Secret Intelligence

Chapter One

Chapter One

The car ride was ...tolerable. The music was on, but only loud enough that you could still make conversation, and quiet enough that there was no awkwardness. My dad was peering through the thick sheet of rain that was hitting the ground like bowling balls. The large drops bouncing as high as one foot from the front hood.

Since my dad didn't have a stable job we would be living in a motel for the time being. He was hoping that moving to a previously deserted town, there would be a few job openings. I was planning on hunting for a part time job so we wouldn't be living off take-aways and junk food. But balancing work, werewolves and school is going to be exhausting but I wasn't prepared to give up any of them.

The car swung into the car park of the motel, or as the light up sign read; mote. While my dad scoffed at the dangling 'L' that threatened to drop at any moment, I found it put a creative touch on the place. Some character, let’s say.

Together we exited the cab, pulling our jackets over to cover our heads to shield us from the drastic rain. I pulled my washed out yellow duffel bag from the floor of the passenger seat and slam the door shut. I heave the bag strap over my shoulder and helped my dad remove the sheet covering the back of the truck. Together we grabbed the suitcases and few boxes and rushed into the dry building. Most of our belongings from the apartment were put into storage. I really didn't like the fact all our stuff was locked away in a dusty, cold cell that could probably be broken easily compared to the thick bolted cells that would cost a pretty penny. But I was reassured by the fact one small thought, who would want to steal our cheap furniture that was older than myself?

Trudging into the small make-do reception of the motel, I immediately began to list the many flaws and let’s say the cracked molding that crept up on the khaki green walls was the least of my problems. To the left of me was the wooden rectangular desk that I assumed was the check-in desk was worn and close to collapsing. The faded furniture to my right was decorated in knife mars and cigarette burns, the questionable pattern on the curtains pulled the place together. You know the saying; don’t judge a book by its cover? Well whoever created that saying didn't have this place in mind.

My dad made way over to the desk and placed the box he was holding, on the counter. I followed suit but held on tightly to what was left of our belongings. We waited for a few seconds in what would have been silence if it wasn't for the howling wind and battering of rain on the windows. Before a minute could pass by my dad reached over and knocked sharply on the desk breaking the worker from his daydream. His head shot up and he sent us an apologetic look. For him ignoring us or the fact that we were staying here, I was unsure.  The man - who I estimated was in his late 30's- was called Will. I could tell this by the faded yellow nametag pinned onto his hunter green uniform.

                "Hello there, welcome. How may I help you?"

Will had short-cut brown hair and a faint shadow of stubble dominating his chin, there were deep purple circles under his eyes, he obviously hadn't had much sleep. I smiled politely before my dad began to talk.

                "We have a room booked, under Jones." Will smiled sweetly before tapping on the keyboard of the computer and scanning the screen. After a moment his eyes caught our name and he looked over information.

                "Yes, room 16a, one-bedroom, one-bathroom and one pull out couch." His hands reached for the keys on the rack behind him, he lifted the ones marked '16a' and handed them over to my dad, who the handed them to me. I quickly and expertly removed one set of keys from the set and slid it into my pocket; I would attach it to my key-ring later.