Page 46 of Graves

The wind wraps around us, hugging us tight as we continue our drive. I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before. Not for any particular reason, just never have. Now I kinda wish I would have before I was no doubt about to die. He turns to look over his shoulder, his eyes flickering over my face before he taps my hands. I’m assuming that means hold on.

I brace myself, and sure enough, he pops the bike into a wheelie. I let out a scream as fear rushes through me before the bike lands, and a giggle escapes me before I can stop it. Zaydendoes it again and again before he turns a hard left and we begin going down a heavily wooded road.

I’m not sure how long we’ve been driving for. Could be a few miles, or it could be fifty. Eventually, though, the trees become thicker until we come upon a graveyard. The temperature instantly drops by ten degrees, and an eerie feeling begins to sink low in my gut as he follows the dark, winding, uphill-paved path.

Out of nowhere, he slows down, pulling the bike off to the side before shutting it off. He pats my leg, and I am assuming that means to get off. I do as he says before he does the same, only he leans against the bike, sitting sideways on the seat as he pulls a cigarette out of his leather jacket and a lighter. He lights it as he pulls out a knife from his pocket and begins flicking it in his hands almost mindlessly.

“What did you see?” he asks, his eyes on me.

I glance around me, noticing no signs of life, literally, anywhere. Swallowing roughly, I decide to answer. “I saw you kill that man.”

He nods. “Does that make you afraid of me?”

“Well, yeah. You didn’t just kill him, you…you enjoyed it.”

A spark lights up behind his eyes as he keeps his impassive face and nods.

“I did.”

My eyes narrow at that.

“Why?”

A slow smile spreads across his face.

“It’s human nature. Kill or be killed. Hunt or be hunted. Wedon’t live in the Stone Age anymore, and things are a little more complicated, but the same remains. You’re either a hunter or you’re the prey.”

“What does that make me?” I ask carefully.

A small smirk spreads across his face.

“That all depends on you, angel.”

We don’t say anything more. Instead, we both sit here and watch one another, neither making a move of any sort. After a minute or so of this, Zayden lets out a chuckle.

“Want to play a game?”

“No. But I don’t think I have a choice, do I?” I ask.

“No.” He smirks. “We’re gonna play a little tag. If you win, you’ll eventually run into someone, tell them the crimes you witnessed, and about the men who held you hostage.”

“And if you win?” I ask with narrowed eyes.

His smirk transforms into a wicked grin as he watches me with an eager glint in his eyes.

“Then I get you.”

A rush of fear hits me. I don’t know if he means get as inkillor get as inget. Either way, I’m not too enthused. Then again, he’s practically offering me my freedom on a silver platter. All I have to do is outrun him. Or his bike. Fuck.

“No bike,” I barter.

He cocks his head to the side as I continue.

“On foot only, no cheating.”

That smile returns as he nods once.

“Of course.”

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