the shadow of a tree, I stilled. I doubted she’d heard me. Yet, why had she looked back? After a moment, she started forward again, but veered off the road. I listened to her climb down the embankment by the bridge. Then, everything quieted. Torn, I remained were I was. Was she listening for signs of being followed or was she escaping on a hidden trail?

  I shook my head, denying the thought as soon as I had it. She was human and couldn’t possibly sneak away from me. A quiet human was as improbable as a mutant baby beetle or unicorn.

  Stealthily, I moved to the right, angling myself further away from the road. The trees thinned enough to see a dried creek bed about six feet below. I jumped down, landing softly. Ahead, the creek curved slightly, the bank providing me with some cover as I moved forward. Suddenly she came into view. Near the bridge, the slope to the dried creek bed was covered with weeds and crushed stone. She’d slid almost to the bottom and was laying on her back on the rocks. My first thought was that she’d fallen. But she’d removed her hoodie, which lay beside her, and had her arm behind her head as a pillow. When she twitched, I knew she was sleeping.

  What was she thinking taking her warmest layer off for a nap outdoors? I strode forward and picked up the garment. The rocks couldn’t be comfortable but at least I could try to keep her warm. Shaking the hoodie out, I set it over her.

  Her eyes popped open, and I froze, busted. The overcast sky had her eyes looking very blue instead of violet. As I watched, her pupils dilated, her pulse spiked, and the scent of her fear and anger engulfed us.

  Not sure what to do to avoid screaming or hysterics, I eased the covering over her shoulders. It didn’t seem to be the right move. She scrambled to her feet before the material had a chance to settle. She stood, trembling just a few feet away. With the garment still in hand, I slowly stood, not wanting to frighten her further.

  In silence, she studied me. She swayed on her feet, and I regretted that covering her had woken her. She desperately needed sleep. She shivered, reminding me she needed the hoodie as well. Taking her silence as a promising sign, I held out the hoodie and tried to introduce myself.

  “My name is—”

  She kicked out with scary accuracy. Had my reflexes been slower, she would have unmanned me. As it was, she took advantage of the close-call sickness that had settled into my gut and tried to scramble up the bank.

  Her running and fear needed to stop. It was robbing her of sleep and making her worse. Chasing after her, I caught her from behind, pinning her arms.

  “Easy, luv. Unlike you, I mean no harm,” I said. Holding her firmly to avoid injury, I carried her back down to the creek bed.

  The rapid thump of her heart reminded me of a startled rabbit just before it faints. I quickly let her go and took a step back. Having learned my lesson, I stood at an angle to her to present less of a target.

  She quickly spun to face me, taking up a fighter’s stance, knees bent and weight on the balls of her feet. What had happened to my poor girl? I knew better than to ask.

  “As I was saying, my name is Luke Taylor. And you are?”

  “Not yours. Touch me again and I’ll sac tap you so hard you’ll be coughing semen for a week. And this time I won’t miss.”

  A preemptive ache started in my groin at her descriptive words. Yet, I couldn’t help but grin at her courage. Her fear hadn’t dissipated. She just wasn’t letting it control her.

  Her gaze, which had been focused on me since she woke, drifted to the tree line behind me. She scanned the banks closely. I tilted my head, puzzled.

  “What are you looking for?”

  Her blue gaze settled on me once more.

  “Your pack of murdering dogs.”

  The phrasing surprised me. While I didn’t consider myself at all similar to a simple minded dog, the canine comparison still hit uncomfortably close to home.

  “I’m alone.”

  She snorted and eyed me. After a few minutes, I realized she was waiting to see what I would do. I sighed and sat down on the patch of rocks where we’d started.

  She glanced at the trees again then glared at me.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Waiting for you to decide your next move. Keeping up with you is exhausting. I thought giving you money would keep you in one place long enough that you could get the sleep you obviously need.” I rested my forearm on my knees, relaxing. “So what are your nightmares about?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “All of the ways I’d rather die than bite the neck of a disgusting werewolf who’d be willing to rape a fourteen-year-old girl just to have control over her when Judgement comes.”

  Rage consumed me, and I quickly looked down to focus on pulling back the shift that had changed my vision. Her words ate at my mind. I hadn’t found her soon enough. One of my kind had already found her and—I swallowed hard, hop
ing she didn’t mean what she’d said. That I’d somehow misunderstood.

  “Has someone hurt you?” I asked, struggling to keep in control. “Tell me who.”

  Her continued silence tore at me. Sick with self-blame, I looked up. She still stood where she’d been, ready to defend or run depending on the situation. Her stance…the dreams…I burned for revenge against whoever had hurt her.

  “In this life?” she said, angrily. “No one, yet. But it looks like you’re about to fix that. In other lives, they’ve already died.”

  Clouded with anger, it took a moment for her words to sink in.

  “This life?” That made no sense. And why did she think I was going to hurt her? I’d been polite and even left her money. Granted, I had snuck into her room, but only with the most honorable intentions. Sleep deprivation did odd things to humans. Perhaps further conversation should wait until after she’d rested.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you toying with me? We both know what you want.”

  I disagreed. I wanted her to sleep. I had no idea what she wanted and guessed asking wouldn’t provide me with any straight answers. Staring at her, I quietly removed the phone from my pocket. In less than a second, I had Gabby’s number ready.

  “Press call. I have a...friend, Gabby. She sent me to look for you. Thought you might be like her.”

  Her breath caught, and her faced flushed the prettiest pink. I thought she was angry until she smiled slightly and looked up at the grey sky above.

  Her sudden shift in mood threw me off.

  “No, thanks,” she said finally. Then, she picked up her hoodie and bag and started up the slope. I followed her, wondering what she would do next. If not for her thundering heart, I would have tried offering her a ride on the bike. But, I didn’t think she was ready for that yet. She really needed to call Gabby. Gabby would vouch for me. Maybe. My first meeting with Gabby hadn’t gone so well either. Regardless, Gabby was my best bet at convincing Bethony to let me help her.