Page 113 of Awry
“I already made a call.I called Zaya.”
DeVille glances my way, sneering doubtfully now.It’s the double raised, arched eyebrows that really sell it.
I wonder if he practices in the mirror.
“And who the fuck is she?”
“My mentor,” Presh snaps.“And she isn’t going to sell me out just to get ahead with my brothers.”
“Our brothers,” he snaps back.
“We only share one!And you’d do anything to get your patch!”
“I watched your ass all night, didn’t I?I protected you, kept those guys away.”
Kris is chewing her lip, glancing between the other two as if she’s desperate to redirect the conversation.
I’m getting more than a little antsy myself.It could just be the pungent scent of drugs, vomit, and urine getting to me … but it might also be the beginning of a knowing.
“I don’t need your pathetic protection,” Presh says.“You haven’t even transformed yet.I have Zaya.”
DeVille actually takes a step forward before he gets hold of himself.Taunting shifters who haven’t manifested their beast yet is never a good idea.
Presh just raises her chin defiantly.
It’s freaking adorable, and maybe it’s the almost perfect mundanity of the moment that keeps me from forcing us all to move on, to move forward.
“Zaya looks like a gentle fucking breeze could knock her over.”DeVille’s condescending tone as he says my name is spectacular, but the rest of the comeback likely sounds as weak to his own ears as it does to the rest of us.Because his perpetual sneer transforms into a grimace for the briefest of moments.
“Try using all your senses, Andy.”Presh draws his name out tauntingly.“Let me help.The moment Zaya stepped into the alley, the entire area got a whole lot more dangerous and a whole lot safer.”
“Fine.”He settles back on his heels with a belligerent shrug.“Let’s see what your brothers have to say about it.”
Presh folds her arms, smiling smugly.“Yeah, let’s see.”
“Okay, onion rings.”I finally interject because for some reason, the mention of Presh’s brothers rubs at me weirdly.I turn back toward where I parked the truck.Presh instantly follows, only slightly unsteady on her feet.“What else?Fries?”
“Mmm,” she says, “they do this double-beef-patty cheeseburger that’s great.”
I don’t eat red meat, but this isn’t the time for exchanging personal details.
DeVille, with Kris practically skipping alongside him, dogs our heels.“Then what?”he asks.“The drive-thru and then?”
Presh opens her mouth, but I get there first.
“And then …” — the universe speaks through me — “… we go to the Outcast main clubhouse.”
Presh groans dramatically.“What?!No, Zaya!Everyone we’re trying to avoid will be there on a Saturday night!”
I shrug.“That’s just how life goes sometimes.”Then I keep walking, because I ignore a nudge from the universe only to my own detriment.And I’m most certainly not going to ignore one when I’ve got Precious at my side.
“Oh, I can’t go to the clubhouse!”Kris cries.“My sister will be there.Plus we’re, like, all underage.They won’t even let us in.”
I stop walking, abruptly and oddly enough that the teens all fall silent around me.The music from the rave is loud, but it doesn’t drown out the sound of approaching motorcycles.
“Zaya?”Presh asks quietly.“Your … um … your …”
DeVille interjects, “Your eyes are fucking glowing.It’s fucking creepy.”
