Page 4 of A Deeper Blue
Episode 3
Witches
Rafe
Rafe pulled into the parking lot of a roadside motel about a hundred miles from their starting point. The town was small, and the motel was next to a truck stop and a string of bars. The short strip was full of people as the bar hours were just getting started. He didn’t want to stop, but the girl’s repeated whacks on his arm and emphatic pointing were getting annoying.
“I was about to punch you in the ear,” she said when he shut off the engine. She shoved herself off the bike and stood next to it, arms folded across her chest. She looked ridiculously cute in his jacket.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Was carrying us away from imminent danger getting in the way of your evening plans?”
“What imminent danger?” she demanded.
“Uh… The Warlocks?” he suggested. Had she gotten hit the head?
“Yeah, and how many of them are there? Why are they after us? Will they follow us?”
“I don’t know—they’re a big club. How would I know? And, who can say? But I don’t want to stick around to find out.”
“Oh. A bigclub.” She was giving him a look.
He tried to smile innocently, but he couldn’t really remember what innocent looked like.
“Look,” he began, preparing to spin some sort of tale. “I think you—”
“Cisza!” she snapped and made a hand gesture. His voice immediately cut out. “Right,” she said. “Shall we perhaps talk about the things thatIthink?”
He opened his mouth to yell, and nothing came out. His mind flipped through the possibilities and finally landed on the only real explanation—the gorgeous girl in front of him was a witch.
Witch.
He mouthed the word silently.
“Yes,” she agreed.
Bitch.
That one, he snarled out.
“Yes, that too,” she added with a brilliant smile that he wanted to hate but couldn’t quite bring himself to do. “So now that we’ve established that I’m not going to believe whatever horseshit that you were about to shovel my way, would you care to try again?”
He glared at her, trying to figure out a scenario where he got his voice back and didn’t look like a pussy. She checked her nails and gave a sniff, waiting.
“I can wait all night,” she said. “Or I can just call an Uber.”
Fine.
He gestured angrily at his throat.
“I’m going to get us a room,” she said. “I don’t think we should talk out here.”
He pointed to the strip of bars.
“Too many people. We can camp out for a few hours, figure out what we’re going to do, and you can take a shower.”
He didn’t have a word that he thought she could lip-read for that.
“You kind of smell like piss beer, and well… just piss.”
