by Melissa Haag
“Shouldn’t we practice?” Carlos asked, following me.
“Not now. Not today. I’m tired of fighting.”
He kept quiet as I shut myself into the car again.
* * * *
I curled into the seat, turning slightly to stare out the window.
The sun started to set and cast shadows over the landscape. My stomach dipped at the haunting familiarity, and my gaze searched the darkness for the nonexistent, approaching horde.
I shivered and turned away from the window. My gaze settled on Carlos’ profile.
As usual, I felt nothing from him. How could he stand closing himself off like that? My emotions were all over the place. Sorrow. Anger. Regret. But most of all, loneliness.
“Can I lean against you?” I asked softly.
“Yes.”
There’d been no hesitation in his answer. Would he have answered differently if he knew why I wanted to lean on him?
I shifted in my seat, inching closer to him. His wide shoulders took up more than his share of space, so it didn’t take too much leaning to reach him. Warmth seeped through his shirtsleeve the moment my cheek rested on it.
Closing my eyes with a sigh, I pretended I leaned on Ethan. He was alive, and we were driving. His right shoulder wasn’t hurt anymore.
The ache in my middle eased. Eventually, my breathing slowed, and I drifted to sleep.
* * * *
The sudden stillness and absence of noise tickled my awareness. A door opened, and Carlos left me leaning against the seat. A moment later, an arm wrapped around my back and another slid under my legs. I floated for a second before he cradled me against his chest.
Struggling against sleep, I opened my eyes and looked up at him. Light chased the shadows on his face. Stubble coated the curve of his jaw. I couldn’t remember him ever having whiskers.
He glanced down at me, shadow covering his face, so I couldn’t read his expression.
“Go back to sleep. I have you.”
I sighed and closed my eyes again.
* * * *
As I rolled from my back to my side, something told me to burrow in deeper and let sleep pull me under once more. My eyes refused to be team players.
Dim light shone from behind drawn curtains, giving the space around me definition. A bed across from mine. A table with a lamp attached to the wall above it. I gazed at the unfamiliar sights as my groggy mind tried to place where I might be.
The car. Carlos carrying me.
I blinked at the bed across from me. As if sensing my regard, Carlos rolled from his back to his side so he faced me. He wasn’t under the covers but on top of them, fully clothed. I could just see his face. His eyes were open.
I could feel the fear of a young child and the annoyance from another person further away but nothing nearby.
“Where’d Grey sleep?”
“With Jim, I think.”
Carlos made no move to get out of bed, so I didn’t either.
“How long have we been here?”
“Since two. About six hours.”
“Anyone else awake?”
“No.” He was quiet for a moment. “How do you feel?”
“Fine.”
“I know you’re not fine. It’s been days since you sparred with anyone. You should—”
“No.”
He inhaled deeply then exhaled slowly.
“All right. Are you hungry?”
I shrugged.
“Get dressed,” he said, sitting up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He stood and left the room.
With a sigh, I left my warm nest and shuffled into the bathroom. The light nearly blinded me. I ignored my scabbed face in the mirror and paused at the sight of my brush, toothbrush, and paste neatly laid out on the counter. The bottom of each item was precisely in line with the rest.
Carlos had serious OCD going on.
It took me less than two minutes to use the toilet and brush my teeth and hair. I didn’t bother with clean clothes. What I’d slept in was good enough. I felt like crap on the inside and could care less how I looked on the outside.
In the main room, I found my runners at the end of the bed. I slipped on socks then laced up my shoes.
When I opened the hotel room door, Carlos waited in the hallway.
“Good morning, Isabelle,” he said softly.
I’d thought we’d already covered that in the room.
“Good morning.”
It seemed the correct response because he turned and started walking down the hall. I followed him, watching my feet. Carpet changed to tile, and I looked up. We were in a room just off the lobby. Actually, other than the change of flooring, it was essentially still the lobby. A counter ran along one wall. Three steamer trays, a clear display of muffins and mini-bagels, and a waffle maker summed up the hotel’s complimentary breakfast.
Carlos went to the steamers and lifted the first lid. I peeked around him and saw eggs. They smelled good, and my stomach actually rumbled. I picked up a plate and held it out like a kid in a cafeteria. He scooped a helping onto it then lifted the next lid. Bacon. He put three pieces on my plate. He lifted the final lid. French toast. I shook my head.
“I’d rather have a waffle.”
“I’ll start it for you. Sit down and eat.”
I did as he said. He brought me a cup of milk before he returned with a plate of his own and joined me.
Carlos watched me as I speared a clump of eggs and put it in my mouth.
The flavor took me off guard. It tasted good. My stomach rumbled until I finished the eggs. I set down my fork, using my fingers to bite into a piece of bacon. The saltiness was delicious. I chewed slowly, wondering why this food tasted so different. I wasn’t starving. I’d been eating. A little.
I realized the food hadn’t changed. I had. I was still angry, still devastated, but something was different.
A beep distracted me. I started chewing again and watched Carlos get up and go to the waffle maker. The thing he brought back was the size of my head. Probably the right portion size for werewolves.
Carlos set the plate before me then sat. I drowned the waffle in syrup and took a bite. It was good, just like the eggs had been. We ate in silence, and I tried not to think too much. When I did, my thoughts always found a way back to Ethan.
Just before I took my last bite, Clay, Gabby, Emmitt, Michelle, and Jim came in.
“I smell pancakes,” Jim said. He looked at Carlos and me for confirmation.
“Waffles,” I said when Carlos remained quiet.
“Just as good.” Jim playfully pushed his brother out of the way to get to the waffle maker first.
I turned away from their playful antics and waited for Carlos to finish. When he stood, he took both our plates.
“We’re supposed to meet in room 237 at ten,” Emmitt said to Carlos when he noticed us getting ready to leave.
Carlos nodded and threw our plates in the garbage. I followed him from the room with no intention of going to another one of their little packed-room meetings. Just the thought of it made me twitchy. Hiding out in my room sounded like a better plan.
When Carlos turned down a side hall, I didn’t question it; I’d been watching my feet on the way to the lobby. He turned again, and I absently followed until he stopped. I looked up, realizing I’d been watching my feet again, and saw where we were. An exercise room. The food in my stomach soured.
“No.”
He was too quick, though. He moved around me to close the door and stand in front of it.
“Yes.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and almost got mad. But I didn’t. It was too much effort. Besides, my anger was reserved now. For Blake and his kind.
“I don’t feel like it.”
“Just five minutes.”
“No.”
He studied me for a moment then stepped away from the door. His gaze didn’t waver as he advanced. There was something predatory in his moves that had me taking a step back.
“No,” I said again.
He seemed not to hear as he slowly stalked me. He would step forward. I would step back. Until there wasn’t anywhere else for me to go.
“I don’t want to spar.”
He didn’t stop until we stood toe to toe. Then he tilted his head to the side.
“I know.”
If he understood, why had he just broken my personal bubble? I stared at him, trying to guess what he meant to do. Did he really think he could make me fight?
After taking a moment to study my face, he slowly lifted his hands. My pulse leapt when they settled on my shoulders. His gaze didn’t waver from mine as his thumbs moved on my skin. Just tiny circles. It wasn’t aggressive, but it gave me an idea of what he was thinking. And that made me angry.
“Back off, Carlos.”
“No.”
His hands started to move, tracing down until his thumbs rested on my collarbones.
My arms were up between his, breaking the contact before he could move further.
“Got a problem?” he said calmly.
His words gave away his intention, but it didn’t change my answer.
“Yeah. You.”
“I’m not your problem, Isabelle.”
His calm tone worked its way under my skin, and before I knew I’d fisted my hand, I jabbed him in the right shoulder. The image of Ethan’s bruised shoulder flashed in my mind. My stomach pitched and tears threatened until Carlos spoke.
“You don’t need to baby me, Isabelle.”
Like I’d babied Ethan?
“Shut up and finish what you started.”
I gave him twenty minutes instead of five.
He didn’t comment when I finally stepped back. Nor did he say anything as he followed me down the hall. Ethan would have been making little comments, trying to tease me into a better mood. Guilt hit me with that thought.
I used my keycard to open the door to our room, then quickly grabbed my bag and shut myself in the bathroom. Staring at my reflection, I let the tears fall. I’d hit Carlos repeatedly in the right shoulder, just like I had Ethan. What was wrong with me? Why did I have to be that way?
Turning away from my reflection, I started the shower. I let the warm water wash away my tears. After a good cry, I felt a little better.
When I reemerged, my skin was pink from the long, hot shower; and a billow of steam followed me out despite my use of the bathroom fan. My clean leggings had been a bugger to tug on.
Carlos sat at the end of my bed. The TV was off. He wasn’t reading anything, just sitting there. Apparently waiting for me. My stomach gave a little jump. It hadn’t done that in days.
“Sorry. Was I hogging the bathroom?” I said as I pulled the towel from my head.
“No.”
His gaze traced over my face and wet, tangled hair, then drifted down to my tank top and further still to my legs. Once he reached my toes, he let his gaze travel the same path back up.
“Get a good look?”
“For now.”
My gut clenched. He stood and moved close. A thread of panic wormed its way into my heart.
“Two thirty seven. Don’t be late,” he said, then turned and walked out the door.
I stayed where I was for a moment. So many thoughts wanted to surface, but I wasn’t ready for any of them. I needed to keep things simple. Simple tasks, simple thoughts. I went to the bathroom and picked up my hairbrush. On autopilot, I ran it through the wet strands.
Before the clock showed five to the hour, I was out the door. Though I didn’t want to go, I wasn’t ready for the implied “or else” of Carlos’ words if I didn’t show up.
The room wasn’t hard to find; it was at the other end of our hallway and had the door propped open. The heat coming from the room explained why. Too many bodies in too small of a space. Someone had even opened the room’s window. It didn’t help much. My cheeks flushed as soon as I stepped in.
Carlos leaned against the wall near the door. He turned and studied me for a moment.
Bethi stood from her place on the bed and walked toward me. When she reached me, she grabbed my hand and tugged me into the hall.
“How are you doing?” she said quietly.
“Fine.” It was such an automatic answer. Why did I bother saying it? She studied me for a minute, and I could see she knew it was a lie.
“You’re still bouncing between numb and angry. Numb might seem like it’s better, but it’s not. Not for you. You need to be angry, Isabelle. Very angry.”
“Why?” I wanted to slap myself for asking.
“Because they aren’t done yet.”
Her vivid blue eyes seemed violet in the light of the hall as she earnestly watched for my reaction to her words. I noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the redness.
“You can sleep by me tonight if you want.” I didn’t know where these words kept coming from.
She smiled at me. It started small and grew into something that made me want to grin back.
“Not sure how Luke would feel about room sharing. Can you picture Luke spooning with Carlos?”
“Bethi!”
Luke’s voice made my lips twitch.
“Luke’s smaller than Carlos. He knows he’d be the spooned, not the spooner,” I said.
“If you don’t go out there, I will,” I heard Luke say.
A second later, Carlos emerged from the room.
“Hey, Carlos,” Bethi said with good cheer.
“Hello, Bethi. I think Luke would like you to join us again.”
“I’m sure he would. So, can we share a room tonight?”
“Yes.”
Poor Luke. I realized my lips were curving into a smile. What was wrong with me? Nothing. It was Bethi. She was over the top. I found it hard not to like her. She reminded me of Ethan. That thought sent a spear of sorrow through my chest.
“Let’s get inside and get this over with before my skin starts to crawl,” I said, brushing past both of them to step into the room once more.
Bethi was only a step or two behind me.
“All right. We all know what needs to happen. We need to outline a plan and execute it,” Bethi said, moving to sit beside Luke, who looked slightly annoyed.
“Hold up,” I said. “Can you recap for me?” My brain was fried, and I had no idea what needed to happen.
“Sure. We need to stop Blake from coming after us or, at least, make it really hard for him. When I started having the dreams of our past lives, I ran. I was terrified the Urbat would find me. They had destroyed me in so many ways in so many lives, I was sure there was nowhere safe from them.
“Then, I realized something. In this life, they couldn’t just come for me directly. They had to be careful. Why? Because humans outnumber them. For all the strength the Urbat and werewolves have, it is nothing compared to the collective strength of humanity. We need to use the Urbat’s fear of exposure to our advantage.
“By exposing the two races publicly, the Urbat won’t be able to move as freely.”
“Correct. They will be hunted,” Winifred said, “and so will we.”
Bethi turned to face Winifred. “What other option do we have?”
“I’m not refuting your plan, only stating the truth. Our lives will be in greater danger afterward.”
The room fell silent.
I thought they’d already discussed that part and made peace with it.
“You guys have remained hidden for how long? Why do you think public awareness will make it more difficult to hide?” I asked. “You look human. You blend.”
“The plan is that Winifred will be exposing herself on TV. Her face will be all over the place. So will anyone who goes with her,” Bethi said.
“No,” Charlene said. “We all go. I don’t want to split the group for this. I think that would be bad. I can make people forget the rest of our faces. Just not Winifred’s once it’s broadcast.”
“I’ll be fine,” Winifred said. “I’m more worried about the rest of
our people.”
“They should be fine as long as they keep blending in,” Bethi said. “The point of this meeting is to decide which station and then how to get on the air because I doubt anyone will take us seriously if we just walk up and tell them the truth. Plus, we need to figure out our route. According to Gabby, the way north is perfectly clear.”
“They’ve pulled back but are still following us at a distance,” Gabby said. “Occasionally, one will get close, almost as if verifying our location, and then retreat. All netting movement has stopped. There’s a wall of Urbat to the west two states long. The same to the east. It’s as if we’re in an almost empty alley.”
“Almost?”
“There are still clusters of them. It took me a bit to figure it out, but I’m pretty sure they’re guarding the airports, train stations, and bus stations between here and New York.”
That didn’t sound good. Why New York? Because they already knew we were headed that way or because they wanted us to head that way?
“We need to decide this,” Bethi said again. “What station?”
Charlene picked up the remote. “We don’t watch TV often. I wouldn’t even be able to tell you what our local stations are back home.”
She started to surf through channels, pausing at anything that looked like a talk show or morning news.
“Any suggestions on how we can get someone to talk to us once we pick a station?” Bethi asked, looking at everyone.
“When I called the local news station, they agreed to send out a reporter after I said I had money and wanted to donate it,” Michelle said.
“That could work,” Bethi said, looking excited.
“No,” Charlene said. “I’ve got something better.” Conflicting waves of fear and excitement rolled off her.
I followed her gaze and stared at the TV. A woman was speaking. I looked at the newsreel at the bottom of the screen. Penny Alton was reporting a short, feel good piece about a man who’d saved a kid from a train.
“We’re pushing someone in front of a train?” I asked.
“I vote Emmitt,” Jim said quickly.
“Cut it out,” Charlene said, giving Jim a censuring look. “I know her. Penny. She wasn’t Alton back then, though. But I recognize her. And I think, no matter what I have to say, she’ll talk to me.”
Thomas wrapped his arms around Charlene.