by E Hall
“Even though we’re leaving in this.” Corbin’s expression is grim like he’s still questioning whether the minivan is roadworthy.
“Don’t worry, I have roadside assistance,” I say.
“Should I ask what go-go juice is?”
“Oil. There’s a small leak. But listen, I learned how to drive in this thing, we’ve gone to all the national parks on the east coast, Canada once, and used it to move house seven times. I have full confidence that Rhonda will make it for the next sixty-two hours.” I point to the blue highlighted line splitting the country that will take us to Mexico on the GPS. I pat the dashboard. “Don’t listen to him, you’ll do just fine,” I whisper to Rhonda.
“Talking to the car?” Corbin asks.
“Just giving her a pep talk. Anyway, this road trip together is a once in a lifetime experience. Bucket list material for sure.”
“Once in a lifetime is right,” Corbin says. “Let’s make a plan. We’ll take the wheel in shifts, only stopping for the bathroom and hopefully avoiding traffic and construction.”
“Sounds good,” I say as the minivan thunks over a pothole. “I won’t miss these weather-beaten roads. Rhonda is going to like the sun and sand in Mexico. I’m still wrapping my head around my parents going on a honeymoon to a secret place for magicals. Have you ever heard of it?”
“I’ve heard of places like it—not quite a resort the way humans think of them. More like a sanctuary. A haven, if you will.”
I gaze at the city lights and familiar sights as we drive away from Portsmouth. “Being back here, where the world as I knew it was, well, normal, with pizza and libraries and movie theaters, when I now know that the fantastic, bizarre, unusual, and otherworldly is real, feels kind of weird,” I say as we put miles behind us.
“Just think, to me this world is fascinating if not a little boring,” Corbin says using our wolf way of communicating to highlight his point.
“I’ve always been a daydreamer. I secretly wanted to study creative writing. Maybe pen a novel—I wrote a short story about dragons. If someone had asked me if magic was real, I might have said our imaginations are a magical force in this world. How wrong I was.”
As I merge onto the highway, a disagreeable cah-thunk, followed by a glug, glug issues from somewhere in the guts of the minivan. “I know that sound. Rhonda is thirsty.”
Corbin eyes the fuel gauge. “Looks like we have plenty of gas.”
“Um, that’s not exactly accurate. Mom and I learned that once when we went Christmas shopping, but halfway to the mall, we ended up spending two hours on the side of the road, in the cold.”
After filling up the tank, I go in the convenience store and fill my arms with road trip snacks, including Chex-mix, red licorice Vines, Funions, and tons of candy. I even stock up on Cherry Chapstick. Outside, Corbin is behind the wheel, looking very much out of place in the minivan.
I giggle. “Minivan life looks good on you.”
He grumbles.
“Okay, now the fun can begin. We can play car-eoke, collect license plates from all fifty states, and—” I pop the glove box and pull out the tattered Trivial Pursuit cards my mom and I would amuse each other with when traveling. “Question: a piece of paper can be folded no more than blank number of times?”
“The magic number is seven.” His voice doesn’t contain the playful note I was hoping for.
“Ding, ding, ding. You got it right.”
I ask him a few more as the sun begins to fade. Corbin eventually goes quiet, concentrating in the rush hour traffic, giving me time to wonder about my father’s family—the wolf and fae that started this whole thing. What were they like? Brave to be in love with each other when it was forbidden. What happened to them? Where are they now? Wolves and fae can live an extraordinarily long time.
I’m not sure what kinds of answers I’m going to get, but only hope we’re not like tigers chasing their tails, a thread, or a hope that my father is out there.
When we leave the cityscape and traffic behind, opening up to country roads, heading west, I say, “Corbin, what are you thinking about?”
He’s been different for the last week or so. More distant. Back in Concordia, I chalked it up to his duties to the pack and the stress of the werewolf killing humans. Now that we’re here, I want to think it’s because he’s out of his comfort zone. But Corbin is an Alpha wolf. I can’t imagine anything making him feel anything less than his strong, confident self—not even a car that isn’t polished to a high shine.
If I learned anything from my mother, it’s that relationships can be tricky. I will not let whatever is going on, especially if it has to do with me, go unspoken.
The silhouette of his shoulders lift and lower. “This incredible world you live in. The cars, the lights, pizza, libraries, and the movie theaters,” he says, echoing my comment from earlier.
“It’s amazing, huh?” I ask, struck by the fresh wonderment as seen through her eyes of what was so ordinary I took it for granted. “Do you think we’ll make it?”
“To Mexico?” he asks. “That’s up to Rhonda.”
“No, I mean us. Will we survive this thing?”
His hand finds mine. Both of our fingers are cold but pressed together they quickly warm.
“We will,” he says in the tone of an alpha.
“But I’m kind of having an existential crisis,” I say, suddenly overwhelmed. “I’m a hybrid magical. Will I live a long and happy life? What if there’s something I don’t know? What if there are complications?”
“There will be challenges and difficulties. There always are. I’ve learned that lesson a few times over. But we’ll deal with them as they come—together.”
The trepidation I’ve felt starts to smooth out.
“When it comes to magic, whether you’re wolf, fae, or vampire, just remember you always have a choice. It may not always be easy, but you are free as you let yourself be.”
“But what if I forget or lose it and do something without thinking?” My voice is thin as I recall the power that seemed to flood out of me when I killed Amanda. It almost felt like the power was being summoned from me.
Corbin merges into another lane, passing a tractor-trailer as the smooth voice on the GPS tells him to take a left exit onto Interstate 90, orienting us west, toward the Pacific. The Atlantic is now at our backs. I wonder if someday I’ll be able to put it all of this strangeness and uncertainty behind me too.
Chapter 14
Corbin
Kenna and I chat a while longer about the states we’re passing through as rain falls and the wipers swish back and forth, clearing a way forward.
She tells me about road trips she and her mother took. All of that leads her to the beginning of us. Our pasts were so different, and yet here we are, together.
Eventually, the shushing of the car tires over the wet road rocks her to sleep. Unlike the vehicles I have back in Concordia, this one is barebones. Just a radio that I tune to a late-night talk show. Night owls debate the solution to a love triangle. I try to imagine the speakers’ faces, their lives, but no amount of focus helps me tune out my thoughts.
When I first encountered Clove, I feared he was interested in Kenna. I understand her trepidation because even though she says she’s claimed her wolf, there’s no telling if she’ll suddenly activate her other magic and change her mind. I worried Clove might try to edge his way in and we’d end up in a love triangle like on the radio. No thank you.
How very wrong I was.
This brings to mind the deadline with the Council, Greyson, the Klave, and the werewolf.
My thoughts follow this loop, digging a rut that doesn’t bring me any closer to a solution about how to end this madness when the windshield wipers clearing the damp glass freeze, pointing diagonally toward two-o’clock. The lights on the dash dim and the steering stiffens. The minivan suddenly moves in slow motion. Thankfully, there aren’t any other cars on the road, and I ease to the shoulder. In the dim light
, I squint my eyes to read the gauges. The gas display says there’s still three quarter of a tank even though it isn’t reliable. My cheeks puff as I exhale. I rub the back of my head.
Kenna’s voice is scratchy in my ear as she rubs her eyes, fuzzy from sleep. “Did you break Rhonda?”
“No, it just—”
“She stopped?”
Kenna checks the mileage. “I don’t think we’re out of gas. We should’ve been good for another hundred miles or so.”
We get out to find a thin layer of snow crunching underfoot and pop the hood.
“I’ll call roadside assistance.” Kenna shivers.
“First, shine the phone light in here, please. Maybe I can figure out what’s going on.”
I comment on it possibly being an issue of the carburetor or fuel injector. The look she gives me suggests I may as well be speaking a foreign language. “Remember, I’ve been around before there were cars.”
“I’m sorry. I thought Rhonda would get us there.” Her crestfallen expression causes my heart to squeeze.
“We will. The van can be fixed.”
“But can we fix our world?”
“I have to believe the answer is yes.” I wrap my arms around Kenna, holding her close to keep warm. We gaze up at the stars, chasing away the what-ifs away, at least for now.
Kenna calls roadside assistance. She tells them our location in western New York state. After hanging up, she says, “Roadside assistance can’t get here until seven a.m. That’s nearly an hour. They said it has something to do with us being out of New Hampshire so it’s a routine call during business hours.”
A truck rumbles by. Even though I’ve been waging a war with myself to keep my distance so our bond doesn’t strengthen further and so Greyson can’t use my love for his daughter against me, I cannot deny the pull she has on me. I’ll do anything to see her smile.
I crouch down and ball up some of the snow. I lob it toward her arm.
She whirls, shouting, “Hey!” But a smile lights up her face.
I duck behind the minivan and scoop up more of the snow, patting it into a ball, ready for her to make the slightest move.
The headlights from a car on the opposite side of the highway betray her shadow as she tosses a snowball at me. I try to run for cover, but I’m too late. The snow knocks into my shoulder.
I follow her laughter as I make chase, picking up snow as I go, hastily shaping balls, and letting them fly. In a field next to the road, a large boulder provides protection. I arm myself with a load of snowballs before sneaking around the side.
Kenna was waiting for me and clobbers me with three perfectly aimed snowballs.
We laugh and hoot, tossing snow at each other until our fingers lose feeling and stop bending.
My wolf wants to let loose and howl.
The sky gradually lightens to the downy gray of the early morning. We cease our battle and wander back to the minivan, catching our breath. The start of early morning commute traffic whizzes by.
We stand on the edge of the road as the citrus glow of the sun peels itself from the horizon. The dawn warms my face, kindling a deep affection for Kenna as I glimpse her expression, watching in awe as the new day begins.
Turning slightly, I position myself so I can meet her eyes, lit up by the dawn. Her gaze lifts to mine, looking at me through her long lashes. A feeling lands in my chest. I cannot deny my potent feelings for her. But I must. At least until all of this is behind us. But what if it isn’t? What if I fail and have to turn her over to the Council or the Klave captures her? These fears are foreign to my Alpha wolf. But there is only one thing he wants. Her.
I drop my mouth toward hers, inhaling that cherry Chapstick scent that sends me into a tizzy. Her breath whispers across my cheek as her slight smile magnetizes me to her. We hover there for a moment longer before our gazes meet and then our lips.
My fingers trail her jawline as her arms circle around me. My hands find their way to the back of her head and then neck, shoulders, and low back. I draw her closer and the kiss deepens.
My wolf growls with delight.
Kenna draws back. A smirk tugs the corners of her mouth. “I heard that.”
I tip my head back and chuckle. “Before long we’ll be able to communicate fully in the wolf-way when shifted and in physical form.” My voice is rough. I want more. More of Kenna, but I’m afraid if I have too much, I’ll make a mistake, betray her, hurt her, or have her taken from me.
But my wolf won’t let me think. Instead, he insists I say what I need to with a kiss. To tell her how I truly feel, deep down. Our lips meet again and it’s like reaching past the sun and into infinity.
A honking sound startles us apart as a tow truck rumbles up and parks behind the minivan. A burly guy in need of a shave exits and asks a few questions about the roadside assistance membership that only Kenna can answer.
“Nice car you got here,” he says with a chuckle.
“Needs a little work,” Kenna says.
He fills the tank with gas from a small red can.
“She sure gets thirsty,” Kenna says with apology in her voice and pink in her cheeks.
“When we get back, I’m buying your mother a new car.”
“She won’t let you. She’s fond of Rhonda the Honda. Remember what she said about trying to blend in?”
“Do you also remember what she said about living a life of luxury? She can’t say no to a gift.”
The gruff voice of the tow truck guy interrupts. “That should get you to the nearest petrol station.” The gas tank cover creaks shut. “Start ‘er up.”
I fish the key from my pocket and turn it in the ignition. There’s a slight drone punctuated by silence.
Kenna scoots me out of the way and gives it a try.
The tow truck guy looks under the hood and fiddles with things. “Dead battery.”
“She’s finicky about the cold,” Kenna says with chattering teeth.
The tow truck guy doesn’t seem amused.
The jump-start and the bonus gas soon gets us back on the road.
Kenna yawns. “I could use some freshly ground heaven.”
“Freshly ground what?”
“Awesome in a cup,” she clarifies.
“Is that like go-go juice but for people?
“Tall, dark, and handsome in the morning,” she purrs, leaning in.
“Ah, so you mean me?”
“Well, that’s always true. Right now, I mean brain brew, liquid survival, potion made from magic beans,” she adds, laughing. “Coffee helps me reality and reality is impossible without caffeine.”
I pull off at the next travel plaza. Our laughter crowds out a sudden knot in my stomach. My hackles lift. I sense a disturbance, but not nearby.
I get Kenna a coffee, and while waiting, the TV behind the sales counter blares with an international news report. “An American tourist went missing while hiking in a remote country called Concordia. It’s the fifth death in as many weeks. There aren’t any leads, but investigations are pending. Visitors to that area, be wary, something is killing these men, and it isn’t frostbite.”
I quickly pay and rush to find Kenna.
She gets behind the wheel, and I call Baker.
“You heard?”
“More like felt a disturbance, and then I heard a news report.”
“I see that you’re in New York.”
I fill him in on where we’re going.
“The Cadillac is still in New Hampshire.”
“Nice to know you’re tracking me.”
“It’s in a wolf’s nature. Also, can’t have our Alpha go missing.”
I have a feeling I’ll fall off the grid when we reach Bahia Magia. I tell him about the news report.
“It wasn’t just one. Three more hikers were discovered. Their names haven’t been released, but none of them were locals. Natural causes were ruled out. Foul play is suspected. I have a feeling Clint will be by any moment to launch the investigation.”
“We have to find the werewolf,” I say.
“Corbin, Amanda was our only lead. She’s dead.”
“If you can track me using technology, you can track the night howl using your wolf’s nature.”
Baker harrumphs.
“Yeah. We are Pack Hjalmor. Our job is to serve and protect our territory. We cannot let this happen again.” After getting off the phone, I heave a sigh.
Silence chills the car for the next minutes as the ribbon of highway fades behind us. I rake my hand across my face. Cars and trucks whip by, causing Rhonda to shiver in the slipstream.
I should be with my pack. If I were able to dedicate my full attention to tracking the werewolf, I’d be able to eliminate her. But I’m also up against the wall with the Council.
Kenna breaks the long silence as we head southwest. “I heard what Baker said about Amanda. I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”
My jaw ticks. “It’s not your fault. I have six of the best betas in the entire wolf-shifter world. They will find the night howl.”
She shifts uneasily in her seat. “Why do you sometimes call the werewolf a night howl?”
“The Accords made it so we can’t do what werewolves do, feast on human flesh under the full moon with one exception, a grim mage created a curse that can take possession of wolf shifters, causing them to succumb to their base nature.”
“If I’m not subject to the Accords, why aren’t you wolf shifter lunch?” she asks.
My brow forms an inverted V. “Good question.”
“Among many. Questions I’m afraid to know the answer to if what happened to Amanda is any indication.”
“That was an accident. We need to find someone to train you in your various powers.”
“Clove.”
“No. He’s—”
“Different. Yeah. I know. But he helped us out. We wouldn’t be on this trip if he didn’t tell us my father is a ghost,” she pauses and her voice lowers, “and I suppose all of those hikers would still be alive.” Kenna tears her eyes from the road. “Corbin, you should go back. I’ll find my father. You need to help the pack.”