Roxanne Fosch Files Collection

Chapter 3

I stayed on the run for two weeks, stopping for nothing, making do with energy bars and gas station bathroom breaks whenever I could. But I caught no tails, saw no familiar SUVs, no familiar faces or uniforms.

The rain hadn"t let up for more than a few hours at a time, and a lot of towns I had passed by were talking about floods, inundation and higher grounds. I was still in Idaho, moving from one small town to the next, because PSS facilities were found in bigger cities, metropolitan areas with military bases. During the year and a half since I escaped, I"d been found only three times, counting the vampire two weeks ago.

I spotted a road—a waterlogged trail with tire marks and patches of dry weeds in the middle—and decided to follow it, knowing those usually took me to very small towns and villages. I needed a respite, a bed, a substantial meal to eat… a cup of coffee. My stomach growled like an engine, and I popped open my last warm soft drink and guzzled it down, knowing I"d need a bathroom break soon. The sky was beginning to darken, even if sunset was still a few hours away.

It took me a while and a little backtracking, but finally I found the town"s B & B, just a rundown, two-story brick building that had seen better days—probably before the revolution. I glanced at the rearview mirror, winced at my reflection, the dark pockets under my eyes, my greasy hair, not to mention the obnoxious stink wafting off me.

* * *

I awoke to the incessant sound of my grumbling stomach and the pounding rain, and took a fast, hot shower. Then I drove to the laundromat I"d spotted last night when I"d been searching for an inn, paid the required coins and filled the machine with my stinky clothes. To give my legs some much-needed stretching, I ran the three blocks to the town"s only mall under the rain.

I had just taken a bite of my turkey sandwich when there was that horrible sound of a booming crash of expanding air.

Kaboom! Like the sound of a whip lashing, followed by the rumble of the giant rocks. Then a second one, closer, louder. It was like the world was breaking apart. A glance up at the rafters showed they were fine, the metal sheets hadn"t come down, yet. I have never been afraid of thunder, but this one had my veins filling with icy dread.

Bad omen. I sipped from the coffee, but the uneasiness didn"t wash down. I shifted in my seat and wondered what other surprises fate had under her sleeve for me. Almost as soon as the thought crossed my mind I shoved it away, afraid to tempt fate.

Ah, fickle fate, who would rather throw me into an endless abyss.

And on the next deafening kaboom, I noticed a man coming towards me… focused on me. A chill went down my spine, and my heart skipped a beat before I could think reasonably. This was a public place, there was no need for alarm or anxiety. I was too stressed out. I took a sip of my coffee, and the caffeine calmed me down—and had ire coursing through my veins. Couldn"t I finish my breakfast in peace, without attracting any attention?

I watched him approach, doing nothing to hide my annoyance. Maybe he"d get the hint.

Yeah, right.

I resumed eating, watching as the guy kept coming in my direction.

When he was fifteen feet away, his aura flickered into existence. The food in my mouth suddenly gained a cardboard quality, and I took a sip of the coffee to help ease it down. A nervous chill fluttered in my gut. Outwardly, nothing showed. My heart picked up a wild beat and blood roared in my ears.

Because, oh s**t, the man approaching me was not an ordinary human. The tall man dressed in the olive green wool coat approaching me was a preternatural… a mix between born vampire and wolf?

According to Dr. Maxwell"s journal, a born vampire had a yellowish aura, a thin line that contoured around the body; the were-animal had a dark green one. The man now approaching had some kind of twisted double line, like a DNA helix. Not long ago, I"d have assumed he was something else, but I learned to interpret people"s aura as a necessity for my survival. It"s funny how people manage lots of things when properly motivated.

Ever since I escaped the headquarters, preternaturals were the people I absolutely had to avoid, since most were mercenaries for hire and the PSS had no qualms hiring one or three after me. I couldn"t tell friend from foe, so I cut myself from the preternatural community – and any helpful guidance, something I desperately needed.

I took a bite from my turkey sandwich and washed it down with the coffee. I tasted neither. My stomach, already uneasy, roiled and threatened to return the few bites I had taken. I scanned my surrounding with a casual sweep. Although the food court was almost empty, there were people, innocent people nearby, and it bothered me. Did he think if he approached with witnesses nearby I"d accompany him, rather than make a scene?

Oh, but he was sorely wrong.

I cared nothing if the world discovered about us preternaturals. And yet, I"d heard it was bad business for hired mercs to get caught by ordinary humans performing any kind of abnormal activity. Or was he considering using them as leverage in exchange for my cooperation? I glanced around, taking a sip of my coffee to cover the motion and took count. Four people. Two women chatting excitedly about someone"s wedding and someone named Josh Jr. who was the total douche canoe. Another girl, who looked young enough to be ditching school, texted furiously on her cell, and the fourth was a middle-aged woman eating some pastries, a reproachful look aimed at the ditcher, a cart full of groceries parked beside her. They were seated on the opposite side of the food court—not far enough, but it had given me the illusion of solace when I"d arrived.

Four people. Not what one would have expected with the storm in its full glory outside. Any other town and there would have been a couple dozen people waiting out the downpour to pass.

Four people. Not enough to really count… They were four too many.

Regardless of my uneasiness, I didn"t know if I"d risk my life, my freedom, for someone else"s. I wasn"t selfish, or I didn"t like to think I was. However, I"d seen too much suffering and pain to risk my going back to the PSS over someone I never met. Besides, I harbored no fantasy of superwoman. I"d give my abilities up without hesitation to take back my life where I left it ten years ago.

All those rambling thoughts passed through my mind between a step and another.

I took another bite of my sandwich, chewed a couple of times and swallowed the lump, almost choking when it refused to go down. I immediately took a sip of coffee and the liquid burned all the way down to my stomach. I barely noticed it. My heart raced wildly—and if his vampire senses were trained enough, he"d hear its faint thump thump thump the moment he reached me. At least, that"s what I assumed. I wasn"t a vampire and I could hear other people"s heartbeats, provided I was close enough and listening for them. I took steadying deep breaths, slowing it down enough to pass as normal.

When he was over me, I glanced at him, as if his presence had just registered through. He gave me a lopsided, dazzling smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. I smiled back, a polite, distant smile and took a sip of the coffee, but I didn"t touch the sandwich.

“That"s a hell of a downpour,” he said, shaking his head and pulling the chair across from mine. “Mind if I sit here?”

“I don"t see why you should,” I murmured into my coffee. My voice was low enough to be muffled by the sound of the pounding rain on the rafters, but I was sure he could hear me loud and clear. Which he ignored, as I expected he would. My mind whirled with possibilities of skedaddling out of there. Absently, I noticed small things. He had a cup like mine in his hand, which he placed on the table in front of him. Since Starbucks was slightly to my back and there was a tall beam that blocked my peripheral view of it, it could explain why I hadn"t spotted the man at first. His hands were broad around the tall cup, his fingernails clean and clipped.

“So, are you new in town? Haven"t seen you around before.” He took a sip from his cup, his eyes intent on mine.

That threw me. Was he a local, just passing time in a mall?

I shrugged. “Just meeting a friend. Guess the storm held him up.”

“Oh,” he said with interest, “who?” He had dark, stormy grey eyes, his irises ringed in black.

“Josh Jr.,” I replied without thinking. Yeah, Josh Jr. the douche.

His lips pursed and his eyebrows went up a fraction. Was that humor in his eyes? Of course, he could have overheard the conversation just as easily as I did.

“But where are my manners?” I asked with an abashed expression and extended my hand. Something flickered in his eyes, quickly masked. I went on, “Name is Eliza. Friends call me Liz.”

“Logan Graham,” he said, engulfing my hand in his large one, “and the lack of manners is totally mine.” He gave me a sheepish smile, my hand still in his. “Your beauty sort of distracted me.”

Well, I"ve heard cheesier. Not so subtly I tugged my hand free and “accidentally” bumped my cup of coffee with my elbow. It fell and spilled hot coffee all over my lap.

Shit, it was hot. I stood, toppling over my chair with an unbelievably loud crash, gaining the attention of the other occupants of the food court. Surprised, Logan jumped up, and, like magic, produced a wad of napkins. I took them, and with a grimace began patting myself dry. All four women watched us avidly.

From under my lashes, I noticed Logan reach with a napkin, hesitate and drop his hand again.

Yeah, that"s right. You try that and I"ll bite it off.

I dropped the mess of crumpled, stained napkins on the table and looked up at him with an apologetic, chagrined smile. “I am so clumsy.” I gestured down to my black, low riding pants as if he hadn"t noticed them before.

“Ah, uhmm, guess I"ll go to the restroom, see what I can do about this.” Again I motioned downward, noticing Logan wasn"t saying anything. Had I overplayed this act? I cleared my throat, feeling a mortifying flush creeping up my neck. “Uhmm, if—” Was that exasperation or frustration I saw? I cleared my throat again, my flush deepening. “Ah, if Josh Jr. arrives, would you mind telling him I"d be right back?”

I hoped fate wasn"t so cruel as to send Josh the douche swaggering into the food court just then.

Logan frowned and looked around, his grey eyes—wolf eyes—skimming the food court in a way that I could tell observed everything and missed nothing. They were trained eyes.

My heart skipped a beat, but I managed to tamper down on it. I picked up my purse, left my jacket and food, and got going while the going was still good. I moved as fast as possible without giving the impression I was running.

There were eyes on me all the way to the restroom, and I was aware more than Logan watched the progress. Had I pulled a convincing act, or had I been too obvious? Vaguely, I wondered what kind of gossip would be told about the sudden appearance and mysterious disappearance of Josh"s “friend”. And my beloved baby blue Prada?

I sniffed, opened the door to the restroom and stepped inside.