Page 49 of Fight for Us

I could point out that it was quite obvious this would be the case, but I keep my mouth shut. She has a lot going on in her mind and if this is something she wants to explore, then who am I to say otherwise.

My ears are straining. There’s a creak behind me, and I turn at lightning speed, my gums tingling with the threat of my fangs dropping down. There is no one there. A cart sits at the end of the aisle, overloaded with books, but no one is beside it.

Tara reads aloud, more to herself than to me. ‘This one just says, “Authorities still investigating cause”.’ She sighs. ‘That was from twelve years ago. Doesn’t fit though, it’s only from a town or so over.’

I drift closer, footsteps soundless on the thin, gritty carpet. Glancing toward the far corner, I wait a moment, wondering if there was a flicker in the shadow there or if it was my mind playing tricks on me.

‘You okay?’ Tara asks without looking up.

‘Fine,’ I say, sounding tenser than I had hoped.

She keeps scanning the pages. Her fingers are smudged with dust, and there’s a crease between her brows that deepens every time she turns a page and finds another dead end.

This town means nothing. There’s no connection. The fire she remembers isn’t here. The dates are wrong. I’m frustrated that we don’t have a real plan or goal here. It feels like we are on a wild goose chase.

Something clicks behind the desk. A soft thunk, like a printer being signalled to print. Or a door unlocking.

‘Are we done here?’ I ask, my voice coming out a little harsher than I intended, and she finally drags her eyes from the files, landing them heavily on me with a concerned look on her face.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I don’t feel good about this place,’ I mutter, skimming my hands over the counter where a worker most likely should be, but it seems the desk is completely unattended. ‘I have a bad feeling. I want to keep moving.’

Realising how serious I am, she nods and pushes to her feet. It feels as though the air has dropped in temperature yet again around us, and that is never a good sign. This town has the same eerie feel to it as Red Thorne does. Like there might be magic settled in the earth, ready to spill out its darkness.

Outside, the sky has dipped into that dark purple shade between dusk and nightfall. Streetlights flicker, casting long gold streaks over the cracked pavement. The town still feels empty. Every window is dark as we pass, and I draw Tara closer to me. I slip my bag off my shoulder and silently pass her the tote that contains the crossbrow and arrows, so they are in reach for her if needed. There is no question from her as she slides the crossbow over a shoulder and pulls her hair back from her face into a high ponytail.

We walk in silence, boots clicking against the footpath. My senses feel raw and heightened. Every movement in the shadows looks like a person. Every glance at a window has me convinced that there is something right behind me. I don’t know if it’s my mind or if there is something wrong with this town.

‘What the?’ I ask as we approach the car. The driver’s side window is cracked and there’s glass scattered across the pavement.

Tara is quiet beside me as she assesses the damage. I crouch, eyes scanning the seat, the floor. It all looks unscathed, but the glovebox is open. Everything inside it, not that half of it was ours, has been tossed. The loose change in the cup holders is gone. If I hadn’t taken my bag with me, I’m sure it would be gone too. Everything we have is replaceable, but it would have been a pain to have to restock our arrows, knives, and whatnot.

I straighten slowly, glancing at the rear-view mirror. It’s tilted at a strange angle, pointing not at the back window, but at the back seat. There’s a single smudge on the glass. A long, dark streak, like someone pressed a wet finger against it and dragged. Blood? I step closer, but can’t detect a human scent.

Tara doesn’t see it, and I don’t tell her. Instead, I close the door gently and look down the empty street.

‘Is it just a general thief, or is it someone following us?’ I ask aloud, combing my fingers through my hair.

Tara sighs noisily. ‘I have no idea.’

The glass crunches under my shoe as I step closer to the car and lean inside, sticking the key into the ignition and turning it. The car doesn’t start. The lights don’t even turn on.

She throws her hands up in exasperation. ‘Guess we have to steal a car. Again.’

‘Mm,’ I murmur in agreement, eyeing the empty street. All cars are clearly locked away, probably for this very reason.

Tara zips up her coat to her chin and reshuffles the crossbow more comfortably on her shoulder. We cut across the shoulder and slip between the roadside trees, not venturing too deep – just enough to stick to the shadows, but close enough to the road that I will be able to hear a car coming.

The woods here are thin but dark. We stay parallel to the road. Tara keeps glancing back over her shoulder, and I don’t blame her, feeling myself do the same. The leaves behind us rustle, almost unevenly, as if someone is walking behind us, but each time I look back, there is nothing there. With my enhanced eyesight and hearing, it would be nearly impossible for someone to be tracking us this closely, but I can’t deny that’s what it sounds like. I’m starting to think that whatever they injected me with is causing hallucinations.

There is hardly a breeze. Just the sound of Tara’s breath, fast and shallow, and the rhythm of her heart beating.

‘Keep walking,’ I murmur.

She nods. Eyes wide, pulse flickering beneath the skin of her throat invitingly, as if it’s asking me to slit open her skin and let her blood spill. We keep moving, eyes peeled for any car, any house, anything we can use. The town’s outskirts have morphed into rural driveways, but there are no cars left out. I hear it again. Footsteps in the leaves and this time, there is no second-guessing myself.

Tara stops, her breath catching. ‘Did you hear that?’