Page 101 of Hunted By Fae
“It might be ok,” I go on, “and he might have stayed with his unit. But maybe not. If he has followed me… It isn’t good. We need to be prepared.”
The static returns through the CB for only a heartbeat before, “Hummus?”
My smile curves.
Not my idea to nickname Operation Dip ‘hummus’. That’s all Tesni. And I love her for it.
My answer is firm, slicked with a fatigued smile. “Hummus.”
“Ok.” No hesitation. “Where are you?”
“I’m in the city, in a grocery store—but I don’t know where exactly. Look, I need to find bleach and figure out where I am on the map. I’ll check back in with you soon. But get ready, ok?”
“Yeah. I’ll be ready.”
I hesitate. I ask because I must. “You won’t forget Emily?”
Static comes for a beat. “How could I?”
My smile is wry.
Tesni isn’t the most likeable woman around. Never has been. But I loved her the moment I met her at our house-share in London, lifetimes ago.
I saw her for what she was.
Tesni doesn’t have much patience for people or anything, really. Her grumpiness is that of an old Englishman’s. Her pessimism is perpetual.
Someone who doesn’t know her might see a stone woman, fearless in this world. But I see that the stone is a mere glass mask, cracked, and beneath the surface is fear.
Tesni is my absolute priority.
But Emily has grown on me since quarantine. She feels like one of us.
The thought of leaving her behind, it doesn’t come as easily to me as it does Tesni.
So I confirm, “You’ll get her out?”
The pause is thick.
I can just imagine her, chewing back venomous words she itches to lash at me, impatience rising through her, but she takes that moment to steel herself, as she always does with me.
Then, “I’ll get her out.”
“Wait for my signal.”
With that, I turn off the radio on my end.
Tesni will keep hers on.
I return to the road and walk, and walk, searching for another grocery store, another place to grab bleach, another place to hide out for a moment while I pause to check the map.
The muscles and bones of my arm are weeping.
Holding up the bracelet of nightlights to illuminate my path is getting to me. But I keep my arm upright, sweeping my gaze around the street signs I pass along the way—
And I stop.
My boots take root in the snow.
