Page 68 of Catching Camila

She took the apartment stairs two at a time. She stumbled once, wrenching her sore ankle, which instantly began throbbing again. She gritted her teeth and ran. John, she thought. She had to find him. Would he be waiting for her in the shadows like he always was?

She skidded around the side of the apartment complex, dodging a broken beer bottle. The alleyway between two buildings was thick with morning shadow. She turned in. It would give her cover from the road while she thought. She pressed her back to the warm brick and turned her eyes to the clouds. How could she find John? He said he'd be waiting at the trailer park, but she couldn't go back there. Fer. She dug in her pocket for her cellphone, but her hand came up empty. It must've slipped out of her pocket when she was sleeping on the couch.

“Dammit,” she whispered, flicking her eyes to the street. The alleyway opened up to the parking lot and after that the main road. The forest waited on the other side. She could run across and into tree cover. From there, she'd circle back to the trailer park and hope John would find her. It was her only shot.

A shape streaked down from the sky and landed in front of her, sending the trash skittering in all directions. John! Her heart soared. The figure uncurled himself and lifted his head.

Nomad.

He was wearing jeans, brand-new sneakers, and a Pacer's T-shirt with crisp lines. He looked so much like John—brown hair, brown eyes, tall, and muscular—but without John’s kindness.

All good feelings drained away. John had told her to run if she ever saw Nomad again, and boy, was she willing to oblige. She stepped back, clutching the brick, her heart pounding.

Nomad smiled smugly at her. He tossed back a lock of dark hair and raised an eyebrow. “Whoa, mama, could you use a shower.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to tremble. “What do you want?” Her eyes flicked to the road. Clearly he could fly like John. Did he have other powers as well? Could she make it across the street before he pounced?

Nomad closed the gap between them, his eyes still on her. She shivered and shot a glance to the sky.

“Your boy isn't coming.” Nomad followed her eyes up to the clouds. “Busy. Sorry. Maybe later you two can rendezvous. That's what you lovers say, right? A little rendezvous.” He threw on a French accent and twiddled his fingers, waiting for her to react. “That’s French for… Do you know what rendezvous means?”

“If you touch him, I'll—”

“Oh, Camila— Mind if I call you Camila?” he asked, digging a bag of sunflower seeds out of his pocket. She watched as he pried open the bag with his teeth and tipped a large portion of seeds into his mouth. He paused, crunching, and offered her the bag. “Want some?” She shook her head. Nomad shrugged. “Camila, listen, I wanna help you out here. You've got spunk. It's kinda cute. But all this sass,” he waved his hand in the air, “is gonna get you killed, honey lamb.”

He spit a few seeds to the pavement. When he raised his eyes again, they were darker, colder. “I want you to understand,” he stepped closer and grabbed her wrist.

She struggled back, but his grip was iron, his hand a vise. He stared into her eyes. She could smell the wind on him and something else. Something animal.

He gripped her harder. She winced.

“He's got you thinking you're special,” Nomad said, revealing perfect white teeth. “But you're not. You're a complication. An annoyance. And hanging around us is going to get you killed.” He squeezed harder. Pain flared up her arm.

“Stop!” she said, scrambling back, her shoes scuffing into the brick.

“But doll face, if I stop, you'll never learn.” He pouted his lower lip. “It's like a wild dog, yeah? Get bitten once and you won't put your hands near its mouth again.”

She shook her head back and forth, the brick scraping against her skull. Her fingers were blue. Her arm was speckled red.

He smiled then, unable to control himself. “It's for your own good.” Then he wrenched her hand back, way, way too far.

There was a sickening pop.

Camila gasped. White-hot pain snapped from her wrist to her brain, blocking out all thought. Her knees sagged. Pain pulsed into her head. She slumped down the wall.

“See,” Nomad said, as he wrapped his arms around her chest and pulled her upright. “Now you know we bite. Even John. He'll bite when the time comes.”

Her body sagged against Nomad's as her mind floated somewhere out of reach, out of the pain that throbbed, throbbed, throbbed at the back of her mind. Suddenly, she felt a searing heat on her skin. Her eye's snapped open to see Nomad burning a shape into the brick with…his eyes?!

Oh God, she was going to die.

Nomad pushed up, lifting Camila with him. Her sneakers scraped against the pavement, then paddled through open air. They took off, shooting into the sky.

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