Integrity was surprised by her own apathy with the situation. It made no difference to her whether she were in Westmarch or fleeing from it—she had no where else to go, no other ties to drag her away. I may as well be there as anywhere else.
“Where are we going?” she asked Paul, barely interested. Should I be concerned that I care so little about what happens to me?
“Right now, we're going to the rendezvous point. After that, I don't know.”
As the car twisted and turned through the thick forest around them, Integrity gestured at Bowman. “Shouldn't he turn on the headlights? We might wreck.”
“It's more important that no one knows where we are. If we hit a tree, you'll probably live. If they get their hands on you, you won't.”
Integrity rubbed at her eyes, wishing she could see better in the nonexistent light. “Who's 'they' and why do they want me dead?”
Paul shifted in the darkness, turning to face her more. “'They' are a rebel group that have decided the Destine would be better off in their control, and they don't technically want you dead, just linked to them.”
“Being the Destine is so much fun,” she said, sarcasm dripping from the words. “Aren't I even entitled to a solid night's sleep?”
Paul laughed. “Apparently not, though you can sleep in the car all you like. We'll be driving for a while.”
Integrity grumbled some more as she tried to curl into a ball on the short seat, leaning her head on the window. She tried to sleep, but the best she could hope for was a not-asleep-but-not-cognizant limbo. The sun rose, and they drove on.
As the hours ticked by on the clock on the dashboard, and as they passed more and more freeway signs announcing fast food places, Integrity grew more and more desperate. Finally, she could keep quiet no longer.
“Um, Bowman?” He grunted. “When it's convenient, could we stop and get something to eat? There's no rush, or anything,” she hastily added. The car accelerated and veered down the next off-ramp.
“Which one?” Bowman grunted as they slowed.
“Whatever's closest.” Idiot! You hate that place. As Bowman drove quickly through the parking lot, she thought, Oh, great. “Uh, could we go in?”
“The drive-thru is faster.” Bowman settled more deeply into his seat as though to emphasize his point.
“Yeah, it is,” she hedged, “but they don't offer a bathroom.” She couldn't be entirely sure, but she thought Bowman's ears turned a little red as he pulled out of the drive-thru queue and into a parking space in front of the building.
As they walked through the heavy glass door, Integrity muttered, “You can back off a little, you know. You can't come in the ladies' room with me.”
The two men argued in whispers for the duration of their walk to the restrooms. At the doorway, Bowman grabbed her arm to stop her. “Make sure there's no one in there.” He propped the door open with one shoe.
“You look like a pervert, you know.” Integrity felt like everyone in the building was staring at her, though she knew they probably weren't. Making a big show of it, she bent over and looked under each of the stalls. “See? No one,” she hissed.
“Open the doors.”
She made a disgusted noise, then followed orders. “Permission to use the bathroom, sir?” She saluted him, then pulled an awful face.
“Permission granted,” he replied, stone-faced, before letting the door swing shut.
Before they left, Integrity got something off the menu and carried the paper bag to the car. Once inside, Paul handed her a paper carton of milk. “I'm sorry we didn't stop sooner,” he said softly, obviously trying to not let Bowman hear. “It's hard to remember your little human things, even though we should.”
Integrity waved her hand in the air, swallowed the mouthful of milk she had. “Don't worry about it. It's not your fault.”
When Integrity had eaten as much as she could stand, she crumpled up the top of the bag and set it on the floor. Paul was looking at her quizzically. “What?”
“Why didn't you eat it all? Was it . . . gross?”
Integrity busted up laughing at Paul's challenge with picking an adjective. “To tell you the truth,” she whispered conspiratorially, “I've never really liked that place.”
“Then why did you tell us to go 'anywhere'?” he laughed back at her. She just smiled and shrugged.
Đ
Shortly before 2:00 in the afternoon, if the clock on the dashboard could be trusted, and if they hadn't crossed any time zones, Bowman pulled the car up in front of a park and slid the gear shift into park. What's going on? We only stop to eat.
“Can I get out and stretch my legs?” Integrity asked when neither man moved to leave the car. They hesitated momentarily, then Paul opened his door and held it for her to exit from. Her legs felt like they were filled with mud and she half expected her joints to creak like the Tin Man's. The weather here wasn't too cold, though she wished she had a jacket. I wish I could wash my hair, too. It's been two days, after all.
Abruptly, Paul clapped his hands together and announced cheerfully, “Well, time to go!”
Integrity walked back to the car with her escort, then felt her stomach clench. “There's someone in the car!” she hissed.
“Um, yeah, that's why we stopped here.” Paul was avoiding her gaze along with any specifics about the stranger in the car.
Integrity stopped. “I'm not getting in the car with someone! What if he's a bad guy?”
Paul cleared his throat and grabbed at her arm—she jerked it out of his grasp. “You need to trust us. He's supposed to be here. He's here to protect you.”
Integrity felt apprehensive, but she decided she'd be worse off on her own in the park than in the car with Paul, Bowman, and the new guy. Paul and Bowman will protect me, right? she tried to reassure herself.
Integrity couldn't get a good look at the guy as she slid into the backseat of the car, but she didn't need to. Her palms were instantly clammy and she felt nauseated. “What--” She forced herself to not question Paul. Find the anger. Anger's good. Anger's better than fear.
Integrity found herself sitting directly behind Evan. Bowman started the car and they pulled off once more. She tried to regulate her breathing and appear unconcerned. He might be able to see you in the side mirror. Get it together! All that mattered was that he not know how much he made her feel.
“Where to, sir?” Bowman asked stiffly.
“Head west on the interstate.” Evan's voice was blasé, apathetic. Fine, if he doesn't care that I'm here, then I don't care that he's here. He's just a piece of furniture. He's a travel pillow. That's it, a travel pillow. Travel pillows don't make you feel anything.
Conversation in the car all but stopped, only the most necessary of communications uttered. Integrity no longer chatted with Paul, nor did Paul and Bowman talk to each other. She wasn't sure if it was just her imagination or not, but it seemed like everyone in the car was tense. Everyone, except for Evan. Stupid Evan. Why did he have to tag along? I'm sure he'll be such great protection; he'll protect me all the way to being a lunch special!
The passing time seemed interminable, yet she was surprised when Bowman pulled the car in front of a small mobile home and turned the ignition off. We're here? This is it? She couldn't even see the nearest neighbor. She couldn't see much of anything except sagebrush.
The men all unbuckled and stepped out of the car, so she hurried to scramble out herself. “So, what's this? A safe house?” She tried to keep her tone upbeat and disconnected at the same time; she failed, sounding more like a sheep. Nice. Keep it up, she thought sarcastically.
Paul and Bowman were removing her “luggage” from the trunk. Evan strode to the front door of the house and started fiddling with a black box hanging from the door handle. Apparently he extracted a key from inside, because she heard him slide it into the lock and turn it. He entered the house and left the door ajar.
“What is going on?” Integrity hissed at her guards. “Why in the
heck is he here? “ She looked around at the flat landscape. “For that matter, why are we here?”
Paul ushered her into the house. “He's here because he can be; now we need to get in the house and out of view.”
“Who are we hiding from? There's no one!” She gestured at the expanse around them.
“Please just go in the house.” Paul was practically begging. Integrity complied.
As she walked through the front door, she entered a spacious room with vinyl flooring and a fireplace off to the left. Through an arch she caught a glimpse of what she supposed was the kitchen. “Nice,” she said sarcastically as she looked around at the furniture. She walked over to a bookshelf and looked at the titles it offered.
Evan walked through an open door that adjoined the kitchen/dining room. “That's your room,” he said, barely glancing at her as he flopped onto the couch. “Sheets are in the in closet in the hall.” He pointed behind her.
Not wanting to comply with any of his instructions, explicit or not, Integrity walked away from the hallway and into the kitchen. She was dying to see her bedroom, but she didn't want Evan to know that. She looked out of the window over the sink. “A corral?” she said quietly. “We really are in the middle of nowhere.”
Out of curiosity, and a lack of anything better to do, Integrity opened the fridge. She was surprised to find it fully stocked with all of the foods that she liked. “Huh.” She closed the fridge
Paul walked into the kitchen and closed the blinds. She looked at him with raised eyebrows. He looked nervous. “Would you like to see your room?” He was obviously avoiding her unspoken question.
“Sure.” She followed him into the room, secretly pleased that Evan had to be aware that she'd do things for Paul that she wouldn't for him.
The room was average sized, with one tall window off to the side. Paul quickly crossed the room and pulled the curtains into place. Integrity shrugged and opened one of the two doors on her right. The first led into a luxurious bathroom, complete with separate bathtub and shower. She whistled. “Fancy schmancy,” she said over her shoulder to Paul. When she walked back into the bedroom, Paul was hanging a few of her clothes in the walk-in closet, the second door she had not yet opened.
“I don't think you'll be needing these,” he said as he shoved the dresses as far to the back as they would go.
Integrity noticed a good selection of clothes hanging in front of the dresses. “Ooh, pants! Yes!” She grabbed a pair of jeans that were hanging in the front. “Wait a minute,” she said slowly. “These are guy pants.”
“Uh, yes, they are.” Paul looked uncomfortable, but tried to appear cheerful. “You're going to be a boy while we're here.” He clapped his hands together, as though that would make his statement any easier to swallow.
“A boy?” Integrity stumbled over the words. “Hang on, I know I'm not the most feminine girl out there, and I really would like to get rid of the dresses, but a boy?” She was speechless for a moment, though not silent. Irregular sounds emanated from her randomly opening and shutting mouth until she said, “I don't even look like a boy!” She tugged at her hair for emphasis.
Paul rocked back on his heels and stared at the floor. “Well, you will when we cut your hair off.”
Integrity sunk down onto the mattress, in a daze, then looked at the odd stains covering its surface and stood back up hastily. Thoughts raced through her head, but she kept them tightly confined inside her mind—after all, she didn't want Paul to think she was shallow or mentally handicapped. Finally she said, “You're going to cut my hair?”
Paul gave her a weak smile. “Unless you want Bowman to do it.”
Integrity laughed, sounding somewhat hysterical. She choked the sound off. “No, I think I'd trust you more. He'd probably give me a crew cut.”
“Well . . .” Paul was back to studying the things in the room.
“Not a crew cut!” She felt slightly sick. “Do you have any idea how lumpy my head is? You can't shave it!”
“Oh, it can't be that bad.” Paul seemed hopeful since Integrity wasn't running screaming from the room, though she had considered that possibility.
“Feel!” She gestured emphatically at her scalp.
“Are you serious?” Paul asked incredulously. When she nodded violently, he said, “Okay,” and reached toward her head, looking as though he were messing with a poisonous snake. “Oh!” He couldn't keep the surprise, or consternation out of his voice. “What happened there?”
“I fell against a corner of a wall.”
“Yeah, I can tell that. It's a perfect ninety-degree angle. Did you pass out?”
“No, but I sure wasn't gonna tell my parents—I didn't want to go to the hospital or have them make me wear a helmet or something.”
His fingers moved on to another abnormality. “And here? What happened here?”
She pushed his hands off her head impatiently and said, “I don't know, okay? But my whole head's like that.” Grumbling, she said, “Jeez, you'd think you'd never hit your head before.”
“Not hard enough to alter my skull shape.”
She stuck her tongue out at him, then laughed resignedly. “So, no crew cut. Deal?”
“Deal. I don't think my stomach can take seeing what your head looks like under all that hair.”
Đ
Integrity had already sprayed the mattress with disinfectant, much to Paul's amusement, and was now wrestling with a brand-new fitted sheet. “Is this even the right size?” She grabbed the now empty package in frustration, then threw it back on the ground. “You will fit,” she growled at the sheet as she began stretching it once more. She finally succeeded in getting all four corners to stay on the bed and stood up with a sigh. She moved to brush her hair back, but met only air. This is going to take some getting used to, she thought with a frown. She walked a step or two to the side, so that she could see herself reflected in the bathroom mirror. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that I was a boy. She ran a hand back and forth over her very short hair, then sighed and returned to making the bed. No point in grumbling over it. Suck it up, girl. I mean, boy.
She was already making a conscious effort to move and speak like a guy, though it wasn't easy and she felt very awkward. She knew it was important that she pass as male, especially if she ever wanted the curtains open—all it took was one person catching a glimpse of her having a “girl” moment, and their cover would be blown. I really don't want to get back in that stinking car already, so I have to make this work.
Finished with the bedding, she walked back out into the kitchen/dining room. She could see Evan sitting on the couch in the living room, reading a book. The open curtains behind him allowed the setting sun to pour directly onto him. She walked over to Paul, who had stood up from the kitchen chair he had been using, and whispered, “What's up with that?” She gestured toward Evan. “Aren't you guys supposed to turn to dust or something if the sun hits you?”
Paul snorted. “No, that's just a myth. It's just easier to kill people at night, so that's when most vampires hunt.”
She felt a twinge at the mention of murder, but it was growing fainter. “Ah. What about wooden stakes, garlic, all that jazz?”
He shook his head. “Nope. All completely pointless.”
“Good. Then I can eat this.” Integrity walked over to a cupboard and pulled out a boxed pasta dinner that had a garlic and olive oil sauce on it. She started pawing around in the cupboards to find a pan, secretly hoping that the noise would irritate Evan. “Hey, wait a second,” she said, slamming the pan down on the stove. “Why won't a wooden stake to the heart kill you? It'd kill me.”
Paul glanced nervously over his shoulder toward Evan, then moved closer to her and said, “It's actually pretty hard to kill us. We can kind of put ourselves back together, no matter what you do. I mean, we're not really alive, so how can we really die?” He paused for a split second, then added, “Miss.” He glanced toward the front room again.
Integrity
exhaled noisily. “Oh, no, we're not starting this crap again.” Forcing herself to move forward, she stalked into the front room and stood looking at Evan. He made no sign that he was aware of her, so she cleared her throat belligerently. When he looked up, she said, “Since we're all undercover her, and I'm supposed to be a guy, it doesn't make sense for Paul and Bowman to bow and scrape to me, does it?” Evan just stared at her, his face passive. “Okay, then.” She tried to sound assured, as though he had agreed with her. Discomfited, she spun on her heel and stalked back into the kitchen. “Now, knock it off,” she hissed at Paul, her cheeks flaming.
“Yes, sir,” he whispered. She tried to punch him in the arm, but he moved out of the way, laughing silently.
Đ
As time passed, Integrity grew to actually enjoy herself in her new life. After some serious debate, she was permitted to venture outside, under escort. As the days passed and they continually met no one, the escort was reduced to only one or two rather than all three. Evan rarely accompanied her, which only made her time happier.
Only one incident marred her otherwise happy existence, and, naturally, it involved Evan. She awoke one night, she wasn't sure why, and had noticed a dark form in her room. She had sat straight up in bed and had called for Paul. As her bedroom door had opened, allowing light to pour through the aperture, she had been able to distinguish Evan's features. He stared at her stonily for a moment or two, then calmly walked from the room.
“What was that all about?” Paul muttered after Evan had left the room. Integrity, speechless, had held her hands in the air and shook her head in confusion. When he moved to leave the room, she tensed. “Do you want me to stay?” he then asked, looking warily at the still open door.
“Yes,” she managed to choke out. Paul left long enough to grab a chair from the kitchen table, then he stationed himself in the same spot that Evan had occupied such a short time before. It was a comfort to Integrity, but she was not able to rest soundly for several nights afterward.
Integrity: Book One of the Destine Series Page 17
