Episode 3
1536 Words
I don't know what I expect. I only know that I have to escape and have to help Faith, who sways numbly beside me. I have to show her the sun. She's silent, her face slick with sweat and eyes bulging. I'd be worried less if she was screaming.
But the man pounces on me. So tall and graceful, in less than a second, his long arm wraps around my neck. His body weight presses me into the cold ground. I scream. I claw. I break a nail on the wooden slats, and when I look at my fingertips, I can't tell what blood is mine and what belongs to Jack. Another wail rips from my throat and the corners of my mouth are met by the harsh cut of rope.
"If you humans want to act like prey, you'll be treated like prey." He huffs, put upon, as if I've caused him some great big annoyance. "Three humans to get in the car and police to deal with? Why's my job gotta be so hard?"
My ankles are jerked up to my wrists. I cry out. I try to shape Faith's name, but the sound comes out warbled behind the rope.
"Sorry, pretend wolf."
I look up at the strange, beautiful man. He's holding a giant flashlight, bigger than my head. The lightbulb hums with strange electricity, a soft purple flickering on the tendrils curled up under the glass. He holds it high above his head and the little purple flickers bring out his glowing eyes. They look like ice.
I try to wriggle away. I cry out--I don't know what I say. Is it a beg for mercy? A beg to die? I can barely move an inch.
The light comes crashing down on my head. Stars leap to my eyes, but only for a moment, before the blinding pain is the only thing I can feel. It's the only thing in my world.
I dream, for a moment, of Jack's warm skin and my head nestled in his chest. And then there is nothing.
***
I wake up with a start. The sky is a soft, rolling pink, and fuzzy blue dice dangle from a rearview mirror. My hands are lashed behind my back; I'm in a passenger seat, I realize. My head hurts.
It rushes back like scenes from a horror movie. The red-eyed men. The gunshot. Jack. And the strange, beautiful creature whose driving. My mouth tastes like blood.
The stranger is focused ahead, his eyes narrowed. From the side, I can see the purple of a bruised cheek and the length of his strange, pointed ears. He doesn't turn to me.
"Can you read a map, human?"
"I'm not going to help you."
"I saved your life. And your friend's."
I jerk my head around, sending a bolt of pain through my neck. Sure enough, there Faith is, passed out in the back of the car on white leather seats. Her pale skin is caked in dry blood, but she is unmistakably alive.
"As soon as I knocked you out, she sprang to life. I didn't know someone so cute could be so vicious."
"You're not the only man who said that," I say, a small smirk seeking its way out across my face . It hits me so hard. Jack is dead. Jack is dead and I'm smiling. Another sob wells up again, and the man takes his hand off the steering wheel. This time it's just a single finger that touches my lips.
"Your fiance is in the trunk."
"What?! His body--"
"Yes, his body. We might be able to restore it. He might not be the same, though, but the school and my council have done far more than just restore consciousness to limb."
"But he's dead." I blink dumbly.
"Yes. But he's a Morrisette. Sometimes, these things can be remedied. I ask you again, can you read a map?"
I think I'm about to explode. I plunk my head against the cool glass window, my brain feeling like it's about to gush. The taste of blood, the taste of metal and agony, bites my tongue. It all feels too real to be a dream, but I dig my fingernails into my skin anyway. Both the broken nail bed and the skin I've cut throb with very real pain.
It's real. This is real. I squeeze my eyes shut.
"Yeah. Why don't you use your phone?"
He snorts. "Satellite systems don't exactly have access to other dimensions, human?"
"Quit calling me 'human.' My name is Annabeth."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm Fenris." His mouth curls into a smile, cat-like. I swear I can make out the shimmer of sharp teeth.
"What are you, Fenris?" I ask, trying out the name. It tastes fantastical. A stark difference to the plain name 'Annabeth.'
Maybe it's how wild the situation is that causes me to be brave. The information about Jack, about bringing him back to life--it makes me want to believe, without question, everything happening. It makes me want to believe we really are headed to another dimension.
My head hurts as I replay the scene in my head. The men who shot Jack definitely weren't human. I know that. What they did to me, the way they trapped me with their eyes like a spider traps prey in a web, has no explanation. Not one that I can come up with, at least. The only person who can give me information is this beautiful stranger. My captor.
"Isn't it obvious?" I notice the accent on his voice. British, maybe. Or at least, that's what I want to imagine it as. Each word sounds so elegant, as if it were the spoken equivalent of script. "My people are in all sorts of your pitiful human fairytales."
It's not British at all. I can't place it. Its from somewhere very far away.
"I dunno, an elf."
"Bingo."
This drives another snort from me. Both from the word 'bingo' coming from the pretty dialect and the absurdity of it all.
"Uh huh."
"Why do you think we're in so many of your stories?"
"Um, Tolkien. Well, among a million other sources." I'm babbling. I can't help it. This is so crazy; I feel detached from my mouth.
"What are you, an English major?"
I lift a finger, even though he can't see it behind my back. "Bingo."
He laughs. It sounds like a song without lyrics.
"I forget that you humans are clever."
"Are you going to say that Tolkien sat under a tree somewhere, met you, and then wrote about it? That's kinda, I dunno, hard to believe."
"Well, it's more complicated than that. Don't take offense--I'm not trying to say you guys can't be creative." He sighs, his eyes darting from the road back to me. "Have you ever heard about the shared subconscious?"
I blink at him. My head hurts, my wrists ache, and my heart feels like it's been torn to pieces. I don't want to talk anymore, but I have to. "I'm not discussing this with a man who claims to be an elf. What about the guys at the cafe? Were they elves, too?"
His mouth drops open. He shoots me a look that makes my blood turn to ice. He doesn't even respond, just wordlessly lifts his hand off the steering wheel and removes a piece of folded brown paper from his pocket. He places it on my lap, shaking some of the dust off it on to my pants.
I look down. It's crosshatched with gold and red ink, the black shape of mountains stretching across the fold in the center. The paper looks so old that if my hands were free and I touched it, I bet it would crumble. The words are faint and not in my language.
"Absolutely not."
He sighs. "I was hoping the speculation really was true. I was hoping you really were a wolf. I mean, the vampires went through all that trouble. You'd think it'd be over something. Maybe they really are all stupid."
I squirm. My mouth is still bone dry. "Wolf." My laugh comes out more like a squeak. "Yeah, that's a funny thing to call me. You're all messed up. All of you! I'm just an average girl. I go to college. I work at a cafe part time. I live in a house with my sisters--"
"We know enough about you, Annabeth Cross." He doesn't even bother to look at me.
The ice returns to my veins. I shut up.
"The only reason I asked is that if you really were a wolf, you could help us get to the portal. The wolves can be...testy about their borders. Oh. Look. Alpha Ash." He sighs. "Alright, brace for impact."
I'd been looking absently at the side of Fenris's face, staring at the splotchy bruise. I jerk my head toward the windshield just long enough to see the flash of white fur. Long bared teeth. Wild gold eyes. I'd think it was a white cannonball if not for the feral expression.
The impact comes. The windshield shatters, and the car is thrown clear.
- Writer
