Curse of Ferreus

11 - Rude Awakening

With Rowan's shadowy figure still leaning casually against a tree trunk in the woods across the street, I know I can't stay here.

I slam the car door shut behind me and glare at him through the windshield, hoping he'll get the message and back off.

No such luck. He stays there; arms crossed, posture relaxed, idly surveying. Mocking me.

Fine. Fine. I don't want to stay here anyway.

I start the engine and drive off, leaving him in the rear-view mirror. It seems Beau must have cleared the fight with the police, because there's no one around the alley. Money is still an issue and the motel isn't safe now Laura knows about it— so it looks like I'll be bunking in the car once more.

So I drive and I drive, gazing out at the quiet, dark streets as I search for a place to park up. The car sputters along, groaning and whining and begging for attention. Something's wrong with it, but I'm about as knowledgeable with cars as I am working with werewolves— which is, to say, not very knowledgeable at all. My investigation so far has been a complete disaster. Instead of finding answers, I've gotten into a fight with werewolves, aligned myself with their rivals, and given myself even more unanswered questions to rifle through.

I know nothing about their rules— except that Rowan seems like the sort to take in strays even despite the war on his doorstep. Does that make him vulnerable or smart? Vulnerable. Definitely vulnerable.

In terms of territory, if Rowan's pack lays claim on the entire valley and the Duskland pack is lurking on their borders and creeping closer, I'm left clueless when it comes to which parts of the town are under the control of which werewolf pack.

I should've gotten more from Rowan. I should have used his resources and tugged as much information out of him and his pack as I could, instead of getting defensive and leaving the second I had the chance.

To my credit, the heart of a werewolf den isn't the best place for reasonable ideas. At least now, with a clear head, I can plan things properly without the risk of more fights.

I'm alone out here, and I know I can't take two packs on at once. Working alongside Rowan goes against everything I've been taught, but if he's offering me help in exchange for taking out one of the targets, I'd be foolish to turn my back on him. Even though I've got no reason to trust him or his motives whatsoever.

The knife at my ankle has never felt so comforting.

I leave the town behind, looking for a quiet place away from territory wars. The streets aren't safe if werewolves are holed up in bookstores. Yawning trees stretch over the road, grasping for one another. Rain patters insistently on the roof, a roaring undertone to my racing thoughts. Nausea rolls in my gut, but I shove aside all ideas of food for the moment. I've got too much to deal with already.

I end up driving quite far, where the road becomes a dirt track that leads up and up, turning back on itself as it climbs up the sloping hill of the valley. Emerging in a clearing amongst the trees that overlooks the town and its mountainous borders, I decide this is far enough.

Sleeping in a car is, to all intents and purposes, not that bad. I park up, set the seat back as far as it will go, and settle down for the long haul. I don't want to be caught vulnerable in the backseat. It beats the forest floor, by all accounts. Especially with the downpour sending streams down the windshield and blurring the outside world.

The view isn't bad either, I muse, gazing out at the twinkling lights of Crescent Valley nestled between clusters of grey mountains and a sea of shadowed woodland, shining beneath a rain-choked sky. It's peaceful, as long as I can forget about the wolves for a while.