by Fleur Smith
I held a letter with an address linked in some way to Clay.
That he had left for me to find.
Only me.
Tremors took hold of my body—although I couldn’t say whether they were from excitement or fear.
It was impossible to know whether the address was where he was, where he would be, or even whether it was a trap to lure me to my death, but the simple fact was that he’d taken the time to write down that address. Then he’d gone to the effort of placing it in the one place in the one town where he could reasonably expect me to return eventually—the one place where there was something to cause me to return. That alone told me there was something significant about it.
If only I knew what.
For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine that it wasn’t a trap and wondered what our third reunion might be like. Would he be able to forgive the mistakes I’d made over the years? Would we ever be able to go back to what we’d had? The idea wasn’t entirely impossible. After all, he’d been able to see beyond the prejudices instilled in him before.
Knowing him as I did, there wouldn’t have been a doubt in my mind we might have another chance at love, if only I hadn’t done some unforgivable things in order to survive.
One truly unforgivable.
Louise’s face and tortured screams filled my mind. The disturbing images swirled around, and the scent of the smoke echoed through the motel room. I twisted off the bed and rushed to the bathroom moments before my stomach curled inward on itself, and I purged what little food I had consumed.
How can he ever forgive you for that?
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and met my eye in the mirror.
“I can’t even forgive myself, why should he?” I turned away from the mirror, unable to look at physical indicators of what I was. If I’d been normal—if I’d been human—Clay and I could already have our happy ever after.
Monsters like me didn’t get those though—we didn’t deserve them.
Lost in the past, I padded back to the bed and looked at the note from Clay. Ever so carefully, holding just the very edges in case my tortured mind ignited the page, I folded it up and pushed it back into the envelope. It was dangerous to dwell too much on any potential hidden meaning. The more I thought about Clay, and about us, the stronger the memories that haunted me became the more power they gained, and the easier they could hurt me. The easier he could.
With my head and heart both filled with memories of how perfect we’d been when we were together, my desire grew to simply wait in one place long enough for him to catch up with me and just suffer whatever consequences that choice brought.
My heart whispered deadly thoughts to my mind. If my offering myself up for death gave me a chance to be connected with Clay again, even for just an hour, maybe it would be worth the cost. Death at the hand of a one-time lover sounded far more pleasurable than a continued life in the shadow of his hatred.
Or worse, his potential apathy.
Maybe you can throw away your life so easily, the sunbird responded from deep within me. The threat in her voice was clear and reached its intended mark. But what about his?
It was a reminder of the dream I’d had so often—the one where he was trying to destroy me only to end up in danger himself. It was the only thought that could instantly send me running away from him again. It was a very real possibility that it wouldn’t be my life in danger. No matter how readily I might have been able to accept my own fate if it meant more time with Clay, I couldn’t bear the responsibility of his death. If I had to try, I was certain the guilt that plagued me over his sister’s death would become an almost carefree mindset compared to the madness that would haunt my remaining years.
Determined to ignore the temptation the letter brought, I shoved it into the bottom of my backpack. Even as I did, every minute of my time on the run weighed down on me at once, crushing me under the weight of loss and sorrow. The reality was there was no way for me to escape from my past and run back to happier times. There was no end to this life for me, not until my death.
A death the sunbird wouldn’t readily allow.
She was within me, ready to protect me against all threats to my life—including any that I invited.
The exhaustion I’d been beating back for so long sprung at me in my weakness and I couldn’t fight it even a second longer. I ignored every rule I had followed so carefully for so many years. I didn’t pack. I didn’t prepare to leave as quickly as I could.
Instead, I just pulled back the blanket on the thin motel mattress and climbed underneath, cocooning myself away from the world. I decided that tomorrow, I would start anew. Tonight, just for one night, I would let the darkness in and allow my memories to claim me completely.
CHAPTER TEN
“CLAY!” ONCE MORE, I woke with a start and with his name on my lips. Just like he had so often in my dreams, he’d tried to destroy me only to suffer the consequences of his choice.
Opening my eyes, I was reminded once again that there was a time when Clay would be beside me as I woke from my nightmares. He was always ready to ease my fear and help me back to sleep with whispered apologies and hushed declarations. Now my nightmares were worse and I had to wake alone in an empty bed with a broken heart. I rolled over in the darkness and tried to force myself back to sleep.
When the light of dawn broke, I tried to motivate myself to get out of bed early, but my mind rebelled. It wanted to sleep and to dream—to live in the places of wishful longing, where things were better. Places where a life with Clay was still a possibility. Morning had brought with it the bleak reality that our time together was long behind me.
Or is it? He did leave you an address.
The possibility that the letter was a trap had crossed my mind numerous times as I woke during the night, but something about that assumption just didn’t feel right. There were a thousand smaller, subtler traps that Clay could have set for me; ones I would have stumbled into long before realizing what they were. Even the cemetery would have been the perfect place to set such a sting.
But maybe that’s his plan.
It was possible that he’d designed the letter specially to lure me to him with a false sense of security. If so, it was likely that he thought I would unknowingly walk to my death.
If only there was some way I was able to get close enough to see him again without falling victim to any plan for revenge. Maybe then, I could use my intimate knowledge of him to work out his plan long before he could spring any trap. Keeping us both safe.
Reluctantly, I pulled myself up to a sitting position before scrubbing my face with my hands. After spending the last few months living in the past and making stupid choices, I needed to clear my mind and plan my next step. My sentimentality had opened up old wounds; the pain and danger were taking control of my choices. I needed to go back to being unfeeling and uncaring, but I couldn’t do that while my memories so firmly ensnared my mind.
Dragging myself from bed, I organized my day within my head. As I did, I resigned myself to the fact that my heart wasn’t going to cooperate with my plan to move on from the letter. In compromise, I threw myself into my familiar routines. After I’d finished packing, I wiped down every surface in the motel to ensure that I hadn’t left any traceable prints.
Keeping a careful lookout around me, I walked toward the front motel desk to check out. I paused when I noticed a patrol car parked under the awning near the office.
I wasn’t certain whether they were there for me or something completely unrelated, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t risk getting close to any law enforcement just in case they were savvy about the Rain. For any that were, the heat that rolled off my body alone would have raised suspicions, especially with my heart pounding fiercely against my ribcage. And even if they weren’t, there were enough strikes against my name that any officer would probably give his left arm to be the one to arrest me.
“Murderer.” The word had been associated with me for s
o long now that it was extremely possible I was high on multiple most wanted lists.
Backtracking hastily, I moved toward the room I’d rented and looked for other exits. Plans and backups formed in my mind with each step. Placing my hand underneath the hem of my shirt, I grabbed the motel key card with material covered fingers and wiped it off before dropping it where I stood. Trying to appear nonchalant, I walked toward the end of the building as speedily as I dared without drawing attention to myself.
“Hey, you!” A policewoman who’d just stepped out from the motel office called after me.
Without even risking a glance over my shoulder to judge how far away she was, I kept moving. I wasn’t sure what she wanted, she might have just been trying to tell me that I’d dropped my key, but I couldn’t take the chance. I increased my pace a little, not yet running because that would definitely draw suspicion. Instead, I followed the corridor until it made a small left turn. As soon as I was confident I was out of her direct line of sight, I broke into a run.
Racing down the hallways, I turned to follow the emergency exit signs for the back of the building. I found a fire door and pushed through it, not caring whether it set off an alarm. I hoped to be long gone before backup of any sort arrived.
Needing to put distance between myself and the policewoman, I raced around the pool toward the six-foot brick wall that surrounded the back of the motel. When I reached the towering concrete barrier, I scrambled over it with as much speed as I could gather. I landed on the footpath on the other side, right next to another patrol car. I didn’t even wait to get my balance before rushing off in the opposite direction. Cries of confusion followed me, but I didn’t dare risk a backward glance that would do nothing to ease my mind and would only slow me down.
With my blood pounding in my ears, I ran until my feet ached and my head throbbed in time with the rhythm of my heart. I didn’t stop until my stomach protested and I didn’t have an ounce of energy to take another step.
When I stopped, I glanced around me. I was on a wide stretch of road where the houses were larger and stood farther apart. I’d left Lexington behind me and, according to a sign ahead, was on my way to Winchester, Kentucky.
Forcing my body to keep moving despite the pain and protests, I examined each of the houses that I passed, looking for some place I could hide. The first three that I walked by all had fairly extensive security. The fourth one I came to was smaller than the rest—possibly belonging to someone who had lived out of the main city before it became trendy or else someone who wanted to look like they could afford a McMansion but didn’t quite have the means. Either way, with its unkempt gardens and ankle-high grass I figured it was exactly what I needed. Provided they had some sort of building in the backyard that I could stay in, it would be a perfect place for me to hide off the grid while I planned my next move.
Skirting along the fence, I remained on alert for guard dogs or security cameras as I crept to the back of the house. Almost instantly, I spotted a single garage-sized shed at the back of the garden. I listened carefully for any shouts or noises to indicate someone nearby had seen me. Once I was certain that all was clear, I jimmied the lock with my trusty switchblade and slipped inside.
Only a small shaft of muted sunlight was able to break through the grime on the solitary window of the shed. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. As soon as they had, I assessed my choice in accommodation.
A thick layer of dust that blanketed a majority of the contents of the building suggested that the owner didn’t often stray into the small space and that I’d made a good choice. I hoped it meant that I could stay for a few quiet days. It had everything I looked for in a suburban hideaway, somewhere I could secrete myself and feel at least marginally safe. After the heat had died down—if it wasn’t just my paranoia causing me to imagine the worst in the situation—I would move on and try to find somewhere to camp.
I decided that as long as I was smart about my comings and goings, I should be able to avoid prying eyes. It wouldn’t be nearly as comfortable as a motel, but the lack of amenities wouldn’t kill me. After all, I’d spent weeks sleeping underneath bridges and even the open sky before, so I was able to make the best of any situation. At the very least, I had a roof over my head and some shelter from the elements.
I lifted up one corner of a tarp that covered a faded green riding lawnmower and fanned it out a little to make a temporary shelter just in case any prying eyes looked in through the filthy window. The space under the tarp had a faint scent of oil and mulch, which wasn’t entirely pleasant, but it would give me a view of both the roller door at the front of the shed and the side door I’d used to break in. In order to feel safest, I set up my mini-camp so that I could keep watch on the door but would also be able to easily slip farther back into the clutter if necessary.
Resting the back of my head against the lawnmower’s seat, I contemplated my next move. As much as I tried to push it out of my head and concentrate only on the future, Clay’s letter played on my mind. I wanted to figure out what it might mean—had he decided to forgive me and wanted me to meet him at that address? He’d never been so cryptic before.
People change.
I scoffed. “You’ve got that right.”
After all, he’d also cared for me once. A long time ago.
A scuttling sound near me made me jump. I wheeled around just in time to see the thick tail of a rat disappear into the clutter.
“Great, I’m going to be sharing quarters with vermin.”
For a brief moment, I contemplated going on a rat-hunt. Then I resigned myself to the fact that there probably wasn’t only one—especially given the length of the grass outside.
I’ve had worse roommates, I reminded myself. And it’s only for a day or two.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WHEN THE SKY dulled, shifting from day into night, it thrust the shed into complete darkness. Even the moon hid its light. The depth of the darkness, gave me the confidence to do a little extra exploration.
I climbed out of my hiding spot and crept through the gloom, using my memory of the placement of the objects around me to navigate my way to the door without making any noise. Pushing it open as quietly as possible, I crept through the opening, shrinking back into the darkness when it opened too wide and metal scraped against metal and issued a high-pitched, creaking noise. With my breath caught in my throat, I waited to see if the sound had drawn the suspicion of anyone inside the house.
One second.
Two.
Three.
I counted all the way to ten before releasing the breath I was holding with a silent sigh. The burgeoning ache of hunger in my stomach forced me into action, and I moved again. Before I risked creeping any closer to the house to raid it for food, I flicked my ever-present hood up over my hair, ensuring that it covered the distinctive shades that would capture and magnify any stray light.
After wedging a stick under the door to prop it open so that it didn’t slam closed and block my way back to my bag, I crept toward the house. The windows I could see were all darkened, and I hoped that it was a sign the house was either empty for the night or the residents were already asleep. Desperate for food, I edged toward the large sliding glass doors that opened into the kitchen. I walked with practiced care, mindful there might be security lights positioned over the back door.
Almost as if my thoughts alone had willed it into existence, a motion sensor clicked on the lights and bathed the area in front of the glass doors with a bright glow. I dashed to one side, hiding in the shadows along the back wall of the house.
In an attempt to get cover, I pressed my back firmly against the bricks. When I was certain I was hidden, I turned my head toward the beam of light to spot any possible threat long before it developed.
Another light flicked on, this time from inside the house. A moment later, the sliding door of the kitchen cracked open and a teenage boy stepped out. I tried to push myself closer to the wall behind
me, pressing so hard against it that I could feel every inch of the rough surface catching hold of me and biting into my clothing. I even spread my fingers against the coarse bricks as if doing so would allow me to hold myself closer to the wall.
Holding my breath, I watched as the boy stepped out into the halo of light. He was a little shorter than me and as thin as a sapling. He’d spiked his hair up into a single ridge that ran along the top of his head. The light flooding him from behind made it appear almost white, but a hint of a honey-brown color became evident as I squinted to see him better. As he turned his head from left to right to scan the backyard, I tried to guess at his age. He was definitely old enough to be in high school, maybe a junior, but too young to pose too much of an immediate threat to me.
“There’s no one here, Mom!” he shouted back into the house. “I told you this stupid thing’s broken!”
A female voice replied, but couldn’t make out the words.
“You just wait,” the boy muttered under his breath. “One day I’ll go, and you’ll have to do this stuff by yourself.”
The boy glanced around again and ended up facing my direction. There was a moment that passed where I swore our eyes had met. He squinted into the darkness where I stood, and I didn’t even dare to breathe. I waited for him to call out to his mother or charge toward me to confront me. Instead, he blinked and turned back inside with a small shake of his head.
Once I was certain that he wasn’t watching anymore, I collapsed forward and rested my hands on my knees, breathing out heavily as I thought about just how close a call it had been. I stared wistfully at the kitchen but decided that feeding my growling stomach just wasn’t worth the risk. Not while the boy was awake, and no doubt now on alert.
For a moment, I considered leaving the property, but it was too dark on the road; there weren’t many lights lining the street and they had thinned with every step I’d taken earlier. Without even the moon’s guidance it was too dangerous to walk along the upcoming country roads. I decided I’d try to squeeze in a few hours of sleep and then leave before dawn. There was always the option of getting a meal at a diner or some other place when I’d gotten a few towns away. My stomach growled angrily at me and turned in on itself in response.
