Chapter Twenty-Nine – Ryder

 

“Take it that went worse than you imagined,” Esther said from behind me, a little sigh to her voice.

I sighed. “Yeah. Just about.” I turned around to face her, my whole body feeling like it was about to deflate. Like someone had just twisted off my air cap and released everything that had been holding me up.

Esther shook her head as she glided behind the front desk and gave me a look, her brow furrowed. She breathed deeply, her nostrils flaring a little. “Well, at least you know where you stand with her now.”

I knew I shouldn’t have told her. But what other option did I have? Continue to lie about who I really was? About what a life with me would be like? Because I would have spent my life with her. How would I explain it to her, though, when she did finally catch me in the act? I ran a hand down my face again, an action that was sickeningly familiar at this point. I felt like my fingertips were more acquainted with the contours of my cheek and jaw after the last day, than they ever had been with even my sidearm’s trigger.

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess. Not exactly the way I wanted this to end up, though.”

“Believe me,” she said. “It’s always a long shot with a human. There’s no telling how the cookie will crumble. Just that it will.”

I spoke through gritted teeth. “Look, I know you mean well, Esther. But, right now, I don’t feel like talking about it. I still have to prep, and maybe catch some rack time, and I’ve only got two hours left before the truck arrives.”

She held up her hands like the warning shot had been recognized for what it was. “Fine, Ryder. Don’t listen to my advice.”

Yeah, like her advice hadn’t gotten me here in the first place. No, that wasn’t right. She’d told me the exact same thing Kris, Tabitha, Samuel Fitzgerald, or the rest of Full Moon Security would’ve said: if you’re going to fall for a normal, get it out of the way now, before things become more serious, and it’s even harder to call it quits. Because once things have gone on for too long, the pain of pulling away will be even harder.

The only problem was, the advice had been right. I wasn’t sure if that was more upsetting, or less.

Right then, I don’t think I gave a fuck.

“I’m going out to my car to get some gear from the trunk,” I growled, turning for the front door.

“Are you sure?” she asked my back. “Don’t you think that’s—”

I was already outside, though, and the door slamming shut behind me clipped off her sentence before she could finish. Without bothering to cock my ear to the side, or look up and down the street, I marched out to the Charger. Each step was like thunder as I stomped across the lawn and the gravel lot. Behind me, the High Street Hotel continued to crumble. Around me, the cool spring wind continued to blow, rustling the leaves and whistling over the windows.

The world was unflinching despite the pain in my gut, despite the agony I was feeling inside. It was as unmoved as the mountain is when faced with a hopeful climber.

Because the world doesn’t care about any of those things. It’s going to continue on no matter what. People will die; things will continue to fall apart. Life will continue on. Or not.

But how bad you feel? That doesn’t figure into it one bit. Your lost love, your pain at your dead father or fallen friends? None of that is included in the ineffable calculus of the universe. Plainly put, it doesn’t give a shit about you.

I ran my hand over the fender of my dependable Charger, silently relishing how sturdy the old steel car felt. They didn’t build ’em like this anymore. No, sir. I ran my hand all the way down its profile, the tips of my fingers trailing behind me as I walked its full length from front to end.

I popped the trunk and grabbed my duffel, slamming it shut again more loudly than I should have.

I gritted my teeth, clenched my free hand into a fist. Rejected. Rejected for what I was. For what I could never change, even if I tried. And for her, I might even have considered it.

Slowly, I shook my head. No, changing yourself like that wasn’t the answer. Never the answer. You can’t just suddenly be something you’re not, or stop being what permeates through to your very core. You’re either you. Or you’re not.

And the same went for her.

We’re all human, after all. Even if, at the end of the day, we really aren’t.

One hand on my sidearm, and my duffel hanging from the other, I marched right back across the street. Midway, I stopped in my tracks, looked back up towards Christina and Jeff’s street.

I’d heard something. And it was too early for the promised salt truck.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I heard it again.

A soft sound of discontent. A raowr coming from down the street. Another growling yowl joined the first, harmonizing like two singers in Hell’s choir.

My mouth went dry. My heart began to race. I tightened my grip on my sidearm as I turned to face the source. “Come on,” I whispered. “Come on. Gimme something, here.”

Nothing, just the scrabbling of feet on rocks, of claws on cans and bottles. Another angry yowl, followed by another. The sound of two cats fighting. Maybe over a mate?

I took my hand from my sidearm as I dropped the duffel to the gravel parking lot and stepped towards where I’d first heard the sound coming from, teeth bared. I didn’t know what exactly they were grousing over, but its being over a mate would be fitting, wouldn’t it? Just to prove that it all came back to love? To wanting to be accepted? To proving that you’re good enough, no matter who you are?

Still nothing.

The coppery taste of blood practically bubbled at the back of my throat as my taste buds cried out with want.

Mouth dry, fingers nearly curling into claws, I took two more steps forward. Before I could stop myself, I’d already taken another. And another, a growl growing in my throat as my lips drew back farther from my teeth.

“Ryder,” a voice hissed from behind me. “Ryder, what do you think you’re doing?”

I whipped around to face the hotel, my hands up defensively. How dare someone question me?

Esther stood there, pity filling her eyes as she shook her head.

The ire building in my body seemed to fade, if only a little, as I saw the disappointment in her eyes.

“No, this isn’t good,” she continued, still shaking her head. “You need to get a handle on yourself. This is just the ticket working on you. You can fight this, Ryder.”

I took a deep, bone-rattling breath, looking down at my hands. Dark, blue-black fur had sprouted from my arms in sparse patches. Oh God. It was getting worse.

The old witch waved me towards her. “Come on, Ryder, let’s get you inside. It’ll be okay. You’ll have more than your chance to fight, soon. Just not now.”

I looked up from her to my hands again, my nose nearly twitching at how wrong this all felt. At how awful everything seemed. I took another deep breath, this one less shaky than before. Before I even realized what I was doing, I was on the small porch in front of her, my head hanging in shame. “Okay, Esther,” I said with a nod. “Okay.”

She hustled me inside like a mother goose, securely shutting the big double door with the face of Janus on the front.

“How’re you feeling?” she asked as I dropped the duffel back at my feet in a clang of metal and wood.

Already the bloodlust was fading. The hot taste of delicious blood on the back of my tongue had faded away to nothing but ashes, leaving an acrid taste in the back of my mouth.

Esther came up next to me as I stood in front of the lobby desk. “Did you need another scotch?”

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts a little. “No. Water. Just water. I don’t think booze is a good idea right now.”

“Probably right,” she said, smiling wanly. “Probably right. I have some mint water in the bar. Think you’ll be fine up here by yourself?”

I nodded as I put a hand on the solid desk, squeezed the wood edge till it nearly hurt. “Yeah. That was just a lapse. I’ll be fine.”

She went to leave, but not before giving me a sad, slightly distrustful look.

“Go,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

She nodded as if she were uncertain, then turned and glided back down the hall.

Closing my eyes tightly, I swallowed hard as I leaned against the front desk. Blood still rushed in my ears, and my temples pounded, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been just minutes earlier. Not for the first time, exhaustion weighed down my limbs as I struggled to bring my arm up to check the time. This had been a long thirty-six hours, and I was drained. Parched. Like a lonely tree in the desert, with the infinite heat of the sun pressing down on me.

Esther was back moments later, pressing a cool glass of water into my hands. “Drink.”

I lifted the glass to my lips, the cool liquid, with its mint flavoring, rushing down my throat and soothing my body as it filled my stomach. I handed the empty glass back to the surprised-looking Esther. “Thanks,” I said, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth.

“Why don’t you lie down for a minute? Your room’s still vacant.”

I smirked a little. Of course it was. I flipped my wrist around, checking the time. Still well over an hour. Plenty of time for a bit of rest. “Yeah. Think I’ll do that.”

Duffel bag back in hand, I made my way upstairs. One hand fishing in my pocket for my keys, I headed down the hall.

With the glamour spell Esther had cast on the town countered, the hallway looked more true to itself. The previously vibrant emerald carpet was threadbare and stained, and old pictures with worn frames hung from walls covered in cracked and flaking paint.

Age and dust hung in the air as I stopped for a moment in front of Stephanie’s room. I cocked my head to the side, trying to catch some sound of her. Some bit of her I could hold onto as I lay down for a moment.

Light, even breathing. No tears, no sniffles. Just muffled breaths, as if the side of her face was pressed into a pillow.

Asleep.

I breathed out sharply through my nose.

Yeah. Good idea.

I unlocked my room door and let myself inside. I put my duffel at the foot of the bed, then went and put my sidearm away on the nightstand. I dropped myself onto the sagging mattress. It was less firm and springy than I remembered, but I just chalked it up to the spell having played with my perceptions.

Hands in my lap, I stared at the telephone on my nightstand, trying to decide if I should call Tabitha. Finally, I put my hand on the receiver, my thumb stroking the old, heavy plastic housing. They didn’t build stuff like they used to. Heavy, with a sense of solidness. Not cars, not pots and pans, not even phones.

I willed myself to pick up the phone, to just call her and give an update.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t seem to get my hands to move towards the receiver, to pick it up, place it at my ear, dial the number. To let her know that I was okay, that we had a plan.

For whatever reason, though, I didn’t. My hand pulled away and returned to my lap, seemingly of its own accord.

Instead, I lay back on the mattress, my head settling into the surprisingly comfortable pillow. I stared up at the ceiling, watching the light and shadows dance. In the next room, Stephanie continued to breathe lightly and evenly. To slumber the sleep of the beautiful and innocent.

I wished I could have had that kind of sleep.

Finally, I closed my eyes, allowing the darkness to take me.