by Pati Nagle
Just before four o’clock business picked up, and I had a line for a few minutes. It made me cranky, because I’d wanted to leave early. I tried to get through the customers as fast as possible, not really paying attention to who they were. When I saw a guy’s gray sweatshirt in front of me I didn’t look up at first, greeting him automatically as I finished entering the previous transaction.
“How can I …”
I froze as my gaze met his. Black eyes, all the way black from the pupil through the iris. He had the hood of the sweatshirt pulled up over his hair, but a few white wisps clung to his forehead. The killer.
= 8 =
The alben leaned toward me. “Do you have a car?”
My thoughts flicked toward Caeran, then as quickly away. I wanted to scream for help but the killer would hear.
Car. I pictured the Saturn, then pulled my keys out of my pocket and held them out to him. He smiled, eyes narrowing.
“Oh, no,” he said softly. “You are coming along.”
“I can’t leave work.”
“Make an excuse.”
I hesitated, trying to think of a way out. Suddenly my brain felt like it was on fire. I gasped, and it stopped just as fast before I could scream.
Come along, unless you want to feel that again.
I cringed. His voice told me a lot about him, things I didn’t want to know. He was hungry. He was impatient. At the core, he was totally self-driven and cared nothing about anyone else. Instinct screamed at me to get away.
The burning started again, just a tickle. I grabbed my pack and dashed for the staff lounge, and it stopped.
My breath came in short, sharp gasps as I hastily signed out. Half an hour early—maybe someone would clue into that. I hoped so. Where was asshole Dave when I needed him?
Lip balm, I thought as loudly as I could while I dug in my pack with shaking hands. Where’s my lip balm? My hand closed around a large cylinder and I pulled it out without looking, trying not to think. I shoved it in my pocket, found my lip balm and used it, then shrugged into my pack.
He was waiting by the lounge door, and fell into step with me. I walked toward the front entrance, which faced south. He pulled his hood forward and took out a pair of sunglasses. While he was putting them on, I glanced at the couch. It was empty.
I looked away, thinking about my car. I hadn’t gassed up, so it wouldn’t get far. It had less than half a tank.
We passed through the doors into the late afternoon sun. I glanced at the killer. He had his hands dug into the kangaroo pocket of his sweatshirt, the hood as far forward as it would go. He looked like the Unabomber.
I should have let him incapacitate me; Tony and the others would have taken care of me. Didn’t think of it soon enough.
Or maybe he would have just knocked them out, too, and grabbed me. I shivered.
Just survive, I thought over and over, not letting other thoughts into my head. I walked slowly, hoping that would keep me alive. Maybe someone would spot the killer, make a call. Maybe we’d pass a campus cop.
Why was I alone? Where was—just survive.
My car was parked in the lot behind my dorm. I walked up and unlocked the passenger door.
“Get in,” he said, standing by the open door. He watched as I walked around and got in the driver’s seat. I looked around, hoping to spot a cop or—someone. The parking lot was deserted.
Only after I’d closed the door did the killer get in. I cracked my window open, needing air, and sat still. My heart was racing and I felt a little woozy.
“Take me to the home of Miguel de Madera.”
I swallowed, feeling the blood drain from my face. “What?”
“I know you have been there.”
“It’s a long way.”
“Drive.”
I buckled my seat belt and started the car. This was not good. I did not like being in a car with this guy, even though I was in control of the vehicle. Didn’t the self-defense courses say never let them get you in a car?
He hadn’t fastened his seat belt. Maybe I could roll the car and kill him. Trouble was, I’d probably kill me, too.
That might possibly be my best option, I thought grimly. I backed out of the parking space.
As I pulled onto the boulevard he fastened his belt. I bit my lip and avoided looking at the gas stations we passed, keeping my thoughts on the freeway instead.
What did he want with Madera? Whatever it was—not good. Not good at all. I suspected that his wish to get to Madera’s was the only reason I was still alive. It followed that I’d be dispensable once we got there.
Just survive.
I loved the idea, but it was getting harder to visualize. The help I’d hoped for had not materialized, and the farther we got from campus the faster my hopes faded. I was on my own.
So. Review of options: no. Don’t think, just drive. A chance will arise.
I frowned. That sounded like wishful thinking.
A shiver of dread went through me. To keep from panicking, I started running through songs in my head, starting with every Gilbert and Sullivan patter song I could think of. Let him sort through that.
Traffic was light despite the nearness of rush hour. The miles flew past. Maybe I’d get stopped for speeding.
That hope faded as I passed the Bernalillo exit. Sometimes there were speed traps on I-25, but not usually on a week day. We had three or four hours of driving ahead. Less than an hour until sunset.
It would be good to get out of the car before then. Somehow.
I glanced at the gas gauge despite trying not to think about it. I shifted my attention to the speedometer instead. In a fit of spite I accelerated to eighty-five miles an hour, fifteen over the limit. My passenger didn’t seem to notice. It didn’t make me the fastest jerk on the road, and I chickened out on being truly reckless. Somehow I still hoped for escape.
That hope twisted in my stomach and I flinched away from the reasons why. Grabbed for The Mikado instead. The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra la…
I cruised past the three Santa Fe exits, keeping my eyes on the road and my brain engaged with music. We were now past my normal stomping grounds. The farther we got, the more tense I was starting to feel.
Partway through Glorieta Pass the car coughed. I glanced at the instrument panel. The little gas tank light had come on. The car coughed again.
“What is it?” demanded the killer beside me.
“We’re out of gas.”
I didn’t look at him, but I could feel his rage. I gripped the wheel, bracing for an attack, but it didn’t come.
“Take this exit.” He pointed toward the ramp we were approaching.
“There’s no—”
“Take it!”
A slam of pain accompanied his shout. I winced, and almost flinched out of my lane.
I took the exit, cruising to a halt at the stop sign on top of the ramp. He peered at the sign that called out Glorieta to the right, Pecos to the left. Glorieta was a tiny village—really just a bedroom community. No services.
“There is gas in Pecos?”
“Uh—yeah.”
“Go left.”
I turned the wheel and nearly stalled the car, but managed to coax it across the bridge and onto the back road to Pecos. Downhill, mostly. I coasted, instinctively saving the gas for the uphill stretches. We passed a historic marker and an old adobe building with crumbling walls. We were on level ground now, at the bottom of the canyon. I drove until the gas was gone and the car finally died. As we lost momentum I pulled onto the shoulder. The car drifted to a stop.
It was cold in the canyon, and darker. The hills and mesas hid the setting sun. I dropped my hands into my lap and sat still, waiting for the storm.
“How far to the gas?”
“I don’t know. A few miles, maybe.”
“Do you have a gas can?”
“No.”
He turned toward me in his seat. I stared out the windshield.
“So th
is is why you are so fond of music.”
His voice was acid. It drove my pulse faster, though I tried not to show it. My hand inched closer to my pocket.
Lip balm. Too dry.
I swallowed. Maybe I was about to die. Didn’t want to think about that.
“Yes, maybe you are.”
I could feel the anger in his voice, like a wave of heat washing over me. I cringed, then reached for the door—except my hand didn’t move. I was paralyzed.
“Or perhaps not die, not yet. But you will pay for your trick.”
He shifted closer. Inside I winced, since my body couldn’t. His breath—dank, unpleasant—reached me as he leaned toward me.
The back seat exploded.
= 9 =
I thought we’d been rear-ended, but the next second I realized we weren’t alone in the car. Caeran had come through from the trunk and launched toward the alben.
I cried out in fright, by which I learned I was no longer frozen. I scrambled out of the car, stumbling into the road. Luckily there was no traffic.
The car was jouncing with the struggle going on inside it. A flash of light made me flinch back. The air had that prickly feeling as if lightning was about to strike.
I stepped in front of the car, both to get out of the road and to try to see what was happening through the windshield. Another flash of light was followed by a burst of flame. I shrieked, terrified the Saturn would catch fire and explode. I could see thrashing forms inside, both in the front of the car now.
I wanted to do something to help Caeran but I didn’t know how. I took the pepper spray out of my pocket and turned it so I was ready to discharge it. My hands were shaking and my breath was ragged.
Another flash of light, this time accompanied by a dull thud. I could see the alben’s white hair; his hood had slipped off. He had Caeran pressed against the passenger door. I moved around to look more closely and through the side window saw his hands around Caeran’s throat.
“No!” I yelled.
Fear and caution both left me, replaced by fury. I grabbed the door handle and yanked it open.
Both of them tumbled out. The alben still had hold of Caeran, but his grip had loosened. Caeran broke it with a kick to the alben’s gut, and rolled away. I stepped in and emptied my pepper spray at the alben’s head.
I’d half feared the spray wouldn’t affect him, but his scream of pain was most gratifying. I coughed and stepped back, eyes stinging. Caeran got to his feet and moved to stand over the alben, holding out his hands.
The alben’s cries subsided. He went still.
I stared at Caeran, whose hands were glowing. A pale beam of light poured from them down toward the alben. Instead of illuminating him, it pooled over and around him, thick and slow like honey, obscuring him.
After a while, Caeran lowered his hands. The glow remained around the alben briefly, then began to fade.
I stepped up beside Caeran. “Is he dead?”
“No.” He glanced toward a house just down the road, and added in a low voice, “Not here.”
I hadn’t noticed the house. I wondered idly if the alben had. They might have gas right there, a can in their garage. Ironic.
I turned to Caeran. He was gazing into the woods, frowning thoughtfully.
“Th-thank you,” I said.
Suddenly I was shaking uncontrollably. Cold, and probably shock.
Caeran drew me into his arms, wrapping me in his warmth. I shuddered with relief, and struggled not to dissolve completely.
“I’m s-so glad you were there! I was so afraid.”
“I am sorry I could not let you know.”
“How did you keep him from sensing you?”
“We have ways of masking our khi.”
I sniffled and looked up at him. “Khi? Is that like chi?”
He nodded. “Same concept.”
“Let me guess. You had it first.”
His smile bloomed, filling my heart. “Yes.”
He smoothed my hair back from my face. I wasn’t shaking any more. I held still, hoping for a kiss, but instead he gently let me go and stepped away.
He crouched beside the alben and rolled him over. The alben’s face was blotched and red from the pepper spray. Caeran slid an arm under his shoulders.
The alben lunged.
I screamed as the killer sank his teeth into Caeran’s shoulder. Furious, I used the only weapon I had—the empty pepper spray can. I bashed it into the alben’s head as hard as I could, and raised my arm to hit again.
The alben looked up and snarled at me, blood on his teeth and lips, the whites of his eyes red as well. I flinched back, and the next instant he was gone, sprinting for the woods.
“Oh, God! Caeran!”
He was on his feet before I could try to help him. Blood ran down his shirt. His eyes blazed as he turned toward the woods.
“Caeran!”
“Get in the car and lock the doors.” He took one step forward and vanished.
“CAERAN!”
Gone. Shivering again, I ran to the car. Shoved the passenger door closed and hurried around to the driver’s side.
The dome light illuminated the wreckage: the back seat on the passenger side was down; the front seat lay back across it, maybe broken; and everything inside was singed. The stink of burned fabric made me grimace, but I got in and obediently locked up.
I cracked my window to let in some fresh air. I pulled out my cell phone, thinking I should call for help, but there was no coverage in the canyon. I turned it off so the battery wouldn’t run down. Having nothing more to do, I broke down in sobs.
I cried out of dread for Caeran, terror of the alben, and frustration. Cried until I was all cried out, then fumbled in the back seat for my box of tissues. The top few were scorched, but I found clean ones beneath them and mopped my face.
I was cold, and automatically tried to start the car so I could run the heater. Reminded of the lack of gas, I shed a few more frustrated tears, then calmed down. If—when—Caeran came back, I didn’t want him to find me blubbering. Or if the alben showed up, I’d need to defend myself.
I dug my foot-long flashlight from under the driver’s seat. It made a good club. I sat with it in my hands, shivering now and then, staring out the window toward the woods.
A few cars drove past. Each time, the sudden brightness of their headlights made me flinch. After what seemed like an hour, I saw movement in the woods. I gripped my flashlight, holding my breath.
The movement resolved into a figure walking toward me. No white hair; it was Caeran. I sighed with relief.
He tried the passenger door. I hastily unlocked it. Caeran opened it and looked in at the seat.
“Here,” I said, leaning across to pull the recline lever. The seat didn’t spring back up as it should have, but with Caeran’s help I got it upright and it seemed like it would stay. He sat down, pulled the door shut, and sighed wearily.
“Did you … find him?”
“No.” Caeran grimaced. “He is more resilient than I expected.”
Frowning, he turned and peered toward the trunk. I shone the flashlight into it through the opening behind the folded seat. I gasped as I caught sight of something, then realized it was Caeran’s pack.
Caeran reached a long arm back to fish the pack out, set it at his feet and faced forward again, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He looked tired, and that worried me.
“How’s your shoulder?”
He glanced at it, then touched it, smearing blood. It was still oozing. I grabbed a handful of tissues and pressed them to the wound. Caeran took over, and I got another tissue to wipe the blood off his fingers.
“Why didn’t it heal?”
Something flicked across his face, an emotion I couldn’t read. “It is deep.”
“You should get it looked at.”
He met my gaze, then looked out the windshield. He seemed to be thinking, so I waited. I was happy just to watch him, just to be with him. F
inally he sighed and turned his head.
“Will you take me to Madera?”
I hesitated, caught off guard by the request. “Won’t the alben follow us?”
“He knows how to get there. He may be on his way already.”
“If course I’ll take you, if that’s what you want.”
“I think it would be safest for you there, with all of us to protect you.”
My heart skipped. “Don’t worry about me.”
“I have no choice.”
A whisper of a smile accompanied his words, and my heart beat even faster. It thrilled me to think that he cared for me, though his determination to leave it at that drove me crazy.
“Caeran …”
I reached out a hand and touched his cheek. So enchanting, so breathtaking. He seemed always to be haunted by sadness, and that made me want to comfort him.
He covered my hand with his own, then gently pulled it away and pressed a kiss into my palm. My whole body approved of that. I swallowed, tingling.
“We need to find fuel, yes?” he said.
“Oh. Yeah. Um, maybe I could ask at that house.”
“I will come with you.”
“You look kind of scary at the moment.”
His eyes hardened. “I will come with you.”
“OK.”
We got out and I locked the car, shoving the keys in my pocket. It was dark now, and getting colder. All I had was my sweater. I shivered.
The lights shining though the windows of the house looked warm and enticing. Aromatic wood smoke added to the impression; cedar, I thought. It made me want to go inside and huddle by the fire.
Caeran stood behind me as I knocked on the door. Living out here, these folks probably didn’t get many visitors, and probably liked it that way. There was a long pause, but finally the door opened a crack and an older Hispanic man looked out.
“Hi,” I said. “Sorry to bother you. My car ran out of gas and I was wondering if you happened to have any. We just need enough to get to Pecos.”
He looked from me to Caeran and frowned. “No habla anglais.”
Dammit. He probably did speak English, just didn’t want to be bothered with us. I struggled to conjure up my high school Spanish.
