Page 35 of Fated to Monsters

“You don’t have cars where you come from?” Sydney opens a door on the side of the car and motions for me to enter. “You can sit in here. Dash, you okay sitting in the back?” He points across from my seat. “I have to drive otherwise you could sit up there with her.”

“Yeah, no problem at all. I’m just happy to be here.” Dash reaches for the handle the same way that Sydney had and slides into the seat behind mine.

I climb in, unsure what I’m supposed to do with my hands, and sit there, waiting for my next instruction.

Sydney shuts my door, closing me into this metal contraption, and walks around the front to get in the other side. He shoves a key into a slot and turns it, the death trap roaring to life and rumbling my entire body gently.

“What is that?” I fight the urge to panic. I am safe here, with Dash, with Sydney, in this foreign place.

“The motor.” Sydney pats thecarand reaches toward the door to retrieve a belt-like thing. "This is a seat belt. It keeps you from flying out of the car."

“I’m going to fly out of the car if I don’t put it on?” My heart picks up its pace. I thought my old world was threatening, but this is an entirely new kind of concern.

“Only in emergencies, like if we were to crash. It’s unlikely, but a precaution that I suggest taking.” Sydney latches his into a hook that seems to keep it in place.

I glance in the back. “Does Dash have one to keep him inside the car, too?”

Dash has his in his hand and secures it in the holder, leaving me the only one not belted in. “Got it.” His smile warms my heart more than the sun did my skin.

“So yeah, seat belt for the car that is fueled by gasoline. It’s not magic but it might as well be. I never really understood mechanics at all.” Sydney grips a stick with a ball on the end of it and moves it, causing a clunking of sorts to take place before the entire thing we’re in moves.

“We have wagons,” I say to distract myself. “They’re powered by magic, but usually only the wealthiest hunters can afford them. I’ve ridden in a few in the past. It was nothing like this. This is…” I run my hand over the door and the fabric of the seat. “More sophisticated.”

I push a button on the door, and the glass of the door lowers. I gasp. “Angels, I didn’t mean to do that. Did I break it?”

Sydney laughs again, his humor at my expense somehow making me feel less concerned. If I broke something, he probably wouldn’t find it funny.

“No, that’s the window. They go up and down. You can keep it down if you’d like.”

Dash pushes the button on his, too, lowering it and shoving his arm out of it, his fingers spreading and waving about delicately.

“Is he allowed to do that?” I turn toward Sydney.

“Absolutely. You can, too. Here, look.” Sydney follows suit and once his window is down, he puts his arm out, and weaves it about. “It won’t hurt you.”

Is that what I’m afraid of? Something hurting me? Haven’t I already been through enough in the past to not be fearful? Maybe it’s not fear of being hurt, but more-so fear of the unknown. I’ve always been in control of every aspect of my life. Down to the way I handled killing demons. I had a protocol and a specific method, and that all changed when I was tasked with the assassination of Wes.

I lost control, and since then, I’ve fought to regain my footing in life.

Nothing makes sense, and the more I try to figure it out, the more that unravels.

I’ve always been more of a loner, going through the motions of life on my own and dealing with problems myself when they arose. It worked that way. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. No demon too strong, no task too big. There was no teamwork, no concern for anyone else’s safety. I researched things, I paid attention, the risk was mine and mine alone.

Now, I worry about other people constantly and grow terrified that if I make the wrong decision or don’t do things correctly, they will suffer—or worse.

What if it’s my fault they get hurt or die? What if I don’t know all the variables, and I’m the reason for our demise? Things were different when it was just me, and that terrifies me worse than any monster ever could.

“Try it,” Sydney tells me with one hand out the window.

Carefully, I lift my arm, inching it toward the opening, the air whipping by my fingers. I push it through, somewhat expecting there to be pain or discomfort, but instead, a rush of adrenaline courses through me. I move my wrist, spread my fingers, and become one with the air cascading by.

“One of the simple pleasures of life.” Sydney glances over and looks back at the road.

“What do you mean?” I ask him with my hand still waving about like I’m attempting to catch the wind in my grasp.

“This, for instance.” Sydney holds his hand up higher and then swoops it down. “The sun on your face after a long winter. The first sip of your morning coffee. Canceled plans when you really wanted to stay in. Finishing a good book. Freshly baked cookies. Making someone you love smile.”

Hearing him rattle off examples makes me wonder what it would be like to live somewhere those things could actually happen. He doesn’t appear much older than me, but he speaks as though he’s lived such a grand life. I want that for myself one day, only, I’m not certain it’s possible, not after everything I’ve done. Do I really deserve any of it considering what I’ve put so many through?

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