Page 33

W hen we pull into the parking lot of the motel, the sky is turning ashy gray, mottled with a pale salmon pink that reminds me of skin. When a beautiful sunset turns my stomach, my mood must be dark .

Luke gets out of the passenger seat and pulls the seat up so I can get out. As I sit forward, unlatching my seatbelt, he offers me a hand out. I hesitate, and he shrugs one big shoulder .

I slip my hand into his. His fingers close around mine, and I feel his calloused knuckles under my fingertips as he helps me out from behind the seat. I don’t need his help, but it’s still sweet .

I’m stepping onto the rain-streaked pavement when I catch movement in the shadows. It’s a big bruiser- looking guy .

“Luke,” I say, urgency in my voice. Is this the theft ring that Professor Boyd told me about, come to claim their boys? Maybe being a hunter and being a thief is one and the same .

Luke pushes the front seat back into place. “Get in,” he tells me urgently, shoving my shoulder into the car before I can argue. “Lock the doors and get out of here .”

Mave, driver’s side door still opens, says, “How’s it going, fellas?” He tosses the car keys into the car on the driver’s seat. He quietly shuts the car door and leans against it, his posture casual. From here in the passenger seat, I can see the taper of Mave’s back exposed; with his jacket pulled up like this, I can see the knife on his belt .

Luke, on my right, is turning to face some other threat, the car door closed between us .

I don’t want to lock them out of the car. I’m sure as hell not going to leave them .

Mave thumps the top of the car. “Go,” he tells me again firmly. I press the lock down, then creep across the driver’s seat to press the other lock down, my heart thudding in my chest. Looking out, I recognize the guy who stands by the front tire: it’s Rogers from the frat. There’s another guy, moving around in front of Mave .

My fingers are shaking as I thumb through Mave’s simple key ring: one house key, one post office key, one car key. I insert the silver car key into the ignition. I haven’t driven a car much since I’ve been on campus, but I’ve also never driven a stick shift. I’ve never seen a reason .

Maybe that was short- sighted .

“Let’s not make this into a bigger thing than it has to be,” Luke says. “I thought I wanted to be a brother, you thought I’d be an awesome brother — ”

“You are a wonderful and loyal friend,” Mave says .

“See?” Luke says. “I make a good friend. You have confirmation. I also make a fucking terrible enemy, so I suggest you get back in that ugly pick-up truck of yours and drive off .”

“You’re calling my truck ugly ?”

“Yes. Sorry, I prefer something a bit sportier and a bit less confederate, as well.” Luke says. “ Now go .”

“There’s five of us. There’s two of you .”

“The girl in the car throws a mean left slap,” Luke says. “She counts for at least half. And I’m betting each of you counts for like, two-thirds of a real man. So the math is a lot more complicated than you would think at first glance .”

Rogers peers through the windshield. When our gazes meet, his eyes narrow cruelly .

I’m scared, but not of him. I’m worried I’m going to make a mistake, and Mave and Luke will get hurt .

“You’ve got the girl with you,” Rogers says. “Our fake sorority girl .”

Luke tells him, “She’s just too darned cute for your sister frat .”

Mave asks Luke quietly, “Do you ever think about not escalating things ?”

“Not really,” Luke says .

“Bad news,” Rogers says. “No girl’s going to look twice at your busted face after this .”

“Oh, man,” Luke says. “The thing is — ”

“Can you be quiet?” Mave demands. His voice is distant since he’s facing away from me, toward the threats. “Honestly, I’d rather jump right to the fighting than hear you go on and on .”

“Are you serious?” Luke asks. “This is the fun part. After this, no matter how it all goes, I always get punched in the face, and I hate being punched in the face …”

“But you love to talk .”

“This is the good part. Trash talk is what makes sports fun .”

“This isn’t a sport .”

“Depends on how you define it .”

“What the fuck are you two going on about?” Rogers asks, and as he’s taking a step forward in exasperation, Luke suddenly rushes him .

The world around the car is suddenly a blur of motion. Someone gets bashed into the car, but I’m not sure who it is. I hesitate, climbing onto the console between the seats because I want to be able to lunge in either direction and unlock the car if Luke or Mave need to escape the fray .

It seems, though, that Rogers and Co. are much more likely to need a sanctuary from the violence .

Mave fights like something not human; it’s a dance, a violent, bloody, and graceful dance. Luke never pulls the knife from his sheath, which surprises me. His movements aren’t flashy. From here, it looks like he barely touches Rogers. His movements seem almost defensive after that initial feint forward, but he rolls Rogers over his back like it’s nothing and then leaves him on the pavement as he moves on to the next guy coming out of the shadows .

Long seconds tick by, and I think we’re going to be out of the woods when someone thuds against the car door. I jump, stifling a scream .

Rogers pulls himself up my car door, pushing his big ugly-as-sin face against the window, yanking on the door handle. I can almost hear him saying, little pig, let me in .

He bends down and comes up with a rock in his hand. This time I fall back, covering my face with my arms as he slams the rock into the window. Nothing happens, and I dare to open my eyes, pulling my arms apart, to see a white spider web covering my windshield .

He slams the rock into the window again, and window disintegrates into a fine spray of glass shards .

Luke slams into him. I see the other guy behind him, the one he’s just left, peel himself off the asphalt. Luke’s left himself wide open; he’s intent on Rogers. He’s got a fist gripping the collar of Roger’s jacket, the other fist cocked back to fly. Luke sure seems to relish hurting someone who was about to hurt me .

The other guy takes a step forward, hesitant, and then another, quicker, bending to scoop something off the ground. A weapon? Oh no, I don’t fucking think so .

I scramble across the broken glass on the seat to unlock the door. This guy creeping up behind Luke doesn’t even see me .

As he reaches the door, pulling back his arm with a metal Mag-lite, I throw the door open, with all my body weight behind it. I stumble out onto the pavement, the door rebounding against me. I fall to one knee on the concrete, shoving the door against this guy’s body weight as he thuds over the top of the door .

Luke half-turns back. “Get her out of here,” he yells at Mave, slamming Rogers down to the ground. Luke almost trips in his urgency to get between me and this new clown on the door. Luke grabs him, throwing him back down to the sidewalk .

Mave is suddenly at my side, moving faster than any human should be able to move. He looks at the body of Rogers, prostrate on the ground, and then up, at the frat boys fleeing. He curses, the first time I’ve heard Mave use profanity, and bends to check Rogers’ pulse .

He looks up at me in relief. “He’s breathing .”

The other guy is running off too, at a quick limp, as Luke turns back to us. “Good,” Luke says, because I want to know what he wanted with Ash. That was not necessary .”

“I wasn’t going to take it personally,” I say. “They seemed a bit peeved with all of us .”

“Well, I take it personally,” Luke says. “There was no reason to go after you. Maybe there’s something else going on with them, maybe they know something about the poltergeist .”

“Then let’s chat with him,” Mave says. “But I think we should get out of here, just in case someone called the police .”

Luke glances around the near-empty parking lot; debris blows across the lot in the breeze. “I doubt that very much .”

“Better safe than sorry,” Mave says .

I take a deep breath. A long, shaky deep breath. And then another. My breathing seems awfully loud .

“Are you alright?” Mave asks .

“Of course she’s fine.” Luke reaches out and ruffles my hair, as if I were a kid. “Look at that. She was worth at least half. I was right about the math being a surprise .”

“It was definitely a surprise,” Mave says, “To all of us. I thought we were in trouble .”

“Ehh, we’re always in trouble,” Luke says. “That’s why we know how to get back out of it .”

The breath I draw in is deep and surprising even to me, a sudden intake of breath like a gasp .

Luke slings his arm over my shoulder and pulls me in close. Suddenly my heart is racing for an entirely different reason. He smells like soap and a faint scent of musk beneath that, fresh sweat from the fight. Something about him smells delicious to me. His scent reminds me of wood smoke on a crisp winter day .

You know you’re fucked up when you think a man’s sweat smells like it could be a Yankee Candle scent .

“We can take you back to campus,” he says. “Back to your boyfriend’s room. Keep your phone charged and be careful. I don’t want you to be mixed up in this .”

“In what?” I demand. “What am I not mixed up in, at this point ?”

“In this,” he repeats, maddeningly, gesturing at Rogers as Mave pops the trunk open. “In taking him somewhere against his will. Although it’s not like he’s talking right now .”

“That doesn’t help our case,” Mave says as he squats and slips an arm under Rogers’ frame, grunting as he heaves the big guy and slings him into the back of the car .

“Luke,” I say warningly .

“We are not going to do anything more illegal than kidnapping,” Luke promises me. It’s a fine state of affairs when the good guy is making promises like that. “Just being not-the-asshole-in-charge will make a guy like this talkative, trust me. It’s going to be fine .”

“But you don’t want me involved .”

“Nah,” Luke says. “You’re just such a nice girl. I’d hate to be the one to corrupt you.” He looks down at me with a half-smile, those gorgeous green eyes warm. His arm is still tight around my shoulder. My knees are shaking from the come-down after that flood of adrenaline, and I’m not sure if he’s holding me up .

I can’t stop thinking about the sheer, graceful violence of him turning and bobbing and punching. A ballet of blood and bruises. There’s something about his physicality, his competence with his body, that sheer protectiveness .

Just for a moment, I want him to corrupt me .