Page 26 of Awry
“Go.”He disconnects the call.
I get out of the car, really not certain how I’m actually still on my feet.I grab my suitcase out of the broken trunk, because we’re going to have to change again, and Presh needs some focused healing.
I realize that I haven’t fully answered Presh’s questions— and also that I might have downplayed the most important part.“Precious,” I say, “you were listening, right?When I said that no one has the ability to come back from full death like I do?”
She chews on her lower lip, nodding.“I’ve never met anyone with purple eyes.”
“You will learn what you can do, what your own purple eyes mean, in time.But being an awry doesn’t mean that you can throw yourself toward death and expect to survive it.”
She crinkles her nose.Then, reminding me that she’s only a teenager, she says, “It looked seriously nasty.I don’t think anyone would actually want to be able to do that, Zaya.”
“Okay.Good.”
I’ve really fucked with Presh’s fate today.My death hopefully evens out that balance, but … I didn’t think about the ramifications of a burgeoning awry, with no understanding of what her powers might be, using me as any sort of measuring stick.
Both of us are exhausted again just by the effort of getting out of the car.So we walk in slow silence along the side of the road, shoulders brushing, but not speaking.Huge raindrops pelt us, pelt the pavement so hard they bounce off, causing pretty flares of backsplash.
The day is gettinggrayer and wetter as we approach our destination — a cute, two-tier motel with white siding and light-blue doors perched on a low cliff overhanging a sandy beach.The Crescent Moon Inn.It’s the first building on the ocean side of the road that we’ve come across since leaving the car.What appears to be a mostly residential area spreads out beyond the inn.Even in the brief glance I get of it, it’s obvious that this entire township has been completely revitalized by someone, or an organization, with deep pockets.
The No Vacancy sign is lit, but the parking lot isn’t even a third full.Best guess?Rath— which is to say, his biker club— has enough pull to rent out the entire place for the afternoon, excepting any already occupied rooms.
Presh and I are soaked through.Again.But thankfully, my wheeled suitcase and bag protect most of what we’re dragging along with us.Or that I’m dragging, because Presh’s limp is getting worse and worse.
A few cars going in the same direction have slipped past us while we walked, slowing and politely giving us a wide berth but not taking a second or third look.I’m not surprised.Even if they can’t see my eyes through my sunglasses, we’re strangers walking through neutral territory.Well, limping through.But still upright.
The clerk behind the reception desk in the motel office doesn’t look up as we pass, rather pointedly turning their back and cranking up the volume of the overhead TV.
I’m not quite certain how I’m still managing to put one foot in front of the other as we cut straight through the parking lot and up to unit five on the ground floor.No one steps out of any of the other rooms.Unit five is literally in the center of the building, which feels like an odd choice.I would have picked a corner.Because if we have to run, anyone could be hiding in any of the other ground-floor units.
It’s not my call, though.And I’m too spent, beyond tired and into the realm of utterly numb, to fuss.
Theknowingreleases me the moment I lay my hand on the door latch, and I pause for a moment.Waiting.Allowing my barely functional senses to stretch out around us — an awareness more than anything actionable, really.
The gutters on the corner overhanging the front reception area and office are clogged, overflowing.Just beyond that corner of the building, a few seagulls circle, likely directly above the composter tucked around the side of the motel.A few cars speed past on the main road.No one else abruptly appears or looks out a window.
My awry senses — usually attuned to the essence of life — aren’t functioning at the moment.Even Presh with her spiral of branched, multi-tiered threads is just a quiet, shivering presence tucked at my side.
“Zaya?”she asks in a whisper.
“We’re okay here,” I say, turning the latch and opening the door.
Inside the room, the far bedside table lamp is on.The overhead lights are off.Fresh towels — presumably in addition to those already in the bathroom — and a large first-aid kit are set on the nearer of the two double beds.The walls are painted a soft beige, and the machine-quilted comforters are light blue.The gauzier of the two front curtains is drawn, but the darker-blue blackout drapes are still open.
I pause again, dripping on the threshold.Nothing moves or shifts in the plain but clean motel room.It smells like unscented air freshener.
“Zaya?”Presh asks again gently, touching my elbow as if she expects me to tip over at any moment.
And she’s not wrong.
“I’m not totally functional,” I say.
It doesn’t completely explain my freezing in place twice in a row, but Presh nods, firms her grip on my elbow, and practically shoves me a couple of steps into the room, just enough to close the door behind us.
Straining up on her toes and panting through pain while doing so, she runs her hand along the top and then along the unhinged side of the door, activating a pressure-triggered locking mechanism.Unseen bolts clank into place on the door one by one, three at the top and bottom and five along the edge, judging by the sound.
The door will be fortified against shifters or any mage with the strength to simply bust through it.If I had any brainpower to spare, I could check the front window and would likely find essence-fortified glass as well.The walls are no doubt similarly constructed.
So unit five was actually a very deliberate choice, given what Rath knows of who was chasing us.
