On that cheerful note, she and John Matthew dematerialized up, up, and away. To say leaving was a relief was an understatement.
To say she was looking forward to whatever came next … was pure insanity.
But sometimes, you had to do shit you didn’t want.
So you could sleep at day.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, at 4:23 a.m., Lydia stepped out of her back door and looked to the trees. Then she checked around what she could see of the property.
Locking things behind herself, she zipped her keys in the pocket of her windbreaker and pulled the waistband of her running tights up. With her sports bra on and a nylon shirt, she had created an illusion that she was just a runner out for an early morning jog—and also ensured that if she had to beat feet out of a bad situation, she had the right gear on.
That was the thought going through her mind as she—
There might have been no moonlight because of clouds, but the veil had come to the sky, the sacred dawn preamble glowing through the bare-limbed trees and fluffy pine boughs off to the east.
Just as the shimmer registered in Lydia’s eyes, at the moment her gaze shifted up and zeroed in on its source, a figure walked out of the trees, Daniel’s broad shoulders and strong legs creating a dark shadow in the midst of the mountain’s mysterious gleam.
If you want to see your future, she heard in her head, go into the forest at the veil, and what is your due shall come unto you.
Daniel stopped halfway up the lawn. “Right on time.”
The sound of his voice snapped her out of the spell, freeing her from the lock-in of an ancient proverb she told herself she did not believe in.
Stepping forward, she tried to make like she was as cool and calm as the morning—
“I’d like it noted,” he said as she came up to him.
“What noted?”
Daniel tapped the back of his wrist. “My on-time bit.” He bowed a little. “And I’d offer you my arm, but it seems forward. So let’s just do this.”
“Okay, yup. Right—”
Shut up, she told herself.
“Where’s your bike?” she asked.
“Right back where I was. I’ll show you.”
Together, they went into the trees, and she glanced around at where his tent had been. Or at least where she thought it had been. There was no sign he’d spent the night anywhere in the forest.
“Tidy camper,” she remarked.
“You better believe it. Harley’s over here.”
The motorcycle was half-draped with a camouflage tarp that matched the woodland’s palette of grays and browns and greens, and Daniel pulled the covering completely off. As he folded it up, he asked her something and she responded, but she didn’t track the conversation.
The next thing she knew, he was throwing a leg over the seat and looking across his shoulder at her. As his mouth moved, she heard nothing. It was as if the world had lost its speakers, a stereo with vital components unplugged.
It was the light. It was … the veil.
As she stared at him, he had a halo around his head and upper body, and the illumination was so pronounced, she blinked—and then had to put her hands up so her eyes weren’t blinded.
“Lydia?”
“The light is so bright.”
“What light?”
Feeling like a fool, she forced herself to drop her arms—and frowned. “Oh … it’s gone now. The illumination’s faded.”
“You okay? You having a migraine or something?”
No, that wasn’t it.
I was wrong about the wolf in the woods the other morning, she thought. You, Daniel Joseph, are my future.
“I’m fine,” she whispered. “I don’t get headaches like that.”
“You’re lucky.” He straightened the bike out of its lean on the kickstand, and jumped on one boot to start the engine, the growling purr shocking even though there was no reason for it to be. “Hop on.”
Coming even closer, she tried to balance as she lifted one leg and attempted to get it over the full saddlebags.
“Use me.” He put out his arm. “I’ll keep you right.”
Putting her hand on his bicep, she got herself on the bike, the sloping seat bringing her tight to his backside. As the scent of him flooded her nose, she closed her eyes briefly—
On the back of her lids, all she saw was the profile of him spotlit against the mysterious, brilliant illumination.
As she cursed and popped open her eyes, she rubbed her face.
“You okay back there?” he said. “I don’t wear helmets anywhere, by the way. But I’m a licensed driver and you can hold on to me.”
When he hit the gas, she jerked back, and instinctively her hands went to his waist. But after that, he was careful with the speed, finding the bumpy way over to the dirt road she’d told him to use, the one that, ironically, took them to McBridge’s property—and from there, out to a side lane that intersected with the county main drag.