Catalyst

Chapter Nine

The traveling wasn't as horrible this time around. They took a cab back to Taunton Station and only had to wait twenty-five minutes for the next available train that would stop in Annapolis. The train ride wasn't long but from there they had to wait over an hour for a bus to Denton.

They spent the wait wandering around the downtown area being tourists. Phoebe kept thinking that they were going to be attacked, and so she found herself scanning her surroundings every minute or so, until James noticed and took her hand.

"We're fine. I don't feel like anything is wrong. Do you?" he asked.

She shook her head no, squeezing his hand, but the truth was she hadn't felt any premonition of good or bad since she'd woken up that morning covered in blood. She didn't want to tell him; he had enough to worry about, but she missed the advantage of knowing what kind of situation she was heading into. She almost put a hand to her sternum, wanting to rub some kind of warmth into her skin; kick-start it maybe, but she controlled the urge.

Phoebe got a quick glimpse of the capitol building on their way back to the bus depot and it was so impressive with its large dome and tall statues that she wanted desperately to take a picture of it. She could have snapped one with the camera on her phone, but she didn't, just to be safe. She didn't know what would happen if somehow the hunters got her phone, or hacked into it. If they accessed her pictures they'd know exactly where she'd been. It sounded silly, but she wasn't taking any chances. She was just grateful she got to keep it with her.

Although she also knew that in a day or so she would probably need to call her parents, and she wasn't looking forward to that. She had never left to go on a trip, camping or otherwise, without asking them first, or at least giving them a little notice. The conversation was bound to be unpleasant.

The bus out of Annapolis was only an hour's ride, and James said Denton was the last stop, so Phoebe tried to spend the trip listening to her headphones and relaxing, but she couldn't get her mind to slow down. Her brain kept circling back to the night before. The pain, the tiger, the wolf, the blood, Miranda's black-hole face, and James with tears in his eyes. She wanted to forget parts of it; block them out and disregard them as if they were childhood nightmares, but she knew she would remember everything. All of it would stay with her, stamped onto her skin like inky freckles.

James pulled one ear bud away from her face, startling her. "Bruce isn't a fairy by the way."

"Oh, well that's good." She put her headphones away, surprised that he wanted to talk. He'd been quiet since they had left his aunt's house and she wondered if he was reliving last night just as she was. Now that they were away from the scene, the whole thing felt surreal, like she might have dreamt it. "So, what is he then?"

"Bruce is like the...well, he's sort of a scribe. An information keeper. There's one for every clan—was one for every clan," he corrected himself. "They keep records of our families, our battles. Matings and deaths, that kind of thing."

"So he's like you?"

"No, he's not a dragon. He was completely human when he was chosen."

She raised one eyebrow. "Was?"

"Caught that, huh?" He rubbed a hand through his hair and Phoebe was instantly frustrated with herself at how she obsessed over the movement, noticing the soft strands between his fingers, especially now that she the pleasure of knowing their texture in her own hands when they had been on the floor, his mouth fused with hers. She wished that he would kiss her again, so that she could be sure it was something other than relief at her survival that led him to do it. But she had the feeling the right situation for that would be a long time coming.