Runner: Book II of The Chosen Read online

  Sandy shuffles back into the room, the purple dragon nestled under one arm and her sketchbook in hand.

  There’s no way I can let this kid go back out there on the highway again.

  Since it looks like we’re going to be here awhile, I move the other chair over and settle in next to Sandy as she launches into an enthusiastic discussion about dragons and her art.

  It’s going to be a long afternoon.

  FRIDAY

  CHAPTER 10

  Folding the lease agreement, I stuff it in my bag as I leave the manager’s office. The furnished, two-bedroom apartment is fairly close to Casper College, my next stop. Sandy seemed willing to give it a try—maybe all she needs is someone to help her find her place in this world.

  Anything’s got to be better than being fodder for some asshole’s groping in the cab of his truck.

  It’s tempting to stick around for a while to help her get on her feet. But being only a few short hours from the Springs is adding an edge to the tension I can’t seem to shake. It’s been four nights since I fled the club. As soon as Nicolas realizes there’s no sign of me in the mountains west of the Springs—if he hasn’t already—he’ll start searching elsewhere. He knows me too well, and knows the first place I’ll run will be into the wilderness, as far from him as I can get. One look at a map and he’ll see the I-25 heading north into Montana and Canada, same as I did. And if he comes through Casper while I’m still here, he’ll sense me, like he always has, and there will be no escape.

  And as much as I would love for him to find me, would die for him to find me, that prospect is absolutely terrifying.

  Because this time, I will give myself to him and his world. Completely. One hundred percent. I will forever lose the me that was, forever lose that tiny part of myself that is able to see humans as people, not food. Forever lose my daughter and my final connection to humanity. And that is what terrifies me the most.

  The traffic in the hospital hallways is thankfully light as I pass through with Sandy’s bags of new clothes gripped in both hands. She’d asked me to bring them to share with Cara, and her request had made me cringe at my growing attachment to this resilient, warmhearted little nomad.

  As I enter her room, I notice her roommate and all her belongings are gone, the bed neatly made up for its next occupant.

  Sandy’s curled up beneath her blankets, her back to me. I tread quietly, not wishing to disturb her from her nap. But then I realize her body’s shaking, and a heart-wrenching sob from her breaks the silence in the room.

  “Sandy?” I drop the bags and gently touch her shoulder through the covers. She turns toward me, her green eyes spilling tears across her freckled cheeks.

  “She’s gone! She… she died…” Her words fade into a long wail that rips through me.

  “Your roommate?”

  They never said two words to one another while I was here.

  “No! Cara.” Sandy rips the blankets away and sits up, then buries her face into her hands, sobbing.

  My throat tightens in sorrow for her and I gather her into my arms. Her body convulses as she clings to me and weeps and I make no attempt to calm her—her tears seem to be for more than just losing Cara. They are the tears accumulated through a lifetime of loss and rejection, and my own press heavy against my eyes.

  Her sorrow gradually becomes quieter, less violent. Reduced to shuddering whimpers, she eventually grows still.

  I move one arm from around her and stroke her hair. Sandy finally releases me and I breathe a sigh of relief. In spite of the fact that her blood holds no interest for the beast, the hunter inside me is tense from being embraced by what she considers to be potential prey.

  “I’m sorry about Cara.” I tuck a golden ringlet behind her ear.

  “It’s okay. I didn’t know her very long. But I really wanted her to get well.” She sniffles and reaches through the neck of her gown to unhook the monitor wires from her chest. “I’m gonna go wash my face.”

  Settling into the chair next to the bed, I take out the Casper College catalog and thumb through it. Sandy finishes in the bathroom and shuffles back across the room.

  “Screw these.” She flings the monitor wires off the bed. “The nurses are used to me unhooking them. I don’t know why I still have to wear all this junk.”

  “So has the doctor said anything about when you can be released?”

  “Tomorrow. I was so excited when he told me. As soon as he left, I went to Cara’s room to tell her, and that’s when I found out she’d…” She frowns, then wipes her eyes.

  “Hey. I brought you something.” I hand her the college catalog, hoping to give her something positive to think about. “And I signed the lease today for a two-bedroom apartment just down the street from the college.”

  Sandy stares at the catalog, but doesn’t open it.

  “Why are you doing this? Why are you being so nice to me? What do you want?”

  “I just want you to… to have a chance.”

  “Why? What do you care? I’m nothing to you. Just some dumb girl you picked up hitchhiking.”

  “You…” I take a deep breath. “You remind me of someone.”

  “Who?”

  It takes all the strength I have to choke out my answer. I haven’t talked about her to anyone in this life, ever.

  “My… my daughter.”

  Sandy says nothing. Her questions hang in the air, unasked.

  “She, uh… she was your age the last time we spoke.”

  That’s when I was ripped away from her, never again to be part of her life.

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Over five years ago,” I whisper.

  “Did she die?” Sandy’s tone softens.

  “No.”

  I did.

  She stares down at the catalog for a long moment, then chucks it across the room.

  “So, what—did you just decide one day you didn’t want to talk to her anymore? Didn’t want her anymore? You think you can make up for it with me?” Her accusations, laced with old buried resentments, cut me to the bone.

  Rage flashes through me, and it’s not from the hunter, nor the beast. It’s all mine, and I’ve been lugging it around since the night I woke up as a monster.

  I jerk myself out of the chair, snatch up my bag, and head out the door.

  Stupid me, getting involved with this girl. There’s just too much pain here in both of us.

  “So you’re running away? Is that what you always do? Run?” Sandy screams from her room.

  She’s right, says the little voice from the black box, the black box holding the tiny piece of me that’s still human.

  I stop in the middle of the hall and clamp my eyes shut.

  Damn you. I ran because of you. If it wasn’t for your weak human sniveling, I’d be with Nicolas right now, alive and whole, a true Chosen, instead of this dead and broken half thing.

  I despise you.

  But I am part of you, the part that still has a daughter. Remember her. The lid to the box opens a crack farther.

  Remember her? For what reason? I can never speak to her, touch her, hold my granddaughter. What’s the point? I’m better off with my own kind. I’m tired of this shadowy half life, skulking around the edges of society, watching but never belonging.

  “Sunny! I’m sorry! Don’t leave. Please come back.”

  The fury still boiling through me, I spin around and head into her room. I shove the door shut and leap to the side of her bed before she even realizes I’m back.

  Glaring down at her through a crimson haze, I growl, “You want to know why I haven’t spoken to my daughter? You want to know why I ran? Why I still run?”

  She pales, but shows no other reaction to the blazing red eyes, the hands arched like claws, low at my sides and ready to strike, the bared teeth of an accomplished killer.

  “What am I supposed to say to her? ‘Hi, hon, Mommy the Monster is home? Can I have a hug? Can I hold your baby?’” I snarl.
/>   Sandy swallows and says nothing.

  “Yeah, so… now you know. I am definitely not normal. And the one who is looking for me? He is much, much worse.”

  She continues to watch me, her green irises framed in red from her tears.

  Green eyes turning red. They remind me too much of Nicolas.

  Oh God.

  The grief for what I’ve lost wells upward, choking me. I feel myself being sucked into a bottomless pit of longing, fear, love, hate, regret… and I am drowning in it.

  My family. My love. My life.

  All gone, washed away in a cruel, violent sea of red.

  The bloodtears erupt from my blood-colored eyes. Horrified by what I’ve just done, I shield my face and turn away, shaking, struggling to regain control. Sandy’s gasp tells me I’m too late, that she saw what kind of bleeder I am.

  But the tears won’t stop, and I no longer care.

  I can never go back to my daughter, to the life we had, the life we shared. And now I’ve thrown away my only chance to share what little life is left to me with someone who understands my needs, someone who loves me as I love him, and without whom I don’t think I can survive.

  I can’t take this anymore. I have to go back to Nicolas. I will die of loneliness if I don’t.

  Sandy’s arms wrap around mine from behind as she presses against me, murmuring quiet reassurances. There is something serene about her presence, and the tension running through my veins begins to drain out. I steady myself and use the hunter to find the stillness within me, to help kill these human emotions that make me so vulnerable, so exposed. The ache in my eyes recedes and I take a breath as the tears stop flowing and my vision begins to clear.

  The hunter protests against this human wrapped around us, and as my awareness returns I shrug Sandy’s arms aside and head to the bathroom, my face and hands sticky with blood.

  The creature in the mirror sickens me. I look like something out of a Hollywood slasher movie. And I really liked this silk blouse. Should’ve known better than to buy something in pale blue, or any other light color.

  I strip it off and stuff it into the trash, then wash up. Wrapping a towel around me, I walk out and across the room to the shopping bags I’d left on the floor.

  “Mind if I borrow one of those tops I bought you?”

  “No, go right ahead.”

  As I’m rummaging around in the bags, I hear her sudden intake of air.

  “Oh my God, what happened to your back? Did he do that to you?”

  I can only imagine her face as she looks at the spider’s web of thin silvery scars running down the length of my back.

  “Who?”

  “You know, him. The one you’re running from.” There’s a note of anger in her voice.

  “Nicolas? No, he didn’t do that. A bear did.”

  The bear whose attack a few months ago nearly killed me, changing my life yet again.

  “A bear? I mean, you look like you were whipped with a, well, a whip.”

  I snort. That wouldn’t even faze me. Tick me off pretty bad, though.

  “It was a bear. Let’s just say I bit off a little more than I could chew.”

  “Is that where the scars on your arm and face came from?”

  “Yep. Same bear. He’s dead now.” A black T-shirt with skull and rose designs on it spills from the shopping bag. Perfect.

  “You killed him?”

  “Yes I did.” I yank the shirt down over my head and shrug into it, then turn around.

  “You really are badass.” Sandy’s staring at me, admiration lighting up her face.

  “Knock it off. There’s nothing badass about killing.”

  Sandy looks down and nods, then peers at the floor. She’s standing next to several fat drops of my blood.

  Before I can react, she grabs a tissue from the bedside tray, then eases into a crouch and wipes up the mess.

  “Thanks.” I glance around for any more stray spots as I reach out for the tissue and head to the bathroom.

  “Sure. I, uh, do have a little experience with cleaning up blood.”

  Unable to help myself, I let loose a short laugh.

  “Yeah, I guess you would. Seems like you and I do have a few things in common.”

  Cleaning up blood is a nightly regimen for me. It’s usually not my own, though.

  I flush the tissue down the toilet, then grab the garbage bag containing my ruined blouse and head back into the room. I set it by my purse in the corner to add to the collection of blood-stained clothing in my trunk.

  All of my instincts urge me to destroy anything with my blood on it, and I have from day one—usually by burning. It goes along with that whole fear-of-discovery thing that constantly shadows me.

  Sandy watches me with intense fascination etched all over her face.

  “Well, what now? Do you still want the apartment?” I ask.

  “Are you going to be staying there?” she replies, sounding hopeful.

  “Only for a few days. But I can stay at the hotel if you’d rather.”

  “No, no. You can stay at the apartment. I mean, it’s your apartment.”

  “No, actually it’s yours. I rented it for you. I’ve become a little… fond of you, and you’ve had some tough breaks. So I thought I would help you get a fresh start. Or at least someplace safe ’til you sort out what you want to do.”

  Tears fill her eyes and she stands there hugging herself.

  Shit. We can’t keep doing this crying stuff. We both need to get a grip.

  I walk over and gently take hold of her shoulders.

  “Sandy. Stop. Maybe this is something that was meant to be. Why else was I the one to pick you up from the middle of the highway?” I shake my head. “I haven’t figured it out. Maybe it was to help each other. So just accept it and let’s move on. We both have a lot to do, and frankly I can’t handle any more meltdowns, either yours or mine. Enough’s enough. Okay?”

  She nods and I release her as she reaches up to wipe away her tears.

  A knock sounds at the door and I glance at the clock. Must be dinnertime, which is confirmed when Sandy opens the door and I get a whiff of whatever stuff they’ve cooked up for her. Blech.

  She looks at me and I nod for her to let the nurse in. I walk up along the far side of Sandy’s bed and stare out the window at the fading light. It’s about dinnertime for me, too.

  I can feel the nurse glancing at me uneasily while she’s getting Sandy situated with her meal. She quickly leaves and I turn around to see Sandy staring at me.

  “What?”

  “You sure had her spooked. What’s been going on with you and the nurses?” she asks, in between bites of bread.

  “I, uh… I’m just not comfortable with people, and sometimes they pick up on that.”

  “Oh. So they haven’t seen you freak out, or your eyes turn red or anything, right?” She pokes her fork at the spinach on her plate and wrinkles her nose in disgust.

  I give her a wry smile.

  “Oh, great. Maybe that’s why the doctor suddenly decided I could leave. Which makes me happy, cuz the food here really sucks.”

  It smells bad, too. I’ve got to get out of here. I need to hunt, badly. My emotional crack-up consumed all my reserves and I’m dreading trying to get from here to the car.

  If the nurses were spooked before, they really will be now if any of them run into me in the hallway tonight. It would be kind of nice to have Sandy escort me outside.

  I laugh quietly. That’s hilarious. She’s like a reverse bodyguard. She protects people from me, instead of the other way around.

  How crazy is that?

  “Look, I need to go. Call me later tonight if you get bored. I’ll be up.”

  “Okay. I’ll look at the college catalog. Maybe you can help me pick out some classes?”

  “Sure. We’ll see what we can figure out.”

  I grab my bag and head for the door.

  “See ya later,” Sandy calls as I wave.

>   With a tight hold on the beast, I enter the gauntlet of the hospital hallways and hope for the best.

  CHAPTER 11

  I pull the car over and park in a turnout along the dirt road. After managing to get through the hospital and twice through the hotel lobby without killing anyone, this might be a lucky night for me to try pronghorn antelope. Though smaller than mule deer, their top speed of nearly fifty-five miles per hour—the second fastest land animal in the world—will offer a fresh challenge to the hunter whose eagerness for the chase is vibrating through every cell in my body.

  Her impatience is rivaled by both the beast’s need to tear something apart and the hunger burning deep within, sparked by my earlier emotional breakdown.

  My appalling weakness this afternoon disgusts me. Losing control like that, becoming incoherent, brings a high risk of exposure that could be fatal, or worse.

  Lab rat. I shudder at the thought.

  Getting out, I stretch, then start walking along the road, casting for the musky antelope scent. The road is bordered by a sparse forest on my left, but to my right is rolling grassy plains.

  Pronghorn country.

  I cut up into the hills at a steady jog. There’s no wind tonight, unusual for this area, so I’ll need to be practically on top of them before I can catch their scent.

  It feels so good to be out here, away from the pressures of constantly trying to maintain control. Here, in the wild, sleeping in trees doesn’t sound so bad. In fact, after today, it sounds pretty damn good. The hunter, tense with anticipation, nearly purrs in agreement.

  A stray breeze carries a hint of my prey and I veer off to follow it. Topping a rise, I slowly sink to a crouch as I spot the herd grazing along a draw below me. They’re about six hundred feet or so away, and several, sensing movement, raise their heads and look in my direction.

  The area is dotted with sagebrush and I pause behind a clump before slipping along the ground to the next one. I continue to work my way down the side of the hill, bush to bush, until I’m about sixty feet from the edge of the herd. They’re nervous and keep looking up the hillside, but seem to be unable to spot me.