“Really? Because I’m thinking it’s the bloody perfect time. TALK.”
I sigh, my eyes never leaving the twisting black shape behind us, even though it’s fading from sight. He’s not going to let this go, and it’s not like I have the ability to make him do so, so I do the unthinkable. “Fine. I’m . . .”—oh Gods I’m really telling him—“not quite Human. Not like you, anyway. I’m part of a race of beings called Magicals. More specifically, I’m a Creator, and that thing back there is what we call an Elder, which just so happens to be one of the first of my kind, if legends are to be believed. My ancestors went to war against them and sucked out all their essences. Since escaping from where they’ve been imprisoned for thousands of years, they make it a point to hunt us down and kill us out of revenge. I’m sort of a big get. I stupidly didn’t think about the Elders tracking me down when I ran away, because I’m clearly an idiot and really only thought about things like my broken heart, but here one is, and it won’t stop unless it gets me or I manage to get it first. Chances are, though, that guy who’s been stalking me at the diner has already called back home and a team is on their way to take care of it. Which means, if I don’t take care of it first, they’ll most likely find me, too, and I’m not ready to go back. Capiche?”
I’d barely taken a breath, spitting all that out. I don’t think Will took one while listening, either.
“I didn’t tell you before because telling non-Magicals about us is forbidden. Chances are, if they find me, they’ll find you, too, and they’ll punish you by erasing your memory. Which maybe you want after what’s going on. But I hope you can believe me when I say I was trying to protect you and your dad from my past.”
The truck spins around another corner. We’re miraculously on the outskirts of town without more outright attacks by any Elders.
He’s silent for a full minute before asking, “Are you an alien?”
I nearly choke. My laughter borders on hysteria. “What?! NO. I am most certainly not an alien!”
The truck slides across a lane. Why can’t I get these tires right?
Another minute ticks off between us. “Was it all a joke then? Playing . . . what. Friends? With a lowly little peon who works at a diner in Alaska and his dad?”
“Gods, no, Will!” I tentatively reach out a hand, but his arm jerks just out of reach. “When I left home, I thought I’d screwed myself out of any happiness in life. But I met you, and your dad, and Frieda and Ginny and Paul, and I realized . . .” I swallow. “You’re my best friend. You’re my family. No matter what else happens, I want you to know I will never regret meeting you.”
He sucks in his bottom lip, eyes glued on the road. I can’t tell if he’s angry, disgusted, scared, or bored, and that worries me almost as much as the thing following us.
“If we make it out of this,” I tell him quietly, “and you want to talk about who I am and what I’m capable of, then we will. Absolutely. I’ll tell you everything you want to know. But right now, we need to get this thing out into a less populated area so I can try to take it down.”
This finally earns me a quick glance. “Have you ever done so before?”
His question surprises me. “Uh . . . I’ve imprisoned some before. None of us have ever been able to kill them, though. They’re pretty much immortal.”
“Are you?” When I don’t answer, he clarifies, “Immortal?”
I shake my head. “These things . . . they’ve hurt me before. Last time, it took me by surprise. Broke a bunch of bones in my arm and one of my knees.”
His head whips to face mine, eyes wide in horror.
“Eyes on the road, Will.” I wait until he refocuses. “We . . . my kind. We have people who can heal others, like doctors. But you and I don’t have a Shaman with us today.” A quick scan shows we’ve lost the Elder for now, but I can’t find any optimism in the cab of this truck. “Whatever happens, if I tell you to leave me behind and drive away, I need you to do that, okay?”
The horror in his eyes transitions to incredulity.
“They’ve gone after people I cared about before. Nearly killed my cousin. Hurt—they hurt my fiancé. More than once.” I’m trembling all over. “It was—I can’t . . .” I slam my palms against the dashboard. “I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt because of me, too.”
His eyes refocus on the road. “You’re saying I’m a liability to you.”
Yes. In more ways than he knows.
He swears softly under his breath. “It doesn’t feel right, agreeing to that. I don’t leave my friends behind.”
I nearly melt in relief. Angry as he is, he still calls me a friend. “I know.” He lets me touch him now, my fingers cool against his arm. “And that’s one of the things I love best about you. But you’ll need to do it anyway.”
And yet, I get no promise from him in the end.