Song of the Fae

Chapter 3: The Bike

Chapter 3: The Bike

Outside the gate, Roshène’s courage deserted her again.

Hunter sat astride a silver and black motorcycle, settling a black helmet on his head. He beckoned her impatiently. “What? Have you never seen one of these before? Put this on.” He took the helmet hanging on the handlebar and held it out to her. “Come on, move,” he grated when she showed no sign of obeying him. “I realize you’ve not had much experience of this world, but if we don’t start soon, I guarantee you’ll regret it.”

The weight of the helmet, a twin to his—white with black zigzags running from front to rear—was an unpleasant surprise and, fumbling, she almost dropped it.

“Here.” He deftly removed the helmet from her and, with practiced ease, settled it over her head.

She began to hyperventilate. Get it off, get it off, she repeated silently, her breath coming in short gasps, her hands tugging at the helmet to remove it.

“Easy. Open your eyes, look at me.” Hunter gripped her wrists, restraining her but his voice stroked her nerves and soothed her panic and he waited until she met his gaze and the anxiety had receded before he spoke. “That’s better. The journey we’re taking may be difficult for you, but you’re on the path to freedom, and that needs courage. You can see out of the helmet, can’t you?”

She nodded.

“Okay, I’m going to fasten the chin strap.” His fingers were calloused and hot against her throat as he snapped the clips. “Turn your head.”

She swiveled her head to the left.

“And the other side.”

She turned to the right.

“Does it press anywhere too hard?”

The helmet and lining were snug but no, she felt no pressure anywhere.

He settled himself on the front seat. “Now, climb up behind me.”

“Do what?”

“I’m sure your hearing is fine. Climb. Up. On. The. Seat.” The power of command slid through his voice and he half turned and patted the pillion behind him as if she had doubts which seat he was referring to. “The sooner you’re on the bike, the sooner we can leave and put more distance between us and this Zelo of yours.”

“He’s not mine. Not ever,” she muttered but, accustomed to obey, she complied. Besides, having come this far without a plan, she’d be foolish to balk now.

“Put your foot on the peg here,” he pointed, “and throw your other leg over.”

Gritting her teeth and swallowing the urge to tell him she could figure that out for herself, she resisted shaking his hand off as he helped steady her while she followed his instructions.

“Keep your feet on those pegs.”

The engine snarled into life beneath her, and she was looking for something to hold on to when he seized her wrists. She went stiff.

“Believe me when I say I won‘t hurt you.” Hunter’s voice was soft. “I apologize for startling you. From here on out, I’ll give you a warning if I need you to do something. For now,” he carefully pulled her arms until her hands met around his waist. “Good girl, now grab hold of one wrist with your other hand or interlace your fingers,” he instructed. “Keep them there no matter how much you don’t want to or else you’re liable to overbalance us and cause problems. Okay?”

“Okay.” She was positive he was smirking at her discomfort as she pressed against his back, breathing in the smell of his jacket that somehow didn’t stink of exhaust fumes or gas but made her think of a lush green forest. She sensed he meant her no harm, but the only person she trusted completely was herself. Anyone could be persuaded to do Zelo’s bidding by force or bribery.

“This way I know you’re still with me and haven’t fallen off the bike,” he said. “I’d hate to have to explain to Kudzia why you were in the hospital or worse.”

With the threat of death or injury ringing in her ears, she tightened her hold around Hunter’s lean torso, turning her head sideways and resting her helmet against his back.

Without another word, he booted the kickstand, and the instant the metal beast beneath rumbled into motion, she realized the truth of Hunter’s words, and as their speed increased and they shot down the lane, she clung on tighter. He might be a hunter—as soon as she got a chance she’d ask him what or who he hunted—but for the moment, he appeared to be on her side.

He avoided the busier main roads, cutting across them if he had to, and stuck to minor roads.

Roshène noted that, as if by magic, he never caught a red light. Maybe it was magic and the thought made her smile.

The streets, shops, houses, cars and buses, bursting with the pulsing life of a city, flew past, and she understood they were leaving the center of a large metropolis. She found it hard to believe she’d lived with all this life and activity buzzing around her and never known anything of it. Of course, a place where humanity gathered was the perfect spot for a sorcerer, catering to the dark needs of others, to conceal himself. A do-not-see-me spell and all people saw was a terraced house. A stay-away spell to discourage nosey neighbors would result in people crossing the street, deciding there was nothing out of the ordinary to interest them. Yes, hiding in plain sight had worked a treat for Zelo.

The crowded urban streets became tree-lined avenues with large houses and green lawns bordered with flowers that invited her to come and play. At last, when she’d been sitting in the same position for so long she wasn’t sure she could move anymore, let alone get off the bike, he pulled into a gas station.

“You can let go now,” he said, laughing.

The sound was so full of good-hearted humor, her annoyance melted. “Just pick me up off the ground if I fall,” she replied.

He dismounted from the bike, his movements economic and graceful, while she stretched, shook her arms, massaged her hands and fingers and decided she’d never walk with her back or legs straight again.

“There’s a bathroom over there,” he pointed to the left of the building after removing her helmet. “I’ll pick us up some food,” he said as he filled the tank. “Go on, I’ll wait outside for you.” He nodded at an older woman who walked past, and for a second she saw him as the woman did: tall, lean muscled, light silver-gray eyes, straight nose and full lips topped with a shock of dirty blond hair.

The woman almost simpered, and for the first time since she’d met him, Roshène glimpsed the bright shimmer of danger surrounding him, warning others off: warrior and killer, it said. She walked as fast as possible to the bathroom.

Inside the stall, she leaned against the door, grateful to be out of his intimidating presence for a short while as a thought grew horrifyingly large in her mind: had she replaced one prison with another?

She was calmer as she examined her new reflection in the mirror a few minutes later. No, Zelo wouldn’t recognize her in a crowd, but he had other means of tracking her…her trimmed hair, her blood. His constant refrain that it was for her protection had made no sense, but now…she shivered. She’d finished washing her hands when she spotted the small open window above the cracked sink. Hunter and Kudzia had helped her without knowing who or what she’d run from, but they had shared little about themselves or their reasons. It was possible, despite everything indicating otherwise, they might want to enslave her for their own purposes.

Using the sink, she boosted herself up to the window. Hunter wouldn’t even know she’d gone and wouldn’t leave his precious motorcycle to come searching for her. He’d surely be relieved to get rid of her, anyway. It was a tight squeeze, but she managed, with a fair bit of wriggling, to shimmy herself through the gap and drop to the ground. She was about to set off for the tree-covered hill behind the gas station when Hunter’s hard fingers gripped her neck.

“Not leaving me already, are you?” His breath was warm on her ear as he bent close. “Tut, tut. Not the way to treat someone trying to help you, is it?”

His grip wasn’t tight, but she heard the threat under his words and recognized that, for the moment, she wasn’t going anywhere without his permission. She stood motionless, her heart beating faster, waiting for punishment.

“Shh, how many times do I have to repeat myself before you understand that I won’t hurt you?”

She studied the dusty earth, full of grit and tiny stones, not meeting his eyes in a submissive posture she hoped would pacify him and didn’t answer. Talking wouldn’t help her.

“This,” his grip shifted from her neck to her wrist, “isn’t a punishment, but I insist you wear it,” he said, snapping an engraved silver bracelet around her wrist. “I could have put it on at Kudzia’s but I judged you too skittish in an unknown house with two strangers, and it would have made getting you out of there more challenging.” He studied her face as the sigils flickered to life, emitting a brief bright glow and the heavy band sank into her skin.

“What have you done?” She pressed her fingers against her skin, feeling the band below the surface. “Take it off!” A flush of power bloomed, then settled and her awareness of the bangle disappeared.

“That doesn’t give me any power over you if that’s what worries you. It’s a tracker so I can find you if you decide to skip out on me again.” He laid a heavy hand on her shoulder and turned her toward the gas pumps. “Let’s move it. We have a long way to go.”

She swallowed and began counting as they left the bathroom area. By number fifty-six they’d reached the motorcycle, she’d composed herself, and the tears building inside and threatening to overwhelm her subsided.

Hunter drove past the freeway on-ramp and they continued on the minor roads.

After an hour of sitting with her hands clasped around his waist, resting against his back, aware of the hard muscles moving under his skin, swaying in synch with him as he rode the curves, the bike leaning into the bends, she was no longer frightened. The straggling suburbs became smaller until there were long stretches of nothing but fields of ripening wheat. She wouldn’t have admitted it under torture, but she relished the freedom and exhilaration of the ride.

The sun sat low in the sky amid a lurid display of crimson and plum when they next stopped to refill the bike’s tank.

Roshène dismounted, pleased to find herself less stiff than previously and informed him, a defiant look in her eye, that she needed the bathroom.

He grabbed her arm and his pupils turned from silver to a hard slate gray. “I have taken on the task of keeping you safe, and if I have to shackle you to accomplish this, so be it. Understand?”

“Isn’t that thing enough?” She wrenched her arm out of his grip and stalked off, not wanting or caring to hear his answer. Inside the bathroom, the band glowed again, translucent under her skin. She bristled with contained fury. All she’d done was swap one jailer for another.

He was waiting outside when she exited, taking her arm and directing her toward the café next to the gas station. “You know the bracelet lets me know what you’re doing, don’t you?” He shot her a look to check her reaction, laughing as her cheeks turned as scarlet as the sunset. “Oh, that was far too easy. Can’t you tell when someone’s having a little fun?”

She ignored him. No, she couldn’t tell. Neither she nor any of the other girls had much time or inclination for jokes. They were too beaten down to do anything other than be grateful for any brief respite they got.

He chose a booth facing the door and the exit, waiting until she took her seat, then sat beside her, blocking off any escape she might try, ordering for both from the tired waitress who appeared at their table.

She picked at the fries and left the burger, but asked if she could have another choco-mint milkshake, deciding she wouldn’t mind living on those.

“Be careful of drinking too much when we’re on the bike,” he remarked, a gleam of amusement in his eye, “you’ll need the bathroom more often.”

That put an end to her enjoyment, but she didn’t blush, raising her eyebrows at him instead. “Do all males enjoy toilet humor?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as he wolfed down the last of his meal with gusto.

“Glad to see you still have some sass in you,” he said, chucking her cheek as if she were a child.

She brushed his hand away, biting back the don’t touch me that itched to burst from her mouth. He liked sassy, did he? Well, let her recover from the years with Zelo and she’d show him sass in spades.

As they prepared to leave, she lifted the helmet, silencing the groan at more hours on the bike, and fastened the clips herself. See. I’m learning new skills already.

They stopped once again for gas and a bathroom break, and Hunter bought snacks and a few supplies, stuffing them into the saddlebags either side of the bike.

Deep purple twilight replaced daylight, and domesticated fields became forested uplands as the route threaded its way, a gray ribbon, through the landscape. The road narrowed and tall trees, outlined by the bike’s headlights, loomed either side when Hunter slowed to a stop.

“Okay, off the bike.”