Page 33 of Wolf of Ashes
It’s probably just as well because I’m nearly naked and surrounded by four savage panthers, who are finally rising back to their feet.
The keeper gives me a devilish grin. “Granted, the population isn’t the highest, but there are burgers.”
He gestures to the lone shopfront that’s lit up. It seems to be the source of the oily food smells I’ve been inhaling. The glass door is slightly ajar and my head is now swimming with the scent of food, or more accurately, the scent ofmeat.
“I smell meat,” I say, salivating as I speak. “Burgers are meat. Soyes, burgers please.”
Before I can take a step toward the building, the keeper’s hand wraps around my arm.
“Probably best to leave this interaction to me,” he says. “You should keep the panthers out of sight.” He casts around and points to the vehicle that’s parked farthest back in the parking lot, although it will still be visible from the building. “Stay with that truck. Make sure the panthers hide behind it.”
As he speaks, he rolls his shoulders as if he’s shaking himself off and, in that moment, his visage changes again.
His skin becomes white but tanned, his hair becomes blond and windswept, and sunglasses appear on his face, except that they sit on his nose without frames in sight. I’m not sure why he’d want sunglasses in the middle of the night until I catch a glimpse of his very black eyes behind them. I guess he wants to conceal whatever power he intends to use next. His clothing transitions into low-slung jeans and a loose tank top that reveals the muscles across his biceps and forearms.
“What about my clothing?” I ask before he can turn away.
He tilts his head and considers me over the top of the dark glasses. “Do you want warmer clothes?”
I rethink my request. The air is muggy and warm. Clothing would only cling to me. My thought was more for blending in, but like the keeper said, there’s nobody around. “Actually, I’m comfortable.”
“Then you’re perfect as you are.”
He saunters away, his hair continuing to grow as he walks until its tangled strands meet his shoulders.
When he disappears into the building, I retreat to the truck. It’s dark blue and has a tray on the back, inside of which rests a narrow board. The board is mostly white but with a wavy pattern on it and it’s shaped sort of like a rectangle except that each end is tapered.
I don’t know what it is, but when I tap its surface, I ascertain that it’s solid. Confident that the back of the truck is safe for the panthers, I urge them up into it, where the sides will conceal them. They spring into it and seem happy enough to settle there.
Returning to the front of the vehicle, I fold my arms across my chest and lean against the hood while I wait for the keeper to return. I make out his shape inside the shop where he appears to be speaking to one of the humans, who is standing behind the counter.
Studying my surroundings, I catalog the things I recognize and the things I don’t.
Most of it, I’m fine with. Parking lot, vehicles, shops with old signs in the windows. Trees at the open end of the parking lot and the vague outline of houses behind them.
But there are certainly things in the outside world I don’t yet know about. Like the object in the back of this truck.What the fuck could it be? Some sort of portable table, maybe?
The problem is it’s the small mistakes that could get me killed.
Once I reach my enemy, I’ll have to pretend I know everything about all things, even if I don’t.
A few minutes later, the keeper emerges from the shop with packages in hand.
I lean forward in anticipation when he reaches me, ready to rip open the bags and reveal the food inside, but he places them out of my reach on the far side of the truck’s hood, wraps his hands around my waist, and hoists me up onto it—even as I’m grasping for the food.
“We can eat here,” he says, joining me on the makeshift seat.
Finally, he passes me one of the bags.
I unwrap it quickly and assess its contents: a bread roll with meat inside. Looks like cheese and lettuce next to the meat.
Quickly unraveling Mom’s shirt from around my left hand, I push the material beneath my bra strap to keep it safe.
The first bite of food makes me groan. “Fuck me. That’s good.”
He grins at me, tucks his newly blond hair behind his ear, and takes a bite of his own burger.
“What are these?” I ask, poking at the other package inside the bag, which contains long sticks that smell like oil and goodness.
