Page 44 of Redeemed
I pocket my phone and head for the manager’s office.
Cliffe is there, carefully painting her fingernails black. Either the rank smell of wolf is gone or acetone can conquer anything.
“If I told you I had to leave now, would you come with me?” I ask, stepping right into the issue we’d flirted with earlier. Keeping her close increases the chances that I’d be around if her extra sense decided to share whether it meant Connor wouldn’t really die, or whether the cryptic message was aimed at Jacques.
Her expression is somewhere between hope and hopeless. “Yup.”
“It might be soon, and we might travel further east before we go to LA.”
She caps her nail polish and sets the bottle aside. “I probably don’t want to know the details.”
“Probably not.”
“Let me make a phone call.”
She picks up a black plastic thing that looks like a 1960s movie version of a phone of the future. Meanwhile, a cell phone sits next to her elbow on the desk. I point to it and mouth, “Can I use that?”
Rolling her eyes, she slides it toward me. She’s reached the person she called, and while they talk, I decide who I should call—Sheena, David, or Connor.
I settle on Sheena because hers is the only phone number I have memorized, since I’ve known her the longest. I could get the other numbers from my contact list, but I don’t want to turn on my phone.
I dial and after a couple of rings, it goes to voicemail. At the beep, I start in. “It’s me, and I don’t want to tell you where I am. This is about Jacques, and for now, it’s best if I stay away from LA. Tell David and Connor I’ll be in touch as soon as I can. Stay safe and keep your wits about you.”
I’m sure she’ll do plenty of reading between those lines, but that’s okay. I hand the phone back to Cliffe, who’s ready and waiting. She palms the phone and flashes a smile.
Her smile is three quarters bravado, one quarter uncertainty. “I told my manager I might be dealing with a personal emergency soon.”
“I hope we can approach things in an organized fashion, but…” I shrug. “If you notice anything unusual, if that guy comes back or you see anyone weirder than normal or anything that makes you uncomfortable, trust your gut and get out of here.”
That little pronouncement kills her smile. “Should I be armed?”
I weigh the relative strength of an armed werewolf against a vampire. “Only if you’re an excellent shot.”
That brings her smile back. “I am.”
With that, I leave her. I climb into the Range Rover, and for a moment I give in to weariness. Jacques isn’t living in my head, but he can still get at me. I’m alone, with one partial ally and an unknown number of enemies. Sheena said I’d be better off with my friends around me, but I’m not sure. I might kill one of them.
What’s the best path forward?
The sky is the kind of dark the city never sees, and the desert around me is silent. Oh, I’m sure there are the small sounds made by nocturnal creatures, but compared to LA, the quiet is a heavy thing. The absence of sound lets my head clear, and I come to a realization.
I’m hungry. Quickly, before I can go off on another tangent, I google “Joshua Tree Hospital” and learn that the Hi-Desert Medical Center is a couple miles down the highway in the direction of Twentynine Palms. Grasping that small bit of information, I put the car in gear and drive.
Persuading the front desk security guard to let me in takes very little effort and talking the blood bank clerk out of an expired unit or two takes even less. The blood is cold and rank, nothing like the sweet sustenance I get from David and Connor, but I feel better after I drain the bags.
I’m in the hospital parking lot, taking stock. I’d left LA in a rush because I couldn’t stand Jacques’ voice in my head. Being here had solved that. Partially.
But I’m a couple hours away from anyone who truly has my back. Was my self-control really so weak?
Possibly?
I can’t risk Jacques finding me. It’s just after midnight, so I have time to get someplace safe. The only question is, should I go back to LA or go further away? And if I go back to LA, do I contact Delia Packard and make good on my promise? She’s got my blood on her palm to force the issue if necessary.
I reach for the starter before I’ve made up my mind. I could take off now, leaving my few purchases for the hotel room’s next occupant, but I did promise to pick up a psychic werewolf. Dragging someone new into this drama feels bad. Real bad. But so does leaving her behind.
A flash of movement catches my peripheral vision. Something or someone cast a shadow in the glare of the overhead light, so quick only a vampire could have seen it.
So quick only a vampire could have made it.
