Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
I go to the truck and start the engine.
“Coming?”
Damon was already asleep in the truck, and Tailor is not far behind in terms of clambering up and in once the engine starts. These men have a good sense of self preservation.
“You want to stay here by yourself, Conroy?”
He glowers at me, but sits in the passenger seat without another word as I get the truck back on the road. I like this sense of power. I know there are a lot of questions they must have for me, but they’re actually being pretty chill about the whole what the hell I’m doing thing. They’ve barely questioned the legendary ancient vampire tracking us. I guess they’re used to chaotic things and terrible events. Anyway, at some point, I am going to have to explain myself. I’m not looking forward to that point.
Rock City is probably only a day away, which is going to give us plenty of time for on-road bickering, but I plan to stop at a proper truck stop as soon as I see one. It’s time to blend in again. Time to change things up.
“Are you feeling better, Tailor?”
“Yes,” he says. “I shifted last night and that helped restore the missing pieces.”
“I’m so sorry that happened,” I say. “Next time you see Alexander, please run. Don’t stand in front of him and tell him how much you like his coat. He doesn’t care how much you like his coat.”
“How do you know Alexander?”
Oh, I hate that question.
“Just barely,” I lie.
“What’s in the truck?”
“Three curious puppies,” I say.
Conroy growls. “I think you owe us some answers.”
“Maybe,” I say. “Okay. Sure. Soon. I’ll tell you all soon, but I don’t want to talk right now, and seeing as Damon never talks I feel like that’s enough of a reason for you to wait.”
“Is the vampire going to be coming?”
“Yes,” I say. “Well. For a bit. Then he’s going to stop. Honestly, the three of you should get away from me. I am going to be an absolute liability for quite a while. Tell you what, why don’t you let me handle this and I can drop you guys off somewhere, and then I can hook up with you later once this is over.”
“I am not going to leave you in whatever mess you are in,” Conroy says.
“Neither am I,” Tailor says. “I’m all in.”
“You shouldn’t be,” I say, looking at him in the otherwise pretty redundant rearview mirror. “You almost fucking died. You all almost died. He would kill you happily. Actually, you being around me gives him something to hurt me with. He’ll think you’re leverage. And it will make me more trackable. One girl who could be mistaken for a boy if she wears a big enough hat and jacket is hard to find. One girl and three massive wolves who keep running around and trying to mate or beat her is going to draw so much more attention.”
Food
You never think about how good a sign like that is until you’re four hours into a drive with three men you barely know who all have very good questions you don’t want to answer.
“Look! Food!” I say. “We need to eat. I need gas.”
“You need to tell me what’s in the container,” Conroy says.
“I’m not telling you anything yet. I don’t want you involved. I can drop you off at this truck stop and we can all connect later.”
“That’s not an option, Kita,” Tailor’s voice comes from the back seat. He really does seem well recovered. He also seems like he’s almost as annoying as Conroy. I really like Damon. Damon is my favorite. Damon doesn’t ask questions, and he doesn’t judge me as far as I can tell, and right now he’s napping, which is the sensible thing to do. I wish the others would fall asleep.
We’ve joined the main drag now, the major highway that runs up through the center of the country. There’s a lot more traffic, a lot of trucks, a lot of cars and vans. I like that. It’s making me feel as though I’m camouflaged.
The off-ramp exit is easy enough to take, and we stream off toward the small complex where there’s gas to be bought, food to eat, and a small store that oddly contains the same sorts of things anybody who needs to change their appearance would need.
“What are you doing?” Tailor asks the question as I exit the shop with an armful of things.
“It’s going to be a lot easier if you don’t constantly ask me what I am doing,” I tell him. “Go and get some cake.”
He gives me a long look down his nose, a sort of inspection that I know is probably a cross between an attempt at intimidation and a genuine attempt to understand me.
I go into the bathroom and bleach my hair, and give myself a haircut. Short to my chin. I slip in a pair of colored contacts to get blue eyes—not from the shop, but something I got earlier in preparation for just this moment. These guys are getting caught up in something they never asked to be part of, and a big part of me wants to give them the slip to save them from the consequences of my actions. While I’m thinking deep thoughts, I ditch the goth aesthetic clothes in favor of pink sweatpants and a bejeweled tank top. I look cute, but not too cute, and definitely not too recognizable.