The Hunt

4

Zane

I WOKE ABRUPTLY, WITH A startled jump into alertness. Like I’d been dreaming about falling off a cliff and something snapped me out of it right before I hit the ground.

It took me a second to orient myself, to remember that I wasn’t in my room at home. I hadn’t intended to fall asleep. I’d just kicked off my shoes and closed my eyes to wait for Ariane.

Ariane.

I sat up. Light slanted out of the partially closed bathroom door, and though the shower was now off, the smell of it—a flowery, soapy humidity—still filled the room.

So I hadn’t been asleep for that long.

The clothes I’d put on the floor were gone. She was probably getting dressed.

I lay back against the lumpy pillows and relaxed.

Or tried to.

I frowned. Something wasn’t right.

Eventually it dawned on me that there was a strange, empty quality to the silence in the room. At first, I thought it was just the absence of the water thundering through the pipes and pounding into the tub. No pressure issues here.

Then I realized that it was both more and less than that.

I could hear a dog barking in the distance. Cars passed with a quiet whush-whush on the road in front of the motel. But nothing closer, nothing in the room. No rustle of fabric, no bare feet slapping against the tile floor.

Ariane was quiet, definitely. She’d moved through the forest preserve tonight like a ninja, with me blundering on behind her.

But even she couldn’t be completely silent.

Unless…

I bolted upright. “Ariane?”

No response.

…unless she wasn’t here.

I looked immediately to the chair in the corner where she’d put her emergency bag. It was gone.

Maybe that didn’t mean anything. She hadn’t let it out of her sight since we’d recovered it. I could easily see her deciding to haul it with her if she went to get ice or hit a vending machine or something.

I was still rationalizing when I saw the note on the dresser, a small square of white pinned down by a lone roll of cash like the world’s most expensive paperweight.

My heart fell. I knew what this was without even reading the note.

And yet that didn’t keep me from scrambling, half falling off the bed to get to it.

Zane, I’m sorry.

The words crushed something hopeful and fragile in me, something I hadn’t even known still existed until it was gone. My mind immediately flashed back to a very similar note I’d found on the kitchen counter the morning after my mom left. Clearly I was doing something wrong, to keep getting these things.

With an effort, I forced my attention back to Ariane’s words.

Things have changed, and this is more dangerous than I realized. I can’t put you in any further risk.

It had to be the letter. The one in the emergency duffel. Not that she’d told me what that letter had said. But that was the only thing I could think of that could have changed her understanding of the situation this dramatically.

I’m leaving money for a cab to take you to your mom’s house. I wish I could go with you. I wish

Whatever she’d wished, or nearly wished, she’d crossed it out so thoroughly, the paper had ripped beneath the point of the pen.

—When you call for a cab, DON’T give them the room number.

—Wait until you see the cab in the parking lot before you leave the room.

—Don’t leave the room if you see any other vehicles waiting.

—If you feel unsafe…

I crumpled up the note without reading the rest, frustration and hurt warring inside me. She was trying to protect me. I understood that. But it wasn’t her decision.

I wasn’t as skilled as she was—no big leap there—but I’d known the choice I was making when I’d left with her. Didn’t that count for something?

I snagged the ball of cash off the dresser. Thousands of dollars for a cab ride that might cost fifty bucks. She was looking out for me, again, at the expense of herself.

I shook my head, my jaw so tight my teeth ached.

I’d been expecting this, sort of. The moment she realized that she didn’t need someone like me hanging around. Slowing her down, a voice in my head added. It sounded suspiciously like my dad, which only made me angry.

But I’d thought there’d be a chance to try to talk her out of it. Or, at least, to say good-bye.

The lump in my throat made it hard to swallow. I just wanted…I didn’t know what I wanted. But it wasn’t for this to end now, to never see Ariane again.

In the too-loud silence of the room, I heard an engine turn over in the parking lot below, cough, and then catch.

Electricity shot through my veins. Had I just missed her? Had I woken up just seconds after she left? It seemed impossible, the odds completely against me. If she wanted to sneak out and disappear without being caught, she could do it. And yet…

I jammed the cash in my pocket and bolted for the door, jerking it open without bothering to check through the peephole first (even as Ariane’s instructions from the note nagged at me from the back of my head).

In the parking lot, our van was backing slowly out of the spot where I’d left it.

I threw myself down the stairs, taking multiple steps at once until I reached the bottom.

By the time I got there, she was already shifting into drive—I could hear the change in the engine noise. If I tried to run toward the van, she’d easily accelerate past me, leaving me behind for good.

That pretty much left only one option, one that banked on Ariane being more concerned with my safety than her own need for escape. In other words, an option that I wasn’t entirely confident in.

I took a deep breath, and with the bitter metal taste of fear in my mouth, I darted directly into the path of the van, little rocks biting through my socks and into the vulnerable bottoms of my feet.

The headlights blinded me instantly, tires squealing on the asphalt a second later as she hit the brakes.

The van stopped about three feet in front of me, and I let out the breath I’d been holding.

“What are you doing, Zane?” Ariane asked, cold and distant but clear enough. She must have unrolled the window.

“I think that’s my line,” I said, somehow angrier now that she was talking to me. “What the hell, Ariane?”

“Get out of the way,” she said flatly.

“No.”

She heaved a sigh. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“By leaving me in the dark?” I gestured to the sky. “Literally.”

“This…” She paused as if trying to find the right words. “This isn’t your problem,” she said finally. “I can’t ask you to take any more risks.”

“Here’s the thing: you didn’t actually ask me anything. You just left.” I could hear my hurt and anger, and I didn’t bother to hide it. She’d sense it in my thoughts anyway, so what was the point.

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” she said, that edge returning to her voice.

“You’re right. Because you didn’t tell me!” I was shouting now and found I didn’t care.

“Hey, is everything okay out here? Do I need to call someone?” I looked over to find the burly manager standing in the doorway of the office. With my vision temporarily impaired from the headlights, he appeared more like a human-shaped blob. But he was apparently a human-shaped blob with a phone and an itchy 911 finger.

I faced Ariane, holding my arm to partially block the headlights. “I don’t know. Is it?”

The tension of the moment spread out, a taut line between Ariane and me and a fainter tentacle stretching out toward the motel manager.

I decided to push. I know you can hear me, Ariane, so let me put this in a way you’ll understand: If you don’t let me into this van and tell me what’s going on, I swear to God, when GTX finds me, and you know they will, I’ll happily tell them everything I know about Talia Torv and her Canadian citizenship.

I sensed more than saw her shock. It was an ugly threat and not one I would have willingly followed through with, but it was the only one I had to make. If she was playing dirty, so was I.

“Get in,” she said.

I waited until I heard the engine shift into idle and the thump of her unlocking the passenger door before I moved.

“No worries,” I said to the manager, who was watching suspiciously, as I climbed in. “We’re fine. No trouble here.”

He grunted at me, indicating his disbelief in those statements. I wasn’t sure I could blame him.