The ride back to my house the next morning is silent for the first two hours, and not just because Sevan is riding on her motorcycle behind us, unable to add to our lack of banter.
“I told you I was going home after we got back on Cher’s trail,” I remind Avet. “She’s not in any danger that we know of. She wasn’t abducted. If anything, Cher and Taline are doing the abducting.”
Avet doesn’t answer, which he knows is only going to make me talk more. I am overexplaining why I have no cause to feel guilty, so he shouldn’t accuse me of abandoning him.
Which he hasn’t.
All my condemnation has come from me, not him.
“I’m retired. I’ve given enough blood, sweat, and tears to the cause of ending the supernatural so the populace can have a chance at a normal life without getting their feet gnawed on.”
Avet keeps his eyes forward, not responding, which he knows will drive me crazy.
“You should start by tracking down Taline’s family. See if she has contacted anyone who might be in the trapping business. They wouldn’t necessarily report her found if they think she’s on a suicide mission.”
Avet nods, still not looking my way.
I wade through nearly half a minute of excruciating silence before I speak again. “Then see if Sargis can make heads or tails of Zagiri’s journal. He can usually speak science better than most.”
Still no response.
Finally, I lose my hold on my cool. “Look, I told you before this whole thing started that I was only in this until we got you back on Cher’s trail. I did what I said I was going to do. You have no right to be mad at me.”
We both know that’s not true. Both Cher and Avet deserve more than this from me. But I know that if I don’t put my foot down, I will get sucked into the never-ending tunnel of chaos. There is always another monster to put down, always a vendetta to settle. I can’t do this forever.
Avet finally turns his head to look at me. “What bug crawled up your butt? No one’s mad at you. I haven’t said a word.”
“Yes, that’s right. You haven’t said a word this entire drive. I know you’re stewing about this, but it is the way it is.”
Avet’s brows bunch together. “I wasn’t stewing. I was thinking about my sister, wondering why she didn’t tell me about any of this. I’m a trapper. I’m a good trapper. If anyone, she should have come to me when Zagiri appeared to her. No, she should have come to me before that. She should have called me when Zagiri was alive and reached out to her to come to that particular college and join that sorority so they could work together on this.”
My shoulders deflate as I mentally kick myself for being so dramatic. “Cher didn’t come to you because she probably thought you would have tried to talk her out of it. You would have said exactly what we did when we found the journal—that this is dangerous at best, suicide at worst.”
“But she hates that I’m a trapper. She used to beg us not to go out on the next job and the next. She wanted me to go to college and do the whole academic thing. I don’t get it. When did her brain flip from pre-med to trapping?” He shakes his head at himself. “And when did I stop keeping tabs on her? She was taking on this huge thing, this impossible thing, and I didn’t know about it.”
Digesting Avet’s guilt is almost as difficult as stomaching my own. I reach across the console and grip his hand, wondering when the last time was that I called Cher.
Three years. That’s when. I walked away from the life completely. I took Avet’s infrequent calls, sure. And Sargis on occasion. But anyone else, I didn’t talk to.
“Cher calls me on my birthday every year on my old phone number,” I admit in a low voice laced with regret. “I never gave her my new number. And I never call back because I’m always afraid she’s going to try to talk me back into going on the road with you.” I grimace at the partial truth, knowing the other half needs to come out. “Also, because it’s hard to hear from anyone without feeling the tug of wanting to get back in the game.”
Avet straightens in his seat. “Is that an option?”
“No.” My reply is unnecessarily firm. “But I don’t want the temptation, either.”
We ride in silence a few minutes more, nearing my home and consequently, the end of our time together. The premonitions of loneliness and regret claw at me like a forlorn puppy, begging me to pay attention to the parts of me to which I don’t often give voice.
When I pull into my driveway, a sick feeling settles in my soul.
I try my best to push it away. This is what I want. This is good. It’s healthy to want nothing to do with criminals and nightmarish monsters. I am choosing the right path, going home and leading a normal life.
The problem is, I never learned how to be normal. Nothing about my formative years prepared me for this.
But I can learn. Maybe I’ll make small talk with Waitress. Maybe I’ll paint again. Maybe I’ll…
But I know I won’t do any of those things. I will hide because that is part of who I am. I have never been able to outrun myself.
Avet is silent as he stares at me, waiting for me to get out of the car and claim the life I have told him I want.