Raindrops dance along the windshield of Ellery’s SUV, the sound mimicking the sad tap dance my heart’s doing inside my chest. Ellery starts the car to get the heat going, and we both sit and stare out at my Bronco as a man straps the mangled mess onto the long flatbed of a tow truck. I pick at a thread that’s bordering a hole in the knee of the artfully-distressed black jeans I’m wearing, and try not to cry.
“What happens now?” I ask, hating the ache that bleeds into every word.
Everything’s gone. My entire life, the things I’ve worked so hard for, are now at the bottom of a lake or destroyed by whatever or whoever used my car as a punching bag. The asshole that dumped it here didn’t push it far enough into the body of water for it to sink beneath the surface, and a fisherman happened to spot it. I don’t know if I’m grateful or sorry that he did.
“Our crime lab will process it,” Ellery answers. “They’ll run spells and other tests to see if there’s any evidence they can find pointing to who might have done this.”
The witches who magically pulled the SUV out of the lake stand together in a little huddle discussing something. The same spell they used to pull my car to shore now floats above their heads, keeping the rain from soaking them through.
Hollowly, I stare out the window, keenly aware of my reality and the blow I’ve just taken with the loss of my vehicle and things. As pissed and downhearted as I am, it doesn’t feel as catastrophic as it might have a week ago. I guess that’s what getting attacked and finding out that your entire life is a lie will do to you. It takes a lot more to land on the my life is over list now.
“I’m sorry,” Ellery somberly offers me, his eyes tracing over the broken pieces of my Bronco, like he wishes he could put it all back together for me and make it right.
I sigh and stop picking at the loose threads around my knee, smoothing the mint-green rain jacket that I’ve folded into my lap.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, because I know you’re doing everything you can and I appreciate it, but I’m just so fucking mad,” I snarl, fisting my hands in my coat. “I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this enraged in my life. I just want to find whoever did this to me and rip them apart the same way they tore my life into fucking tatters. And for what?” I demand as I turn to Ellery. “Why put me in the Hunt? Why pummel my car and dump it? Why break into my room? What’s the point of any of it?”
A jolt of shock flashes across his face, and then a small tic of amusement starts at the corner of the sheriff’s mouth. The unexpected emotion makes me flounder.
“I swear to fuck, Ellery, you better not be smiling while I’m raging, or I might try to punch you,” I warn. “I know you’re the big scary celestial and you could wipe the floor with me and then arrest me afterward, but I’ll happily bite off more than I can chew right here, right now.”
His wobbly half smile morphs into a full-blown beaming grin, and a growl works its way up my throat.
Ellery’s hands snap up in surrender. “It’s your wolf,” he quickly defends before I can lunge for him. “Your eyes are glowing right now, and it’s why you feel so volatile—not that any of this isn’t enraging,” he explains, gesturing to everything that’s happening on the other side of his windshield. “It just took me by surprise to see your wolf peeking out at me.”
Spinning in my seat, I flip down the visor and angle the mirror at my face. I reel back when, sure enough, my eyes are glowing a bright teal color. I check my cheeks and neck for black veins and then push up my sleeves to examine my arms when I don’t spot any streaks of black.
“What does this mean?” I ask, leaning closer to the mirror on the visor and turning my head from side to side so I can study my eyes. They start to dim and I don’t know if I’m disappointed or grateful.
“If I had to guess, you’ll probably be ready to shift soon,” he answers, and when I look over at him, there’s an undeniable twinkle in his eyes. “We should get going,” he announces, clearing his throat and straightening in his seat. “Before this storm unleashes the way it looks like it wants to.”
I press the visor back to the roof of the 4Runner and pull my seat belt across my chest and buckle it. I take one last look at my battered Bronco, and then Ellery puts his SUV in gear and we start backing away.
It’s a strange, sad sort of goodbye that drifts through me as the lake and the tow truck with my car on it grow further and further away. In a sense, it’s like I’m shutting the door on a life that isn’t mine anymore, and while it’s sad, what I’m facing on the other side doesn’t feel so insurmountable anymore.
Or maybe I’m just numb.
Perhaps I’ve hit my limit of shit I can handle and all that’s left is acceptance or insanity?
We start to drive down the mountain, and the onset of dusk makes the clouds look twice as menacing—thicker and darker than they were just minutes ago. The storm churns every sliver of fading sunlight from the sky, mixing in shadows until it’s a somber iron gray.
The speakers of the car chime with an incoming call, and I see Perth’s name pop up on the dash display before Ellery answers.
“Any luck?” he asks, and Perth huffs in answer.
“Deputies are checking the whole floor, which rules out the other room we were using,” Perth tells him, and a trickle of relief spills through me, because I don’t think I could stay on the same floor as before even if it were an option. “The only other available room is a second floor terrace.”
Immediately Ellery starts to shake his head. “Yeah. I don’t like that either. If the twelfth floor didn’t deter them, the second floor would be a cake walk, and a terrace might as well be a fucking invitation,” the sheriff growls.
“Agree,” Perth pipes out. “That pretty much rules out the small motel too, because Harrold won’t clear out the other guests that are already staying there. Karen offered for Noah to stay with her, but Fife said he thought the apartment above Internet Trolls might be empty, so I’m headed there now to see if a short-term rental might be an option.”
“Okay, keep us posted. We’re headed back into town now,” Ellery orders.
“Will do,” Perth agrees and the call ends.
Ellery’s foot is gentle on the gas as we wind up a road that’s more gravel than asphalt, the black tar worn down to nearly nothing. I’m grateful to be on the side of the car that hugs the mountain, because the sheer drop on the other side is alarming.
The chill of the air and my thoughts collide to make goose bumps pebble along my skin as I stare at the sheriff. A five o’clock shadow darkens his chiseled jaw, and his expression is intense, focused on the road, squinting against the rain now falling in sheets.
He really does take my safety seriously. He and the guys are doing everything they possibly can. Each action they take—watching over me and answering my questions, cooking me food, the non-stop work on my case, this search to find me somewhere new to stay…
My vision becomes as smeared as the windshield, and I have to glance out the side window, because it’s on the tip of my tongue to ask Ellery if I can stay with them.