Chapter 009 — Don't Touch Her

They drove until noon. Evelyn pulled off at a roadside rest area in a stretch of pine forest — a single gas pump, a rusted picnic table.

The truck needed gas. Elias needed a bathroom. She needed two minutes to breathe.

She parked in the far corner, where the trees would hide them from the road.

Elias came around the front of the truck.

"Evelyn. Who are they?"

She leaned against the hood. The rest area was empty.

"I think they are people who used to know you. Before the rain. Before you forgot."

He digested this. He leaned against the truck next to her.

"Are they good people?"

"No."

"Are they going to hurt me?"

"They are going to try."

He nodded. He looked at his hands.

"Will you let them?"

"I will try not to."

"Evelyn. I don't remember them. But when the tall one looked at me this morning, I felt something. Like I should know him. But I was not afraid. I was angry."

She put her hand on his arm.

"Come on. Bathroom. Gas. We go."

They went inside. The restroom smelled like bleach and old pipe. She was reaching for the door when she heard it.

A sound on the roof.

Not a bird. Not a branch. A deliberate, heavy sound. Like boots.

Her hand went to the silver blade at her ankle.

"Elias. Out the back window. Now."

She pushed him toward the window. She kicked it open. She boosted him through. She climbed out after him.

They were on the far side of the building. The truck was on the near side. Between them and the truck was the gas pump, the picnic table, and the open asphalt.

And on the roof, silhouetted against the white sky, were two figures.

The tall one. The short one.

The tall one looked down at her. He smiled. He mouthed two words.

She read them.

Found you.

"Run."

They ran.

They made it to the truck. She unlocked the door. She pushed Elias into the passenger seat. She had the key in the ignition when the first hit came.

It hit the roof. The roof caved in. A dent the size of a fist. The truck rocked.

She floored it. The tires spun. They caught. The truck lurched onto the highway.

In the rearview mirror, the two figures did not get in a car. They jumped.

They jumped from the roof of the rest area to the ground, thirty feet, and landed like it was nothing. They moved between the trees at the edge of the highway, faster than any human could, gaining.

"Evelyn. They are running as fast as the truck!"

"I know, Elias, hold on —"

The second hit came. A weight on the back of the truck. Glass shattered. Something was on the roof, crawling forward, claws scraping metal.

A face appeared over the back of the seat — the short one, Corbin, his eyes wild, his teeth bared, reaching for Elias's collar.

Elias opened the door.

"Elias, no —"

He jumped.

He rolled. He landed on the asphalt. The truck swerved. Evelyn fought the wheel. She pulled to the shoulder. She was out and running.

Elias was on his feet. He was unsteady. His elbow was scraped. But he was standing in the middle of the highway, between the two figures and the truck, shaking, not moving.

"Hey. Leave her alone. Don't touch her. Come at me."

The tall one — Gareth — stood up from the roof of the truck. He smiled.

"Oh, Alpha. You have no idea how much I want to."

He moved.

Evelyn moved faster.

She pulled the silver blade from her ankle. She threw the bundled herbs from her coat pocket. They burst in the air — silver light, burning cedar, a flash like a struck match. Gareth flinched. The herbs caught his sleeve.

Corbin came at her from the side. She turned. She struck. The blade cut his forearm. He yelped. He threw her.

She went fifteen feet. She hit the guardrail. The wind went out of her.

"Evelyn!" Elias screamed.

He ran at Corbin.

Corbin backhanded him like he was swatting a fly. Elias went down. He got up. His lip was bleeding.

"Don't. Don't touch her."

Gareth stepped over to him. He crouched.

"Little king. You don't remember me. But I remember you. You used to make me kneel. And now look at you. You can't even stand."

Elias looked up at him.

His eyes changed.

Evelyn, on the ground, saw it. The gray drained. The gold came up — the real thing, molten and deep and ancient, the color of the sun seen through smoke. Something behind his eyes woke up, and the air in the highway got very cold.

Elias opened his mouth. He said one word.

It was not English. It was a low, guttural sound, like a bell struck under water. It came out of Elias's mouth like it did not belong to him.

Gareth stopped smiling.

He went down on one knee. Then both. His hands came up, palms out. His face went white. No sound came out.

Corbin, three feet away, did the same. He went to his knees. His whole body was shaking.

"Alpha," Gareth whispered. "Alpha — please —"

Elias stood over them. The gold was in his eyes. His face was empty.

Then the gold flickered.

It went out.

Elias blinked. He looked at his hands. He looked at the two kneeling wolves. He looked at Evelyn, slumped against the guardrail.

"What — what did I —"

His legs gave out.

Evelyn caught him. He was heavy. He was unconscious.

The two wolves stayed on their knees for a long time. Then Gareth looked up at her.

"You didn't tell him what he is. You kept him like a pet. And now he is waking up anyway. And when he wakes up, he is going to find out you lied. And then he is going to come for us. And then he is going to come for you."

He stood up. He pulled Corbin up. They backed into the trees.

Evelyn did not move. She held Elias. The truck was dented. The roof was caved in. The highway was empty.

She looked down at his face. He was breathing. He was alive.

And on his left wrist, faint and new and silver, she saw a thin, winding mark, like a delicate bracelet, glinting in the white light.

Gareth had touched him. Just for a second. Just long enough.

The tracking mark was on.