Running with Wolves. Cynthia Cooke
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nodded, rethinking her plan. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to go all the way to this colony. She was starving, and she had to use the restroom. First thing in the morning, she would call a car-rental place and take back control of her life. She didn’t know who this man was, anything about him or where he was taking her. There was no reason she had to stay with him.
Except he had the tattoo.
But if it was so important that she trust him, go with him, then why hadn’t anyone told her about this colony?
“Great. While I appreciate all you’ve done today to help us, this motel will be the end of the line for me and Buddy.”
Jason turned and looked at her, his face unreadable in the dim light from the dash.
“Just because you have a tattoo that matches my necklace doesn’t mean I’m going to give up my life and run off with you. I know nothing about you. Nothing about where you’re taking me, or why I’m suddenly in so much danger.”
“Fair enough,” he said, his voice tense as he pulled into an old fifties-style motel. “But will you let me tell you more over dinner? Perhaps fill in some of the holes?”
“Those are some pretty big holes to fill,” she muttered. She stared skeptically out of the window at the bright neon vacancy sign. “Blue Moon?”
“It doesn’t look like much but it’s clean and the cheeseburgers are to die for.”
She sighed as her stomach rumbled and, with a pat on Buddy’s head, climbed out of the truck. Jason ordered for them while she took Buddy to do his business then put him back in the truck. “We won’t be long,” she promised. “Then you can sleep with me. It’s a pet-friendly motel.”
Buddy barked once, then whined and dropped his head onto his paws. She filled up his bowl, which she’d found shoved into his bag of food, smiled at him and shut the door.
Jason was right. The cheeseburger was better than she’d expected, especially since she didn’t usually eat meat, but suddenly she seemed to be craving it. She scarfed down the burger quicker than she would have imagined possible then picked at her salad.
“I can’t believe how fast I ate that,” she said, a little embarrassed. “I can’t remember the last time I was this hungry.”
He smiled. “I like girls with healthy appetites.”
It was a nice smile, a charming smile. But it wouldn’t work on her. Not anymore. She looked back down at her plate and speared a tomato. “So, what you said earlier...about my dad.”
He looked up, his pale bluish-gray eyes catching hers, and she was almost afraid to continue, to know. “It almost sounded like you knew him.”
“I did know him.”
She stared at him, her salad forgotten. “When? How?”
“The Colony is a small town. Everyone knows everybody. Your dad was... He was the leader of our village. You would be, too—as his daughter it’s your blood right.”
Blood right? What was that supposed to mean? Suspicion wormed its way through her, leaving a trail of unsettling wariness. What kind of town had leaders based on blood rights?
“My dad died ten years ago. And we have never lived anywhere called The Colony.”
“I know. He left shortly before marrying your mother.”
“Okay, well, that had to have been twenty-three years ago. And you can’t be a day over thirty. So how do you remember my dad?”
“He was a great man. He had a way of making an impression.”
She leaned back into the red vinyl seat and stared around the fifties diner, the long row of booths lining the wall of windows, while trying to wrap her mind around this. Something just didn’t sound right. Hell, none of it sounded right.
“Maybe you should tell me why you came for me. The real reason, because obviously you didn’t just happen to bump into me in the grocery store.”
“No, you’re right about that.” He swiped a handful of fries through a mound of ketchup and stuffed them into his mouth.
She waited, watching, her impatience growing by the second.
He swallowed, took a deep sip of his Coke and then smiled, a devastatingly charming smile meant to knock her off her feet. It wasn’t working. Not even a little.
“I came to find you.”
“Yes, I figured. Why?”
“To save you.” He leaned back with a self-satisfied grin, obviously pleased with his accomplishment.
“Thank you,” she gritted through a jaw growing tenser by the second.
“You’re welcome.”
“Why did I need saving?” She gripped the edge of the aluminum table to keep herself from jumping across the smooth surface and throttling him.
He looked around the room at the few other patrons scattered throughout the small diner then leaned in toward her. “It’s the demons. They’re after you.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was sitting in the middle of God knew where with an insane man. How had her life gotten so screwed up? “Fine, I’ll bite. Why? Why do they live in my walls? Why do they want me? And why were there wolves surrounding my house?”
“I told you earlier, the wolves can smell the demons. But not only that—they can smell you.”
Shock intensified her annoyance, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold on to her temper.
“It’s not like that,” he said quickly. “It’s because of your transformation. They can smell the change coming. Once you’ve made the transition, once we get you to The Colony, you’ll be safe. From them and from the demons, I promise.”
Anxiety burned in her chest. “What change? What transition?”
He took another long swig of Coke and suddenly she could see it for the diversion technique it was. He didn’t want to tell her. He was stalling! Because it was all lies.
“You have about thirty seconds to explain everything before I walk.” The urge to give him a swift kick under the table was almost overwhelming, and she held on to her leg with both hands cupped around her knee. God, what was happening to her? She was so keyed up, so frustrated and angry, she felt like she could jump right out of her own skin.
He took a deep prolonged breath. “Your father, like all of us at The Colony, was...different.”
“How?”
“Well, for instance, you’ve been seeing colors around people.”
“Yes,” she said, still surprised that he knew that.
“They are people’s auras. By now you should also be hearing the energy coming from their brains.”
The buzzing. “Yes...” But how did he know? “So, it’s not a tumor?” she asked, giving voice to her biggest fear.
“Nope. We all went through it.”
“And the people with the black auras, like that man at the store earlier?”
“He is a lost man, someone who doesn’t know who he is or what he values. He’s weak, and weak humans are easy vessels for demons to catch a ride in. We call them the Abatu.”
“Demons again.”
“Yes. But, one-on-one, you can fight them. Easy. Please tell me your dad at least taught you how to fight.”
“Of course he did,” she snapped, not liking the reference that her dad was some kind of slacker. “So, my dad could see auras, too?”
“Yes. Once. Before he went through the change. And