by Anna Sanders
“What are you going to do, run me over? Because you wouldn’t be the first one to try tonight, I’ll have you know.” His words were barely out of his mouth when she revved her engine and pulled forward an inch. “Whoa! Heavens, woman! Okay, I’m sorry!” he yelled, moving out of the way. “Obviously, right now isn’t the time. How about I give you my number and—”
Again, she ignored him. And this time she drove away leaving him in the dark, empty lot by himself.
CHAPTER 3
WINX TOOK TO THE FREEWAY. At this time of night, the cars were fairly few and far between, nothing like rush hour. She turned up her music to quiet her thoughts and was prepared to enjoy her ride back home when she caught a streak of color in her mirror.
At first, she shrugged it off, thinking that her eyes were playing tricks on her. But the third and fourth time it happened, she looked into her side mirror and gasped out loud.
That man was tailing her. He was running behind her car like a madman, his arms pumping along with his legs to give him a burst of speed that was unreal. But what was really odd about it was that he was keeping up with her car. She was going seventy miles down the road, and he had to be going at least sixty-five.
Winx hadn’t known that there were creatures out there that could move so quickly. But what she did know was that he was in major danger of exposing himself. The inhabitants of other cars were definitely giving him some looks. Some frightened, others comically disbelieving. Who the hell wouldn’t notice some psycho guy running down a freeway? And at that speed?
She had to stop. What he was doing was definitely a no-no in the supernatural rule book. However, she found her foot pressing harder to the floor in an effort to escape him.
Even from a distance, she saw his smile. After zigzagging out of the way of an oncoming vehicle, he sped up even more. This time he playfully tagged her bumper, which made her car shake just slightly.
The son of a bitch!
Winx began to slow down her car, checking around to make sure that the humans continued on their way. “What is your fucking problem?” she shrieked at him, slowing down to a paltry five miles.
He was breathing deeply with a giant, stupid grin on his face. “Thanks for stopping. I was getting kind of tired. That takes a lot out of me.”
“People saw you!”
“Well, what was I supposed to do? I really, really need to talk to you,” he said.
“I do not want to hear anything that you have to say to me. I don’t know you. Now stop following me and get a life!”
“The way I see it, you have a choice.” He leaned his hip against her car and crossed his arms. “I can follow you home, or we can speak in a public place. Preferably somewhere that I can eat.”
Winx narrowed her eyes even more. “And you really believe your cause so important?”
He actually got serious. “Yes. Lives are at stake.”
The cars passing them blared their horns, probably because her Mazda was still in the middle of the road. The stranger gave her a pleading look.
“Please. I promise you, if you talk with me I won’t follow you home. And I won’t come into your work again. Just hear me out.”
The promises had merit. It meant that if she didn’t like what she heard, she could go back to her peaceful “human” life. But Winx didn’t want him in her car. The idea of the classic hitchhiker murderer was stuck in her brain, not to mention the possibility of an assassin sent by the lixyns.
“Fine. I’ll take you somewhere that we can talk. But you’ll have to ride in the trunk.”
“What on earth for?”
“I’m not getting stabbed while I drive,” she said.
He seemed to be thinking this over. He looked at the trunk, then at the soft-looking interior. “Is it roomy in there?”
“Nothing to worry about but a spare tire.”
He must have really wanted to talk. He not only chased her car down like his life depended on it, but he rode in her trunk readily. It was as suspicious as him running beside her car, yet nobody stopped when she shut it. Maybe that wasn’t such a good thing. However, Winx felt oddly gratified as she drove to an exit and searched out a restaurant for them to eat in.
After finding a pub called the Firkin and Hound, Winx popped the latch for the trunk, got her bag, and opened her door.
The cryptid sprinted out easily and cracked his neck. “Oddly comfortable in there,” he said. “With the exception of the speed bumps.” He looked up at the pub with a small smile. “They have food here?”
“Sure do.” Winx waited for him to walk in front of her before following him inside.
Their hostess was a small teenage girl who couldn’t stop staring at the tall hunk of guy from Winx’s trunk. She handed them menus with a giggle then walked away to put in their drink orders.
They sat in silence. He stared at the menu. She stared at him.
He wasn’t quiet for long. “Why would anyone process their food this way?”
“What do you mean?” She eyeballed the picture of the sweet potato fries.
“All these cheeses and sauces and gravy…don’t they have anything raw here?”
“This isn’t a sushi bar. You can’t order anything raw.”
He looked momentarily disappointed, then pointed to a picture. “But look, they have hamburgers. I like a good hamburger.” He smiled at her.
“Who are you?”
“I am not a stalker, I promise. Name’s Keaton Silver.” He held his hand out.
“Winx.” She tentatively shook his hand.
“Winx. What a great name, it suits you.”
“How do you mean?”
“It’s exotic,” Keaton said. “And you’re exotic. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Pam or a Sue.”
The waitress returned with two waters. “Have you two decided on what you want to have?”
“I want a hamburger,” Keaton said.
She gave him a smile. “Which hamburger?”
He stared at the pictures, then pointed at one. “This hamburger.”
“Alright. How would you like it cooked?”
He stared at her, then to Winx, then back to her again.
“He’ll have it rare,” Winx answered for him. “As raw as you can without violating health codes. And I’ll have the sweet potato fries.”
The waitress wrote their orders down with an unreadable expression. Then she took their menus and left them alone once more. “How do you usually eat back at home?” Winx asked.
“Most everything is raw. We rarely cook, unless it’s for a quest or festival. Cooking is frivolous. Sorry for my ignorance on modern terms—it’s been a long time since I came into the city. Any city, really. I much prefer home.”
She leaned back, feeling slightly more comfortable in his company with other people around. Something told her that this man, so new to the city, had no idea what trouble she was in with the Queendom. And if he had, he probably wouldn’t have minded in the slightest. Or have been able to do much about it.
Keaton was playing with his knife and fork. “My tribe doesn’t mix often. And we travel a lot.”
“Like Gypsies?”
“If you feel the need to refer to us as such, yes. It can be easier to stay on the move. Especially with how much of the natural wilderness is being taken over by human population.”
They were quiet again. Keaton looked up at the high-definition televisions surrounding the eatery. Winx sipped at her water. “So,” she said before long. “You said that there was an urgent matter to discuss with me? Lives are in danger?”
Keaton looked back at her, turning serious again. “Yes.” He looked down at the table, clearly trying to decipher where to begin. “It is a matter of grave importance.”
“Which is usually the case when lives are at stake.”
He only gave her a wry look before jumping into the subject. “Have you ever heard of a savage?” He took in her facial expression and sighed. “Yeah. Of course you have. They’re mons
trous creatures. How could you not have?”
Winx closed her eyes for a moment. She could still hear them in the echoes of her mind. See and smell them, too. The training. That awful training where she had learned what she was to face, what she was condemned to contend with…
“What about them?” Her voice was hard.
“For a long time, we with the Touch have kept them at bay. They usually inhabit city life, or the places where they have died, but they’ve strayed to our woods on occasion. We can handle ourselves fine when it’s a few stragglers. It is when they grow in number that we have a problem. And lately they’ve been more and more.”
“So you have a savage problem. What do you expect me to be able to do about it?”
“Well, you’re a demon. Daevor!” He held up his hands when she glared at him. “Sorry. You…control them, don’t you?”
Winx’s mouth twisted slightly. “Not exactly. We cannot keep them from terrorizing villages. We can only divert their attention.”
“Huh. That doesn’t sound like much of a power.”
She shrugged. “You asked.”
“So what? You put out bait or do some sort of duck call?”
“No. It’s essentially the same thing we can do when a savage is human. There is a psychic link. We can, basically, give them an idea counterproductive to their own.”
“So you can still help me?”
Winx looked away from him. “I don’t know.”
“What don’t you know? We really need help. Do you know what a savage attack looks like?”
Winx glowered. “Yes.”
“Then you know how destructive a large group of them can be. They… eat the living.”
“Look, it’s not my job to worry about that.”
That was an all-out lie. It was her job exactly to worry about that. And to stop it. Yet Winx had never joined the eradication force waiting for her.
The chances of Winx unweaving that lost past was nonexistent, in her mind. She had long ago come to terms with never seeing her family again; a family that had never looked for her. The only thing she’d kept an eye out for was a lixyn-hired assassin, come to make her pay for taking off.
But since that hadn’t happened either, was this possibly the only option awaiting her? A duty that she had vowed to always avoid?
“If a troop of Bandits can’t hold the savages off, what makes you think that one daevor can?”
“We have to try. There are innocents dying. We’ve lost so many who cannot defend themselves.” Keaton looked down at the table. “I can still hear their screams. Those evil…things. They have no mercy.”
The waitress interrupted their conversation in order to bring them their food. But at this point, neither of them could eat. Keaton wanly smiled at the bubbly waitress as she gave him a flirty look. Winx separated her Cajun-seasoned dip from her sweet potato fries and mixed it with a spoon. Afterwards, she put it down on the table with a clink. The distraction was not working.
“Do they really eat people?” Winx asked after the waitress left.
Keaton shot Winx a long-suffering look tinged with grief. She shrugged a shoulder. “Morbid curiosity.”
“There is nothing quite as devastating as a savage attack. They don’t feel. Even when you beat them, they do not seem to know or care. I have seen evil in my lifetime, but none quite like this. They don’t only eat flesh. They drink blood. They imbibe pain and horror. And all the while, they’re not even aware of doing it. “
“Stop.” Winx felt her hand shake slightly, but she covered it up.
“If hearing about it has you in knots, you should see it. Can you understand now why I’ve traveled so far?”
“Look, I’m sorry that you came all of the way into the city. I know it’s out of your nature. However—”
“California is quite a trek from home, it’s true.”
“—I can’t just… wait. What? Where are you from?”
“Colorado.”
“You came from Colorado all the way here?”
“Yes. It was many days of walking,” Keaton said, as if this wasn’t a big deal.
“You cannot be serious. You walked all the way here?”
“I ran when I could. But there are so many roads, I didn’t want to risk anyone seeing me.”
“How did you even hear about me all the way out there?”
“I didn’t. Not on my own. Our village has been trying for a long time to find help, though our resources are limited. We were advised by another pack to find a demon. And when we inquired, our alpha found information to where the closest one would be. Or rather, where you were. In the L.A. area.”
“It was that easy to find me?” Winx was thunderstruck. “How?”
“The informant gave us nothing beyond that.”
Oh boy. If it was that easy to find her, then the lixyns had to know where she was. Then why had they not come for her? Was there the faintest chance that they’d left her punishment at not being able to return home?
“No. I’m sorry,” Winx said. “I can’t do this. If I could help you I would, but look what you’re asking of me—”
“I tell you of the danger we face, and you refuse me?”
“Look! You aren’t the only one with problems, okay?” Winx was overrun with annoyance. If he knew anything about her situation, if he could even fathom…
“You can’t imagine the hell we are in,” Keaton pleaded.
She could imagine it too well. Everything he was saying scared the shit out of her. And daevors were supposed to be a proud, brave race.
Winx lowered her voice and leaned in closer to the table, wanting to make her every word clear. “I do not know you. I do not know your… your pack. And I cannot help you. What, do you think all daevors can fight off savages? I don’t spend my spare time killing anything. I am a dancer at Skinned, for Christ’s sake.” Keaton looked as if he were in some kind of physical pain. Winx ignored it and pushed on. “The deal was that I would hear out your case. And I have. I’m sorry that I cannot do anything to help you. But hey, I’ll pay the bill, all right?” She grabbed her bag and stood up.
“Winx. I am not one for begging. But please tell me that you will consider… reconsidering?”
“I’m sure you’re starving. Eat your food. And remember, you’re not to come around my work any longer.” Winx waved at him. “Have a nice life, Keaton Silver.”
And that was it. She walked away.
CHAPTER 4
KEATON WATCHED HIS SALVATION WALK away. She kept good on her word and went straight to the counter in order to pay for their food. After that, she gave him a final glance and left the restaurant.
Everything had been riding on him finding the demon. But during his travel, he had not paused to think of the possibility that she would say no and refuse to see him ever again.
Morosely, he stared down at his untouched food. He could hear Winx’s car start and screech away from the parking lot.
How could he return to Colorado without her? The alpha had entrusted him with this task, and he had failed his fellows.
Hunger drove him to take a big bite of his hamburger. That, at least, was satisfying. The patty had been lightly rotated over a fire, which left a good amount of untainted meat for him to enjoy. He could thank Winx for that, if for nothing else.
As Keaton dug in, another couple of people walked into the lightly-inhabited eatery.
“Table for two?” the bubbly hostess asked.
“No,” answered a deep voice, thick with an accent. “We are meeting with him. Over there.”
“Oh. All right. Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you. And no menus, please.”
Keaton had finished half of his large plate when he remembered Winx’s untouched sweet potato fries. He dragged the platter over, and as he did, he looked up at the newcomers heading his way.
Two imposing men in white suits had eyes directly on him. Both were tall with a hint of muscle. The first was the one in charge, g
uessing by his posture. He stopped in front of the table with a charming smile that reached his eyes. He was a young-looking man with auburn hair and a tan skin tone.
His partner stood behind him, crossing his arms in front of his chest as if on guard. He had darker hair and steely eyes and no smile.
“Keaton Silver?”
It was never comforting for a stranger to know your name.
“Who are you?”
“My name is London Iragall. This is my compatriot, Roy Ardess. We would like to have a word with you. Would you mind if we sat down?”
Keaton could not see why he should deny them. Inclining his head in assent, he kept an eye on them as they scooted into the bench. Roy remained on the outside, which led Keaton to believe that he was not so much a compatriot as he was a bodyguard.
“Thank you. We’ve had a journey getting here.” London silently inquired about the fries, and when Keaton offered no objection, he tasted one. “Oh my, that’s exquisite. But I suppose I should have expected that. Our dear Winx has such great taste in… well, most everything.”
“You know Winx?”
“I personally take responsibility for Winx.” London helped himself to another fry, again getting a bedazzled look on his face when it hit his tongue. “She makes quite an impression, does she not?”
Keaton had gone from feeling unsettled to downright suspicious. He momentarily forgot the rest of his food and sat back to stare at his newly-met acquaintance.
London continued amiably. “She’s a troubled girl, however. One with a colored past. But I’m sure that you could guess that without too much difficulty. She wears it on her sleeve.”
“I only just met her tonight. The most I could tell you about her is that she is, in a phrase… disagreeable.”
“Well, daevors usually are. Incredibly stubborn creatures, all of them. And haughty. Their ancestors are demons, and demons are hotheads. Why wouldn’t their offspring be as well?”
“And what are you, exactly?”
“Me? Why, I’m a lixyn, of course. I thought you would have guessed that much.”