Young girl screaming, clawed to death by a werewoman in the middle of her moon madness.
The wolf is brown with gray streaks.
The girl can’t be more than ten years old.
“On it. By the time we get a place to crash tonight, this will be ready. But seriously, enough dodging. You gave a huge speech to me about always being on the road, saving other people’s lives, and never actually living yours.”
I snort. “Did I say that?”
“You’re always spouting poetic crap like that. I didn’t throw a fit about you leaving because I want those things for you. I want you to have a good life with a white picket fence and all that. But when I come back and find you living the life of a ninety-year-old hermit? That’s not what we agreed to.”
“And what did we agree to?”
Avet stares out his window with unmistakable sadness in his tone. “You agreed to go off and have a good life, and I agreed to let you go.”
I frown at him. “You had no choice in the matter. At the end of the day, this is my life, my decision. I went into trapping because I wanted to. I got out the same way.”
That’s not entirely true. I went into trapping because my mother was murdered by a vampire in front of me when I was twelve years old. Not the best way to find out the truth about the shadows that do more than just go bump in the night, but everyone has their reason for getting into trapping. Mine is no more or less grim than the other stories I’ve heard through the years.
Avet doesn’t call me on the fib, not because he doesn’t catch it, but because he loves me and protects my pride whenever possible. “You know what I mean, Keran. Why are you hiding out here? That’s the only reason I can think for anyone keeping such a low profile. Someone’s after you, so you’re lying low.”
“I’m not hiding.” But the second I say the words, I taste their falsity. “Well, I’m not hiding on purpose.” I let loose a labored sigh, hoping Avet will drop it, but I know him too well for that. Once he smells a juicy secret, he will hunt it down like a dog searching for one very specific bone. “You’re better at this kind of thing than I am.”
“You’ll have to be more specific. The things I am better at than you are too long to list. Knife throwing? Sure. Basic good looks? Of course.”
“Living,” I blurt out. “I wanted a regular life like all those people went back to after we rescued them. But when I got out of the trapping business, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I don’t do small talk. I don’t know how to smile at people for no reason without freaking them out. I don’t have that friendly sort of face.”
Avet covers his mouth to keep his giggle inside. “You don’t say? Have you tried smiling with like, your face?”
I grip the steering wheel to keep from lashing out. “Shut up. I live how I live and I’m fine with it.”
“Clearly.” Avet stares at me while I drive. It takes him half a minute to let loose a small portion of his constant exasperation with me. “You look perfectly fine. There’s nothing wrong with your face or your smile. That’s all in your head. There’s nothing wrong with you.” He pauses, scratching his five o’clock shadow. “I mean, I was hoping to find you had at least discovered the part of your personality that can put paint on a wall to give your place a little something, but it’s okay to be a late bloomer.”
“You’re the outgoing one, okay? I didn’t realize how hard all that small talk stuff would be without you there. Turns out, that sort of thing is pretty important.”
Avet quiets while I drive. We pass several exits before he speaks. “How much do you want to bet you take one look at Cher’s stuff and discover a clue I’ve overlooked this entire time? I’m better at taking risks. You’re better at calculations. Leaving the life of a trapper to attempt normalcy? That’s a big risk, Keran, and you did it well.”
My shoulders begin to relax. “We both know I stink at it, but thanks.”
We drive for four more hours with exchanges that are far less antagonistic, now that we got that out of the way. When Avet starts to get on my nerves with his drumming on the dashboard, I know it’s time to stretch our legs.
“How much longer?” I ask him, wishing he would just give me the address so I can look it up on the GPS already.
Avet motions vaguely to the road. “A few more exits.”
“You know you’re trying to get on my nerves. How many more exits? Do I need to stop for food or are we almost there?”
“I think you’re supposed to whine when you say that,” Avet kids. “Literally three more exits. No big deal. It took you this long to turn into a child. Well done. You have grown.”
“Whatever. I’m the one driving; I should know where we’re going.”
“You do. You’re going where I tell you.”
I turn my chin to glower at him. It’s been a long time since we have been stuck in a car together. Usually, we find our rhythm, since trapping often requires long car rides to the next job. But every now and then, Avet gets bored, so he plays his favorite game: Annoy Keran. Only the people who know you best can find your irritable spots and apply the right amount of pressure.
It’s one of the many downsides of letting people into your life.
When I finally pull off the freeway, I am counting the minutes until we can get out of the car. Avet’s dashboard drumming is incessant and often skips several important beats, which he knows irks me. He points down a winding main road. “We take this for a while.”