MEETING HER FATE

PROLOGUE

One August Night

MASSACHUSETTS. USA

Thursday, August 19th, 2010

Miles of asphalt had disappeared under the car’s wheels. Driving from Montana to Lockwood was always a tedious task because it was such a long way. He was always left wishing he’d flown instead, but then he’d still have to go the rest of the way by road anyway, which somehow seemed drearier than driving the whole way. Besides, air travel drew too much attention in the worlds current climate, so he figured he should make the best of it – with the radio turned up, he adjusted the driver’s seat for maximum comfort.

The distance meant that he only paid visits to the sleepy Maine town if he was somewhat in the area, which only happened when he had business in New York - that business had concluded the day before. Avoiding interstates for fear of falling asleep, he’d been driving for hours, but it truly felt like days.

Two motels, a seven/eleven, and a packet of cigarettes later, another remote fuel station cropped up on the side of the road. Pulled over, he surmised he was somewhere just outside of Boston, but where exactly he didn’t know.

With a fresh tank of gas, some more smokes, and a coffee-to-go, he climbed back into the black rental car and pulled off onto the road again. Scenes of picturesque forestry and wilderness passed by until the woods disappeared and the next urbanised area dominated the landscape. When another flourish of woodland came into view around midnight, the dull ache behind his eyes made him consider whether it was time for another break to stretch his legs and get some fresh air. Parked in a desolate roadside reservation with the headlights still on, he rolled down the window to smoke. Between his fingertips, a lit match lingered before the cigarette he held in his lips, but before he could light it, his cell phone rang.

He greeted habitually with a ‘hello’ before he read the name on his cell phone’s caller ID. “Ah, Magnus, good evening.”

“Hola, mijo. Just checking in. Where are you right now?” The deep, raspy voice of his Hispanic mentor asked.

“Uh, by the side of the road near somewhere called Concord. Why?” In return, his rich tenor sounded down the line, but he didn’t sound as sharp as usual because he was tired.

“No reason. Then you’re not in Lockwood yet?”

“No, I suppose I’m taking the scenic route. I don’t often get the luxury of a vacation, so I figured why not at least enjoy the commute.” He explained in a slightly mocking tone. Magnus had a vacation from his tireless work as the International Vampiric Governments’ Military Coordinator coming up soon. The organisation’s leader had been working him into the ground lately, what with their military’s special forces, The Black Winter being sent on deployment missions monthly.

Lately, there had been so much death that the vampiric community had become hyper-aware of the death toll, whereas most had become desensitised. Perhaps the apocalypse was indeed upon them if a race known for its violence had started to wince in reaction to the incessant slaughter. However, this wasn’t a ‘war’ in any traditional sense – this wasn’t a country vs country conflict, no this was a race war and not just one race against another; it was one race against many. The revelation that mythicals existed had turned neighbour upon neighbour overnight.

There had quickly come the point where it felt beyond anyone’s control, especially now that racial divides felt wider than ever before. It seemed that people had forgotten the meaning of peace, which made it seem even further away and unachievable. Nowadays, doing nothing in retaliation to the infectious hatred felt as unnatural as it was useless to stop the annihilation. Fundamentally the IVG were grasping at straws, unsure what to do next to quell the global angst amongst its vamperic community, but honestly, any reaction seemed like a lost cause.

Having turned off the ignition, he opened the car door and stepped out into the night. The air was cool and refreshing, and he took a moment to enjoy it before it occurred to him that even though he was on a desolate road, it was still public, so there was a chance he might be seen. So, from the back seat, he grabbed his coat and shrugged it on while holding the cell phone to his ear.

“My holiday starts in two weeks. I’m looking forward to seeing you.” Magnus replied.

“Yes, so am I, and it’ll be good for you to see what I’ve been up to over here. It’s been quite the project, but ‘The Compound’ is coming along. We’re almost at full capacity.”

“Si, we’re excited to see what you’ve accomplished in such a sh-”

“We?” He disrupted bluntly, “You’re bringing Ellis with you?”

“Of course, I don’t see this as a problem. Is it?” Magnus asked innocently, even though he knew his wife’s infidelity was a given. All the Spaniard got by way of reply was a defeated groan, which made him chuckle. “I will call you when we land. Send a car for us, won’t you? Oh, and let me know when you get to Lockwood. Adiós.”

“Alright, I will. I’ll see you in two weeks.”

Once the call ended, he pushed his cell phone into his coat pocket but decided to remain outside a little longer, if only to finish his smoke. He’d come to be lent on the side of the car, looking out towards the treeline. It was a chilly night but not raining at least and seemed pleasant enough weather for a stroll and perhaps a bite to drink if he happened across an unfortunate soul, he thought.

Taking in the night-time woodland, he wandered here and there for about an hour while the steady rhythm of his footfalls lulled him towards tranquillity. The deathly quiet, a sign that most creatures nearby were sleeping, was peaceful too and aided in finding the respite he sought. The fresh, almost dewy air was a welcome change from the dry a/c he’d had blowing over his face all day. Only the distant humming flutter of moths wings disturbed the air, and the slight breeze barely moved the leaves and branches above. Still, it was a cool August evening, so his coat felt necessary even if it was only a costume – he no longer felt the bite a cooler temperature could inflict on mortal skin. Habitually he walked with his hands tucked away in his pockets and continued his nocturnal stroll, following his nose to nowhere in particular.

The musty earth and zesty perfume that burst from the undergrowth as he squashed it underfoot were all smells so usual that there was also peace to be found in their mundane presence. If he closed his eyes, he might’ve been able to home in on the unique scents of the woodlands animals, but instead, he kept his eyes trained forwards, satisfied that everything was plain and simple and in its place.

On the west wind came a sickly sweet scent - it was intense, edging on non-mortal and very out of place. The light-footed hunter traversed the next two hundred yards stealthily in search of the scent, and that was when he saw her. She hadn’t seen him, at least not yet, and she certainly wouldn’t have heard him creeping through the undergrowth. Predatory instinct had taken over, so staying inhumanly still, he watched her from behind a pine tree. In place of his usually crystalline blue gaze, his darkening thirsty eyes peered from under his defined brow. He was already wondering whether she would become his unsuspecting victim. The girl’s footsteps were clumsy as she ambled over the uneven terrain in her flimsy tennis shoes. The bottom of her jeans were muddy, and she looked quite dishevelled yet managed to remain unassuming. He wouldn’t have picked her out in a crowd; that much went without saying, but she looked only to be of high school age and would’ve been an easy snack.

It was no surprise that she regularly slipped under the radar like she snuck out of her house almost daily to retreat to Walden woods. Her woodland strolls were part of her everyday routine, especially in the summer, when the days were longer. Mostly she looked for a comfortable spot to stop and sketch for a while. Anything to escape her parents and pretend she had a different life, even if it was for a short time. There she would stay until the light was too soft for her to see the page clearly or her pencil lead wore down so dull there was no point carrying on.

That particular evening, one week before she was due to start her senior year of high school, she came to be sat on a smooth, flat rock hidden between the trees. In her hands, she clutched two thick envelopes that she had received in her school mailbox that afternoon. The first, she’d been dreaming of her whole life. It was from the Harvard University Admissions’ office and addressed to Miss K. I. Morgan. She was terrified of opening it, though she knew a thick envelope usually meant good news. So instead, she stalled, anticipating what it would say - was it her ticket out of her family and into some new life as an academic? Somewhere she could spend her whole life studying whatever the hell she wanted. She could leave Massachusettes and never have to look back – but was dreaming of becoming successful too much? Perhaps it was just another rejection! When her thoughts quickly turned negative, she glanced at the other envelope, the one she hadn’t been expecting. It was folded out of thick off-white paper- not your regular stationery. It had no return address, and in what was clearly handwritten black ink, was just her first name scrawled on the front. How casual it appeared made her slightly wary of it because she couldn’t think of one person she knew on a first name basis who would write to her. Put off by the irregular and braced for disappointment, she set the informal letter aside and began to peel back the ear on the one from Harvard University. When in doubt, go with the familiar. She thought.

“Please, please, please...” she whispered, gently pulling the slip of paper out from inside.

“Dear Miss Morgan,” she read aloud in her head, “Congratulations! We are excited to offer you admission to Harva-.”

Her heart skipped a beat but not for the right reason. No, she heard a branch snap which startled her and stole her attention from the letter instantly.

Though she may not have known it, just when she’d been about to choose one path, a different choice appeared in the shape of a slender six-foot-tall man that stood at a distance before her. He had thick brown hair, a stubbled chin, and was wearing a black woollen duffel coat and dark jeans. The stranger looked immaculate and expensive, especially out in the rugged wilderness - to her mind, he was the one notably out of place.

Naturally, she jumped at the sight of him, and the admissions letter fell to the leaf litter beneath where she sat. People walked through these woods all the time, but usually, they would pass her by but not this person. No, he was staring directly at her, and she couldn’t help but stare back at him. She didn’t even look down to see the snapped branch under his foot. He had trampled it when curiosity had gotten the better of him and caused him to step out from behind the tree and into her line of sight.

For now, while silence lingered between them, he waited to see if she would run, but seeing that he’d interrupted a quiet, personal moment and having caught her off guard, he wouldn’t have been surprised if her reflexes were lax. His eyes flickered to the letter she’d been reading as it fell from her fingers and to him; the timing of her solitude was altogether curious. What are you doing out so late and alone? It was gone midnight, but to make sure, he un-tucked his left hand from the deep pocket of his duffle coat and pushed back the sleeve to glance at the face of his silver wristwatch. As expected, it was about half-past twelve, which meant the sun had gone down hours ago. The chill in the air was indicative of the season, but she didn’t seem appropriately dressed, which was equally as curious as her activity.

The silence shattered when he said, “Good morning,” in an accent that was too southern for him to belong in that part of the US, but he was definitely American. The timbre of his voice had a rich quality on the first impression - it was low but not in a husky, gravelly sort of way. On the contrary, it was smooth, inviting, and gentle in contrast to the angles of his face and the way his brow set over his piercing eyes in an involuntarily hostile way. Right now, as he stared her down, it wouldn’t have been misplaced fear if she found his gaze threatening; he was an apex predator, afterall.

The things which he found intriguing seemed like the defining details of a horrific news report to her, so of course, she instantly found herself wary of the stranger, but how deadly he was hadn’t quite hit home yet. Slowly, she shone her flashlight in his direction. When the beam cast over him, and she squinted, trying to make out the details of his appearance. Oh God, she thought, Why is he talking to me? Move along creep, and leave me alone! This is it - this is everything you’ve been warned about as a kid. Don’t talk to strangers, especially at night, in the woods. The worst-case scenario played out in her imagination which was quite fertile due to her being a book lover. She imagined a search party combing through the exact spot they were in. All they’d find would be her Harvard acceptance letter, crumpled on the forest floor, stained with her blood. Her strange coppery coloured blood, which she’d been conditioned into thinking was a rare genetic disorder like her headaches and alarmingly vivid dreams that often depicted ordinary day to day things. Even this moment was familiar, and a sense of déjà vu come over her. How did that dream end? She wondered amidst her other scattered thoughts. Had it been sinister? Did it end with her in the back of some van, towed off to God knows where? Did she meet her demise? Try as she might, she couldn’t remember.

Always, Concord was known as a safe town, but she travelled with the pocket knife she’d stolen from her father years ago, just in case. Steadily, she reached into the pouch pocket of her sweatshirt, and though her fingers gripped around the shaft of the blade, she prayed she wouldn’t have to brandish her weapon because, honestly, she had no melee technique. Without realising, she displayed some typical prey behaviour and held completely still as if she were hoping the man would just go away.

Having already reasoned that she was around a ten-minute walk from her home, less than that back to a street where she could run for help if needed so she was quietly confident that she could get away and probably wasn’t as frightened as she should’ve been. Ironically, it stood to reason that maybe her reaction to this stranger was diluted due to how commonplace paranoia was to her. She was always on edge - anticipating something terrible might happen to her at any moment. Yet, she was brave enough to fight her fears for the most part, even if therapy and the reassurance that it was ‘all in her head’ had ultimately only made her anxieties worse. One of her deepest secrets was that she’d once been about two symptoms away from being diagnosed as schizophrenic; she still found that hilarious. Sane people do end up in asylums, she recalled thinking at the time. However, it would be some time until she realised her pathology wasn’t at all the symptom of some psychiatric condition but rather a benign trait of her true nature.

The stranger stood waiting for a response, not ten yards away, while she reeled through a thousand thoughts in less than a minute. There he stood, thinking only two things: fight or flight. He didn’t mind which, in fact, his rational mind left room for another reaction, one of stunned silence and stillness elicited by unshakable fright. Indeed, she’d frozen. At least that’s how it seemed from his perspective.

Scaring the girl gave no boost to his ego when she seemed pretty pathetic in her overwhelming meekness. At least now he was closer, he could get a better look at her - the girl’s hair was black in the dark, but he imagined it was more likely dark brown in daylight. Still, it was long, and she wore it pulled back into a thick ponytail save for the strand that’d fallen loose to frame her face. Her complexion was pale, almost void of colour, and to evaluate her frame as slight was to neglect the fact that she was on the edge of malnourished underneath the tatty sweatshirt she wore. If it hadn’t been for the well-kept leather backpack resting at her feet and the latest smartphone perched on her knee, he would’ve veered towards the idea that she was a homeless teenaged runaway. But, despite his evaluation of her appearance, it was her eyes that gained the majority of his attention - they were truly haunted. Even in the low light, and masked by the flashlights glow, he could see them - round and alert like a doe’s, but the colour was a rare gun-metal blue - he would never forget eyes like those.

“I don’t have any money,” she exclaimed in desperation. As if that might convince him she was a waste of time. It had never entered her head that he might’ve wanted her for a darker purpose. Even if she considered all manner of violent and sinister things he could’ve had in mind, drinking her blood wouldn’t have featured.

Undeterred by what she said, the stranger edged closer because there was nothing to fear on his part, but he wasn’t in a rush to instigate small talk. In spite of having greeted her first, he took a moment to consider whether he was obliged to take part in a conversation – wasn’t it just courtesy to greet someone you found yourself sharing eye contact with? Furthermore, he was still deciding if she was going to become his midnight snack. In the end, regardless of his silence, he ventured closer still and came to be stood merely a foot away with his hands tucked back into his pockets.

In reaction to his moving closer and with his hands conspicuously concealed, she had no choice other than to reveal her knife as a warning to stay back.

“It’s a good thing I don’t want money then, but aren’t you asking for trouble being out so late and alone?” He inquired calmly, though, ignoring the knife was impossible; it was of no consequence when she held it in such an unskilled and haphazard fashion. However, the girl had a better ‘weapon’ in her arsenal that she didn’t seem aware of; her scent. Upon first catching the sweet perfume on the wind, he guessed that she might not have been mortal, but now having seen her, he put the thought from his mind, for she looked very mortal indeed. For that reason, he wouldn’t go for her neck even if the idea had momentarily crossed his mind.

“I could say the same to you,” the girl replied, rather wittily for someone who looked as meek as she did.

It was amusing to him that she responded so sassily, but that still didn’t phase him. Boldly, he stepped even closer and crouched down to pick up the letter that’d fluttered from her fingers earlier. He didn’t presume to read it, but when he caught a glimpse of the letterhead - that surprised him. Harvard? How curious. She’s smart enough to know that being out this late in such a desolate place is extremely dangerous then, or perhaps she’s one of those geniuses that has absolutely no common sense. “You… Dropped this...” He uttered and held out the letter for her to take back. Despite how benign he was attempting to present himself, it was no use because, in his words, lay his predatory allure. It was simply his nature. Even when he wasn’t intentionally after blood, he couldn’t keep the mechanisms of his vampirism hidden, especially when he was already so thirsty and trying to ignore how delicious she smelled. He’d decided it was imperative that he didn’t allow his thirst to get the better of him, so he’d stopped breathing; otherwise, he feared her mouth-watering aroma might’ve made him do something ungentlemanly.

As he approached, the girl squinted against the torchlight to see him more clearly. The closer he came, the more she sensed that something was very disarming about him – that cursed allure was working its magic. Fortunately, instead of putting her at ease, it made her mistrust her instinct to drop the knife and hold it a little tighter and wield it with a little more conviction. Whether it was her paranoia or not, she couldn’t shake the feeling that a person with a face like his didn’t belong in that setting. His features were very much the type she’d only ever seen before in movies. With a soul swallowing gaze, he peered through the dark strands of his touseled hair that fell onto his forehead while she eyed the shape of his jaw and the stubble that grew there, along with his height and broad shoulders; she concluded he was incredibly handsome. In a moment of weakness, having been somewhat beguiled by him, she thought, I suppose it wouldn’t be that bad to be kidnapped by him. Romanticising her possible abduction was a dangerous road to go down, she realised and consequently scolded herself. Snapping back into reality, she mumbled, “Thanks,” while promptly lunging for the acceptance letter to stuff it into the pocket of her sweatshirt. Despite only looking away from him for a split second, she realised even faster that in that mere moment of distraction, he could’ve had her when her guard was down. Amidst more self-critical thoughts, she spluttered forth a question in an attempt to present some modicum of confidence. “Are you… are you lost or something? The path’s back there, y’know?” She pointed just behind him, to where a marked trail led back toward the pond. Just as he had wondered about her business in the woods so late, she found it equally as curious that he was there. She knew that sometimes kids from her school would come out to build fire pits and drink cheap vodka they’d pocketed illegally, but surely, the man in front of her was much too sophisticated looking to be doing anything like that?

“No, I’m not lost.” The tall, dark stranger answered plainly. To ask if one was lost was to assume several things - one that he’d had a destination in mind and hadn’t found his way there, or two that he couldn’t find his way back to where he’d begun. Neither was true; he just didn’t know where he was, which differed from being lost. “Are you?” He asked after a short pause, and while it seemed harmless, the undertone of his voice insinuated he almost hoped she was and that no one would miss her if he took her away. The closer he got, the more he realised how easy she would be to subdue, how he could have his fill, and simply discard her exsanguinated corpse amongst the many trees. Lost in his dark fantasies, he’d licked his lips briefly before coming back to his senses to say, “Assuming you have a home to go to… shouldn’t you be going back there? Who knows who else you could bump into if you can come across me at this hour? It’s not safe out this late, in a desolate wood.” He emphasised, maybe what he said w0uld stir a little healthy fear in her and cause her to flee.

“Thanks for the concern, but I’m not lost,” the girl retorted quickly enough to sound confident. “I live a few minutes from here, actually.” His statement instilled no sense of danger but confirmed that he wasn’t from around these parts when he talked about these woods as a potentially dangerous place. Never before had she recognised any such danger. Ironically, she felt far safer out there in the woods than within the walls of her own home, though that was a truth she would never dare say out loud.

In response, the man fought back a smirk. Apparently, the girl wasn’t as meek and mild as she first appeared; she was quite feisty. Managing to keep his composure, he sniffed the air discretely while looking around - scoping the darkness for signs of life to check if what she had said was true or mere bravado. There was no one else within at least a half-mile, he was certain, but he supposed she hadn’t lied. Silently, considering matters of life and death, he looked back the way he came. Maybe he should just turn around, walk away and leave her there to go about living however she did day-to-day. But then he would wonder what happened to her, and once he’d picked up a puzzle, he couldn’t put it down until its mysteries were no longer so. So far, he’d only considered two scenarios; if he stayed, she wouldn’t see the dawn, but if he left, her lives possibilities were endless.

The time in which he didn’t speak was starting to stretch into an uncomfortable silence. However, it seemed his pondering wasn’t over yet, and while he still weighed up the options, he didn’t want her appearance to interfere with his rationale. Just when she thought she’d gained the attention of his eyes again, he turned to look off into the only direction he could smell life. That must be the town you live in.

Watching the man’s strange mannerisms left the girl feeling a peculiar sense of intrigue - looking at him was like looking at a secret. Here was someone who was obviously ‘a somebody’, who most likely lived a life that was far removed from her own existence. She’d read many novels, fairy tales and horror stories before wherein, one way or another, the defenceless female antagonist was spirited away by some evil yet handsome stranger. There was either an unfathomable ‘happily ever after’, or the woman met her demise prematurely. The courageous girl was hedging her bets, hoping this stranger would compromise, let her slip through a crack in the usual tropes, and let her go on her way.

Though there was something undeniably ominous about him, unlike earlier, she found herself sitting there, sedate and calmly watching his face as he loomed in the darkness. What was more was that now she’d accidentally instigated a conversation in presenting him with a question. Preoccupied with speculation, her hands had revealed themselves from her pocket again, and unintentionally her hand that bore the knife came to rest idly on her knee as she sat atop the rock.

Just then, when he turned his head, she glimpsed a significant amount of circular scars that smattered his neck. The way the slightly glossier skin glinted in the beam of her flashlight was almost ornamental. Some might’ve thought them unsightly, but they were just another of his features that she found intriguing. So, there he was, this otherwise perfect specimen, who had such a peculiar pattern of scars all over his neck – she had no idea what conclusion that should lead her to, but she supposed it was undeniable that he was pleasant to look at.

“If you’re not lost, then maybe you should get on home before I change my mind.” Out of the blue, he muttered his suggestion, insinuating he’d finally decided something or other. Honestly, he had - he’d chosen a third scenario, one in which he didn’t lay a finger on her. Despite the fact he’d been burdened by a rather abhorrent appetite back in his youth, he had lived for many years battling his worse nature and right now, that meant not taking an innocent girls life on a whim. Notoriously stubborn - once he’d come to a conclusion, he wasn’t easily swayed from it. So now that the matter of her life no longer hung in the balance, his eyes found their way back to her face and asked her a question - the answer would humanise her for him and make it more difficult for him to deviate from his decision. “What’s your name?”

“My name?” Startled by the question, her back straightened, but it didn’t take her long to answer without reserve. “My name’s Karou Morgan.”

“Hmm, that is an... interesting name... I’ve never heard that before.” He looked intrigued, and the expression only made him more palatable, if that were even possible.

“What’s yours?” The girl asked, her head tilted to one side curiously.

To that, he smiled very faintly, finding her mannerisms endearing and entirely without meaning to revealed his most extraordinary secret - his fangs presented in the hollow of his lips. Foolishly, he’d forgotten to continue holding his breath, and her scent had inevitably inflamed his thirst for blood. Nevertheless, he held out his hand towards her as he made his introduction. “Warren Howard.”

There was a long moment, a pause in which he could almost hear the cogs in her head ticking over as she considered whether to shake his hand. Would it be rude not to? But maybe he’d understand her cautiousness? On the other hand, perhaps it was a test. The girl was brilliant enough to have caught onto his ulterior motive; he’d been trying to frighten her away - deep down in her gut, she had sensed that. Perhaps in offering his hand to her, he hoped she wouldn’t take it? Regardless, the quick decision to do what she did, didn’t seem all that significant at the time, but it was as substantial a life decision as opening her Harvard acceptance letter. Karou tucked the pocketknife away and extended her hand towards Warren. With her dainty hand in his, he sensed she wanted to flinch away the moment they’d made skin on skin contact. The look in her blue eyes questioned his temperature without her having to open her mouth. He was deathly cold, so cold that she couldn’t rationally put it down to the fall weather. An innocuous greeting had now become another glimpse into who this stranger was. While their eyes remained locked, it dawned on Karou that when she had first noticed his eyes, they’d been the colour of deep water, yet now, as she felt trapped in his gaze, they seemed utterly devoid of colour. Reality blurred, and when he gave her hand a gentle shake to complete the greeting ritual, a suspicious voice whispered from the back of Karou’s mind; What are you?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Karou heard herself say automatically as her hand slipped from his. They’d spoken in socially awkward unison and the moment and its comedic quality was so cliché. It had amused him too, and she thought she saw the handsome man almost smile. That made her blush, and how his black eyes gleamed when she couldn’t help but grin at him made her stomach do summersaults.

As they retracted their hands back into their pockets, the notion that his man was dangerous evaporated. Unfortunately for Karou, the innocence of her expression had only teased the vampire. The look that had altered his eyes was an indication that the risk of him biting her had increased momentarily.

Alas, with introductions made, however brief, he figured it was now the appropriate time to leave the girl to her mail and flee before things got out of hand. “As I said, shouldn’t you be getting home, Karou?” He asked, glancing in the direction of the town.

“Yeah, probably...” That was all that she replied, but it hadn’t escaped her that he seemed to know in exactly which direction she lived. What made it so odd was that he was evidently a tourist. However, what was stranger still was that he, a stranger, insisted she go back home. Why did he care? She’d stayed out a lot later than this before, and nobody had ever noticed her absence at home.

“Perhaps… you’d let me walk you home?” The words rolled out his mouth without first having put his brain in gear. Just being in her company while maintaining composure wasn’t the easiest of tasks, yet the tiny amount of human empathy that still dwelled within his bones made him want to ensure that she made it safely from the woods. What could be more deadly to a young girl in that wood than him? He doubted there was anything, but if the thing that could bring her the most harm kept her safe, she would perhaps get home alive.

Being above average intelligence meant Karou had already made an escape plan, but this scenario - her new acquaintance asking to remain in her company in such a gentlemanly manner – didn’t align with any of the prescribed endings she’d envisaged. She was dumbfounded but supposed that so far, nothing about this man was what she expected. So, having quickly adjusted her plan, she said, “Uh, sure, that’s fine,” Karou felt a little safer knowing that she had the home advantage; she knew the streets like the back of her hand. She wouldn’t lead this Warren fellow straight to her front door. No, not even to the street on which she lived. As a safeguard, she’d only take him as far as the first road beyond the treeline; that way, he couldn’t follow her home so easily. If an unexpected chase took place, perhaps she could use shortcuts and back alleys to outwit him. Still, the possibility of that outcome kept getting slimmer and slimmer from Karou’s perspective, even if she couldn’t stop her overactive sixth sense warning that he was dangerous. Karou supposed she could trust him enough to take her eyes off of him for a second but not enough to turn her back on him. She lingered on the spot, waiting to see if he’d walk next to her or follow her. “This way...” She said, directing her flashlight away from him to illuminate the path.

Warren stepped about the rock and up to her side, then nodded in the direction of town. “Lead the way.”

The first five minutes passed in silence, with the odd pair walking side by side and seemingly in no rush to make it to the street in the ten minutes Karou had mentioned it should take. Often, she glanced up to check he was still there and get another sneaky peek at his handsome features. His footfalls were so quiet that she could’ve been forgiven for assuming he’d abandoned her. Sure enough, he was still there, and most of the time, she found him looking ahead, but once every few glances, she caught him looking at her too. He didn’t seem embarrassed by her discovering him, but it made her feel a little shy. She swallowed down the queasy feeling that bubbled up from her stomach and refocused on the path.

In the quiet, she allowed her mind to wander; Warren was otherworldly, she concluded. “You’re not from around here, are you?” The question seemed innocent enough, but it was loaded. It would’ve been so much easier on her nerves if he’d confirm her nigglingly suspicion, even if she couldn’t form the thought into words because it seemed so far fetched – her gut knew he wasn’t human.

“No, I’m just passing through,” Warren answered honestly but without really giving anything away.

“Going… anywhere nice?” Karou found herself prying shamelessly.

“I’m heading north.”

The brevity and vagueness of his answer made him infuriatingly intriguing. Still, Karou accepted his explanation and dropped the subject to look back where she was going, with only a nod of acknowledgement.

Another five minutes had ticked by, and sure enough, they left the treeline behind and came to the edge of a street. Stood silently, side by side on the sidewalk, their meeting had come to an end, and goodbye was imminent.

Their parting was brief, and before her eyes focused back on his face, Warren was no longer next to her. She watched the dark and handsome stranger walk until he became another part of the darkness and engulfed by Walden woods. It was very anti-climactic, Karou supposed, but on the other hand, she thought that she ought to have felt thankful; the situation could’ve gone awry so easily.

Warren had no idea if Karou made it home safe, but at least she’d made it back to town. That gave him enough peace of mind to return to his rental car and onward to Maine without what was left of his morality, giving him grief.

Despite the minor detour from his plan, meeting the girl had brought, he carried on his journey, and as promised, he called Magnus upon his arrival in Lockwood but didn’t mention Karou. Sure, her scent was mysterious, and her eyes were captivating. Overall, she’d been a rather enchanting little thing, pretty even, but he wouldn’t allow her to capture his imagination any further.

~*~