Waiting For August

Part 47 ~ Body of evidence

It was Tuesday evening, sometime after work. I had fallen asleep on the sofa, only to be jolted awake by a loud hammering on my door. At least I think I had fallen asleep. Since I'd last seen Caleb on Saturday, my sleep schedule had returned to its usual pattern of little to none. It left my brain frazzled and at times unable to tell the difference between waking and sleep.

I spent the time betwixt—when I should have been sleeping but had given up trying—researching. Zeke Fraser had provided me with a clue of sorts. Something that as yet I couldn't make heads or tails of. It turned out that the blade which he'd been assaulted with was not your typical hunting knife, nor would it be found missing from any culinary set. In some ways it made perfect sense that if one was out hunting supernatural beings that the equipment used would be equally matched.

Zeke had described the weapon as being seven inches in length, white, perhaps carved from bone and slightly curved like a talon or fang. Inscribed along its length were five glyphs or runes, which Zeke had managed to reproduce; symbols of which I'd had no luck in translating.

From that point, Zeke's account got even stranger. Not only did he profess that the runes along the blade had glowed like molten iron, but that it was alive as well. It had hummed with life when he had grasped hold of it as he struggled against his assailant. Not only was it something that he said he could feel in his bones, but that the blade had whispered to him as well. Words that were not words had appeared in his brain, like foreign thoughts, ideas that belonged to someone or something else.

I found the lack of progress frustrating. Henry had been sure that if he dangled me out in the open that the slayer would come to me like flies to honey. After all, I was the one who had gotten away. I was the loose string. He had murdered my father, and then my mother and sister. If I had been home, no doubt I would have been killed too.

We had put my face and name in the newspaper, a full week before the evening of the Gala. I walked every evening between work and the courthouse so that I was easy pickings. It was me who he was supposed to target. Not Zeke, but me. I was the one who didn't have a family or a pack to put at risk, but it was Zeke who had been attacked. Other than painting a literal target on my back, I was unsure of what more to do to get this assailant to focus on me.

So much was riding on finding this Alpha slayer. Not only was my independence from Henry at stake, but my new life with Caleb. I couldn't take that next step with him until we'd dealt with this threat, and I was running out of excuses for him.

"Aren't you tired of living out of a suitcase?" Caleb had asked me while keeping his voice carefully neutral.

I took a breath. Exhaled, and glanced at him briefly before turning my eyes back to the road. I was driving him home Saturday after refusing to check out of the hotel and I needed to tread cautiously.

I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, you could say that."

"Then is it me?"

"What? No! Of course not." Fuck. I didn't want him to think that!

We were pulling into his driveway. I drove up until I was alongside the house, parking just behind his pickup truck.

"Then help me to understand. Why the apartment, August, when I'm living alone at the farm?" He reached out and set his hand on my knee, squeezing it gently. "Even if you're not ready to share a room, there's still plenty of space."

"What? Caleb, if I move into your home, of course I'll wanna share your bed." I shook my head. "It isn't about that."

I put my hand on his. Held it in my own, interlocking our fingers as I turned in my seat to face him. "I still think we're moving a bit fast." I gave his hand a squeeze. The last time I had mentioned that he had gotten upset. "I promise that I'm not going anywhere. So, why can't we take our time and maybe date a bit before taking the leap of moving in with one another."