I’ve never felt completely safe my entire life. Being cursed with the Sense, I’ve always lived in fear that people want to hurt me because of who I am. That fear is even more alive now. “So what do we do?”
“First things first, you have to change your appearance. Dye your hair or something. As soon as we enter the gates of the city, they’ll recognize you if you don’t.”
I run my fingers protectively through my hair, grabbing a handful of the lopped-off ends. I haven’t seen a mirror in days, so I can only imagine what it must look like—jagged, uneven, hideous. I’m suddenly very aware of my close proximity to the good-looking guy who’s driving. And I must look like a mess. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, and I turn away from him.
“Oh, now, it doesn’t look that bad.” He ruffles the back of my hair with his fingers. “I can even it up for you if it bothers you, but I think you definitely need to change the color.”
I swat his hand away. “Changing my hair won’t make a difference.”
“Well, it’s worth a try, ain’t it? Unless you have another plan?”
I cross my arms over my chest and let out a huff. My bottom lip starts to poke out, so I pull it in. “No, I don’t have another plan.”
The corner of his mouth twitches like he’s trying to suppress a grin. “All right then. Here’s the plan. We’ll find somewhere to stop outside of New Albuquerque, and you can lie low and hide somewhere. I’ll drive into the city to buy the provisions and be back before dark to help you with Makka. Not that I’m much help these days, but you know what I mean.”
My stomach feels queasy at the thought of being left alone. I’ve gotten used to his company. His strength and confidence. I never would have made it this far without him. “How long will you be gone?”
“Two hours, tops.”
Chapter Nineteen
Liam
New Albuquerque’s wolf was one of the first captured, so their border patrols should be lax. They’ve lived in relative safety for going on fifteen years now. Just as I expect, the gates are wide open, and I’m able to roll right in without being stopped. Two enforcers stand on either side of the road, and four more stand guard at the top of the twenty-foot wall surrounding the city. Seems like a lot of guards to me, but I haven’t lived inside a city in years, so what do I know?
They look at me with stern faces as I drive through, so I smile and wave. They don’t wave back. I think when people become enforcers, they lose the ability to smile. They’re always so serious. I don’t remember ever seeing my dad smile, but I never could seem to do anything that pleased him, so I suppose that’s why.
New Albuquerque sure does look different than New Portland. There’s a nice mountain range off in the distance, but otherwise everything is flat and dry. The grass in the medians looks brown and crunchy, and the trees are a yellowish green. Most of the buildings in this part of town are one- or two-story brown brick structures. Lots of fast food restaurants, a few hotels, a bank, and one gas station on the way out of town. The residences must be the taller buildings farther inside the walls. Really, the only things that resemble my old home are the throngs of people shuffling about on the sidewalks and the potholes in the road.
And the smell. I scrunch up my nose as I roll up the truck window. That’s one thing I don’t miss about living in the city. With so many people packed into one place, the stench of body odor mixed with sewage backups and bus exhaust is enough to entice my lunch to make a reappearance.
My heart’s racing as I pull into the Walgreens parking lot. I left Wren alone on the side of the road about ten miles outside of town. I’ve got plenty of time to buy the supplies and get back to her before dark, but I’m still nervous about leaving her alone. She’s got the pistol, but she swears she won’t use it. Trees are sparse in this part of the country, so she doesn’t have much cover if any drones fly over. Hopefully she’ll find a big tree and stay put under it until I get back. I have no doubt she can take care of herself, but I do feel better when we’re together. She’s just got a way about her that makes me want to spend every second I can with her.
Now, if I were hair dye, where would I be? I pace up and down the aisles until I find it. Jeez, there are about a million different colors to choose from—red, honey, light brown, golden blonde, copper. What would look best on her? I trace my fingertips over the boxes and stop. I have no idea what I’m looking for.
Blonde. Probably blonde.
It’ll be the biggest change. But her hair’s so dark and shiny and pretty. It reminds me of a raven’s feathers the way it shines in the sunlight. I hate for her to have to change it, but she’s got to look different if she’s going to make it far enough into the city to find her dad.
I sure hope Missy is right about Wren’s dad. She doubts he has a cure, but she swears he has a good heart. At least he did when she knew him years ago. She warned me the work he’s doing in energy manipulation is disturbing, but he really thinks he’s benefiting mankind by doing it. I don’t know what to expect when we get there, but I hope for Wren’s sake he’s a nice guy.
And I’m doing my best to teach her not to be afraid of the Sense. She does need to learn to trust her powers, and I’m happy to help her with that. I just hope I’m not leading her into more trouble than I’ve already caused. I have no idea what’s going to happen when we find Michael Crane, but I will stick with Wren no matter what. I’m the reason she’s in this mess, so I’m going to do my best to get her out.
Here’s a blonde color that says it’s specially designed for dark hair. It’ll have to do. I grab the dye, a pair of scissors, and some other supplies and make my way toward the cash register. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I swear I can feel people staring at me. I look around, trying to appear casual, but nobody makes eye contact. Still, something doesn’t feel right. People—not just me—seem nervous for some reason. They’re rushing around, grabbing things, and hurrying to check out like they’re running out of time. I’m the last customer in the store.
I must look suspicious. I’m sure I don’t look like the kind of guy who would dye his hair. What do I say if they ask? I’m buying it for my girlfriend. But why didn’t she come to buy it for herself? Because she’s sick. Why is she dyeing her hair if she’s sick? She’s . . . oh, I know.
I pick up a box of tampons and a chocolate bar and plop them on the counter with the dye.
The cashier looks at my purchase and then at me. He hesitates as he eyes my scar. “Did you find everything okay?”
“Yeah. Girlfriends, you know?”
“Uh-huh.”
I hand him the cash, take the bag, and scurry out the door. Turns out, the people inside the store aren’t the only ones in a rush. Cars are speeding down the roads, shops are closing, and streetlights are turning on in broad daylight. With the way people are rushing about, it looks like they might have a curfew here. That’s surprising, seeing as how they haven’t had to deal with a wolf in so long.
I check my watch. Even if they do have a curfew, there’s at least two hours before the sun starts to set. Plenty of time to get out and get to the next city before nightfall.
What’s the rush? Whatever it is, I better make sure I’m outside the gates before they close them.
Back on the deserted road, I head toward the exit, but the gates are already closed. The flashing lights of an enforcer vehicle signal me to pull over. Crap. I don’t have a license. Not even a fake one. Most of the driving I do is on retired roads into evacuated towns. If I ever got caught driving there, I’d be toast regardless, so I never bothered to get one made. Breathe, Liam. You can do this.
I press the button to roll the window down as the man in gray approaches the truck. His narrow lips form a hard line beneath his nose. Mirrored sunglasses cover his eyes, so all I see is my own reflection staring back at me.
“What happened to you?” I can’t see his eyes, but I know he’s looking at my scar.
“Got in a fight with some barbed wire on the gym class obsta
cle course.”
He lowers his glasses, and his blue eyes gaze over the rims. “Ouch.”
“Yeah.” I shrug and let out a nervous laugh. Please don’t ask for my license. Please just wave me on.
“You know curfew has been moved up to seven, right? You need to get indoors immediately.
“Seven? Why? I’m not from New Albuquerque; I’m passing through.”
“Well, you better get to a hotel then. We got word a new wolf’s on the loose. A girl this time. It’s just a precaution.”
“A girl, huh? How about that. But you see, I really need to get to New Santa Fe today. I don’t suppose you could open the gates and let me through real quick, could you?”
He shakes his head and rests his hand on the gun in his holster. “No can do. You need to turn around and find shelter immediately.”
A lump the size of a baseball forms in my throat, and I swallow it down. “Yes, sir. I’ll be heading to a hotel now.”
He watches as I do a three-point turn and head back into town. Luckily, I’ve got enough cash to pay for a hotel. I throw a tarp over the stuff in the bed of the truck and take a change of clothes to my room. I haven’t used a real shower with hot water in years, and while I feel a little guilty about it, I have to admit I’m looking forward to it.
The whole bathroom is full of steam by the time I’m done, and it wafts out when I open the door, fogging the mirror before it dissipates in the room. I use a towel to wipe off the glass, and I stare at my reflection for a while. That scar has got to be the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. The redness is starting to fade, so it might eventually blend in with the rest of my skin better. But the way it pulls the corner of my eye down will never change. That will forever be the first thing people notice when they look at me.
And every time I look in the mirror, it’ll remind me of all the people who died because of my mistakes. I wonder what Wren sees when she looks at me. After the initial shock of the scar wore off, she hasn’t seemed bothered by it. When she looks at me, she actually looks into my eyes. Her gaze doesn’t hover around the scar like most people’s. I don’t understand how she can even stand to be near me after everything I’ve done to her. She’s even starting to act like she kinda likes me. Not like in the way I’d like her to like me. Not the way I like her. But maybe one day she’ll at least consider me a friend.
I settle into bed and flip on the television. It’s been a while since I’ve watched one. There’s some sort of press conference going on, on every channel I turn it to, so I crank up the volume to see what’s happening. A whole bunch of enforcers are lined up behind a podium, and a slew of reporters are peppering them with questions.
A big burly guy with dark-brown hair and tanned skin steps up to the microphone. His expression is grim, his brow furrowed over dark eyes, a scowl pulling down the corners of his mouth. He introduces himself as Seth Campbell, and my heart forgets to beat for a second.
Didn’t Wren say her boyfriend’s name was Seth?
I crank up the volume all the way so I can hear what he has to say.
“The wolf should be considered extremely dangerous, even in human form. It’s fast, and I’ve seen it shoot a gun with the precision of a sniper.”
It? Did he call Wren an it?
“We know exactly where it’s headed, and I have no doubt I can subdue it once I confront it.”
My blood boils at the casual way this asshat writes her off as something less than human. She’s still the same sweet girl she’s always been, and she always will be. Just because Makka takes over at night, it doesn’t make her any less of a person.
“How can you be so confident you’ll be able to catch the wolf this time?” a reporter asks.
Seth purses his lips, and for a split second, a tiny bit of regret flashes in his eyes before he composes himself. “Because it used to be my girlfriend.”
I’ve had about enough of that, so I turn off the TV and bury my head in the pillow. I don’t understand how anyone could be so heartless, to turn in his own girlfriend and then lead the manhunt to chase her down when she gets away. He must be getting some huge reward for this. What else would his motivation be if not money or power?
I flip off the lamp and stare at the tiny shaft of sunlight that cuts across the ceiling as it shrinks into the shadows. The moon will be out soon, and so will Makka, and all I can do is hope Wren is still where I left her when I get there tomorrow morning. And that nobody else turns up dead.
Chapter Twenty
Wren
It’s getting late. Liam should be back by now. I’ve been huddled under this tree for nearly three hours, but he promised he’d be back in two. What could be keeping him? A flat tire? Engine trouble? Maybe the enforcers caught him. Maybe he was pulled over for speeding and didn’t have a license. My mind races through a myriad of situations that could be causing his delay, and none of them end well.
I should go after him. He probably needs help. I bang the back of my head against the tree. Think, Wren. There’s no way I could make it to the city by nightfall, even if I ran my fastest. I’d pass out before I made it that far.
Makkapitew could do it, though. Maybe I can convince him to go to the city, and . . . And what? Kill everyone he sees? Tear through the town with his teeth bared, threatening anyone who got in his way? And even if he did find Liam, what then? He’d pounce on him the first chance he got.
No, Liam can take care of himself. I’m sure he’s fine. I need to focus on my problem. I’m about to transform into the wolf again, and I have got to be able to control it this time. No chains. No cages. No Liam to distract him. Makkapitew will want to kill something, and I have to make sure his meal is venison or boar and not human flesh.
I can do this. I have to do this.
Half an hour passes, and the sun dips behind the horizon. My body morphs into the wolf, and his consciousness takes over. Confusion clouds his thoughts as he tries to get his bearings. We’re so far from New Portland now; it takes him a few minutes to get used to the new surroundings.
Heated anger slithers through his veins like a snake chasing its prey. His first instinct is to return to his territory, but I will him to stay. I’m learning to control him, though “control” is too strong a term. “Negotiate” may be a better way to say it. A series of golden threads connects my soul to his, and I can manipulate his actions—will him to obey—by playing the strings like a harp.
Plucking the threads with my intent, I can transfer thoughts to him. Sometimes he listens. But Makkapitew is strong, and I can’t diminish his anger at humans for trapping him in this realm. He only wants to be free.
I get it. I’ve spent my entire life wishing to be free from the Sense. If I didn’t have these powers, maybe my life would be better. I could be normal. I wouldn’t have to suppress a huge part of my soul. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? The Sense is part of my soul. It’s part of who I am, and no matter how far I run, I’ll never be free from me. It’s time I learn to accept this part of me—all of me.
The wolf is part of me now, and I can accept him, anger and all, while I try to find a way to set him free.
Please, Makka. Stay here tonight. But his soul is wild and longs to roam. I wish I could read his thoughts to know where we’re headed, but all I can do is ride along. He senses something, and he races into the night to find it. While I’ve managed to stop him from running to New Portland, I can’t keep him still. I feel his exhilaration as he speeds toward his objective. He smells humans. Lots of them.
Please don’t go to the city. I mentally pluck at his soul strings, trying to convince him to stop, but his will is too strong. He hates all humans for imprisoning him in a human body, and he intends to kill them all.
He’s hardly winded as the city walls come into view. Crouching low, he creeps toward the gates in search of his first victim. Six enforcers line the top of the wall, three on each side of the massive gate. Each man holds a semiautomatic rifle, and they pace the walls intently. New Albuquerqu
e takes the threat seriously.
No one is on the ground. Let’s go back. Please. I can’t reason with the wolf. His muscles tighten, coiling for the strike. A howl of rage fills the air as he leaps toward the closest enforcer. His paws make contact halfway up the wall, and he springs off, backflipping onto the ground. He growls and jumps again, but the wall is too high.
The bap-bap-bap of guns firing sends bullets raining down to the ground in front of us. Makka does a one-eighty and races along the wall, a shower of bullets following his trail.
We should be dead by now. There’s no way that many enforcers could miss . . . unless they’re missing on purpose. Of course, they don’t want to kill him. Come on, Makkapitew. They’ll get you with a tranquilizer if you don’t get out of here. I focus on the memory in the forest, sending him the nausea and pain we felt that night. Finally, I get through.
With an irritated grunt, he turns and races away from the wall. The enforcers fire again, and a bullet grazes Makka’s flank. He yelps at the searing pain but keeps running. It’s only a flesh wound this time. Nothing like the shot to the shoulder he received before. The men’s shouts fade in the distance as the wolf retreats.
Chapter Twenty-One
Wren
An hour after daybreak, the sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the dusty terrain. I’m crouched behind a boulder near the highway, listening for the rumble of approaching engines. A car passes every ten to fifteen minutes, but I’ve seen no sign of Liam.
My head is pounding, and my stomach knots with worry as I try to avoid thinking the worst. He is coming back. He has to. He left me with no supplies. No food, no water. Just his dad’s pistol for protection—as if I could use it on anyone—and it’s lying up the road somewhere. I couldn’t hold on to it when I transformed.
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