MEETING HER FATE

BOOK ONE of the GODS & MONSTERS SAGA

CHAPTER ONE

One August Night

Miles of asphalt had disappeared under the rental car’s wheels. Driving from Montana to the East coast was always a laborious task that left him wishing he’d flown instead. Yet, the tedium of baggage collection and security made him impatient to get out of the airport. Not to mention that in the world’s current social climate, air travel drew too much attention, and he had a secret identity to keep.

The two-thousand-mile distance meant that he only paid visits to his final destination - the mythic Maine town of Lockwood - if he was somewhat in the area. Occasions such as this only arose when he had business in New York City. That business had concluded two days prior, so now he was back on the road, making the seven-hour drive north through New England. Figuring he should make the best of it - with the radio turned up and driver’s seat adjusted for maximum comfort - he settled in for the long haul.

Weaving between interstates to stave off boredom, he’d left Connecticut and Rhode Island behind and headed into Massachusetts. Two rest stops, a seven/eleven, and a packet of cigarettes later, a remote fuel station cropped up on the side of the road just as the low fuel light blinked on. Pulled over, he checked his map and surmised he was a little way 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 onto the road again. Scenes of picturesque forestry and wilderness passed by until the woods disappeared, and the next urbanised area dominated the landscape. It was nearing midnight when another flourish of woodland came into view. Then, the dull ache behind his eyes caused him to consider taking another break. Parked in a desolate roadside reservation, he rolled down the window to smoke while the headlights illuminated the treeline. Between his fingertips, he held a lit match. It lingered before the cigarette between his lips, but his cell phone rang before the flame had ignited the tobacco.

Without really registering the name on his cell phone’s caller ID, he answered with his customary greeting, only to hear the familiar and deep, raspy voice of his Hispanic mentor saying, “Hola, Mijo,”

“Ah, hi, Magnus.” His rich tenor sounded down the line but didn’t sound as sharp as usual because he was tired. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just checking in… Where are you now?”

“Uh, somewhere called Concord. Why?”

“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 said slightly mockingly.

Magnus had a vacation from his tireless work as the International Vampiric Governments’ Military Coordinator booked. He certainly deserved it - the organisation’s leader had been working him into the ground lately, what with the coven’s military’s special forces, The Black Winter, being sent on deployments 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 versus 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 vampiric community, but honestly, any reaction seemed like a lost cause.

Having turned off the ignition, he stepped out into the night, where the air was crisp and refreshing. While he took a moment to enjoy how the cold wrapped about the back of his neck and filled his nose to soothe the ache behind his eyes, it quickly occurred to him that even though he was on a desolate road, it was still public and there was a chance he might be seen.

A mortal reaction would’ve been to shiver and grasp one’s upper arms while complaining under one’s breath of the frigid temperature. So, from the back seat, he grabbed his woollen chesterfield overcoat and shrugged it on while awkwardly holding the cell phone to his ear with one shoulder before taking it back into his hand.

“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, “Wait, 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, Mijo. Send a car for us, won’t you? Oh, and let me know when you get to Lockwood, si? Adiós.”

“Alright. I’ll see you in two weeks.”

Once the call ended, he pushed his cell phone into his coat pocket with a heavy sigh. His lungs barely warmed the air he exhaled, but the faint grey condensation was soon joined by blue-hued smoke when he lit the cigarette he’d been waiting to have. Seven steady drags stretched the minutes he idled, lent on the side of the car, looking out towards the treeline as thoughts came and went with his breaths. It was a chilly night but not raining, at least. It seemed pleasant enough for a stroll. Perhaps a bite to drink if he happened across an unfortunate soul.

Leaf litter crunched beneath his feet, ferns brisked his calves, and his footfalls' steady, trudging rhythm marked the passage of time. The fresh, dewy air beneath the canopy was a welcome change from the dry a/c he’d had blowing over his face all day, though there was barely a breeze to speak of. Only the distant humming flutter of moths’ wings disturbed the air.

All else around him was deathly quiet - a sign that most creatures were sleeping, save for the occasional faraway hoots of a barred owl. If he closed his eyes, he might’ve been able to home in on the unique sounds and scents of the woodland animals, but instead, he kept his eyes trained forwards, satisfied that everything was plain, simple, and in its place. There was peace to be found in the mundane scent of the musty earth and the zesty perfume that burst from the undergrowth as he tread over it. Then, he smelled water. A few metres further, he saw its source. Glistening through the tree trunks lay an expanse of water - small enough to call a pool, a pond even. Over the surface, the wind had picked up to move it in ripples toward the banks of its shore.

Out of that thin air came a sickly-sweet scent. It was intense and edging on non-mortal, yet unlike any mythical creature he’d smelled before. It was very out of place, and that alone spiked his curiosity. Light on foot, silent as he went, he became a hunter as he had many times through his long years. He traversed through the undergrowth stealthily, tracking the scent this way and that. His search was short-lived because suddenly, the scent gathered its might and became so pungent that his throat burned.

That was when he saw her. Just a glimpse before he recoiled and took cover behind a wide tree trunk. He didn’t want to reveal his position and spook the girl. Prey were always easier to catch when they were unaware, and he felt sure she hadn’t seen him, at least not yet, and she certainly wouldn’t have heard him creeping nearer.

Once he’d regained his composure, predatory instinct took over again. His breathing halted to calm his bloodlust. Against the soles of his shoes, his toes curled, ready to sprint after her, in case she intuited she was being watched and decided to flee. Now, remaining inhumanly still, he spied her from behind a pine tree. In place of his usually crystalline gaze, his thirsty and darkening eyes peered from under his brow in pursuit.

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 and meek and would’ve undoubtedly been an easy snack.

Her hunter wouldn’t have picked her out in a crowd, so it was no surprise that she regularly slipped under the radar and easily 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 or read. There she would stay until the light was too faded to see the page clearly or her pencil lead wore down so dull that there was no point carrying on. Anything to escape her parents and pretend she had a different life, even if it was for a short time.

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 she had received in her school mailbox that afternoon.

The first she’d been dreaming of her whole life. It was from 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. Still, she stalled, anticipating what it would say. Was it her ticket out of her family and into some new life as an academic? She could leave them behind and never have to look back.

Her niggling doubt always said that dreaming of becoming successful was too much. Always, she worried that she wasn’t good enough. Afterall, it was highly likely that it was a rejection letter!

Now that her thoughts had 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 anyone who would write to her on a first-name basis.

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, she pulled the letter from inside and directed her flashlight's beam over the page.

“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. Her moment of joy shattered when the unmistakable sound of a branch snapping underfoot ricocheted through the trees. Her mind begged the question; whose foot? Her breath caught. Her heart raced. Wide-eyed against the darkness, she redirected her flashlight and scoped the vicinity for the creator of the disturbance. Internally, she prayed it was just a rabbit, a raccoon, or a fox. The conclusion she had dreaded materialised instead. Out of reach of the yellow beam, a black silhouette loomed in the darkness just beyond the treeline.

A man.

Surprise stole her attention from the letter, and just like that, one door closed, and another opened as if she had subconsciously made a choice about which path she’d follow - the admissions letter fluttered to the leaf litter, never to be read in fullness.

People walked through these woods all the time, but this time was different. Usually, people passed her by without giving her a moment’s notice, but not this person. No, he was staring directly at her. Captivated and too alarmed to look away, she stared back at him. She didn’t even look down to see the snapped branch, as thick as a two-by-four, under his foot.

Out of the darkness and into the light of a gibbous moon, the stranger revealed himself to her. Her first thought was proved; he was a man - a man with a head of thick, brown hair, a stubbled chin, and wearing a black coat. Indeed, the stranger looked immaculate and expensive in his clothes, especially in the rugged wilderness. To Karou’s mind, he was the one notably out of place.

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. Her hands dropped into her lap, and his eyes flickered to the letter she’d been reading as it fell from her fingers. The timing of her solitude was altogether curious, and he wondered, what are you doing out here so late and alone?

It was gone midnight, but to make sure, he un-tucked his hand from his coat pocket and pushed back the sleeve to read the time from his wristwatch. As expected, it was gone one am and beyond a youngster’s bedtime. The chill in the air was indicative of the season, but unlike him, she didn’t seem appropriately dressed.

All the things he found intriguing seemed like the defining details of a horrific news report to her, but Concord was always known as a safe town. So however daunting this odd situation seemed, Karou quickly steadied her nerves and put on a brave face. How deadly the stranger truly was wasn’t obvious after only a few moments in his company. Having already reasoned that she was around a ten-minute walk from her home, she was growing quietly confident that she could get away if needed. Consequently, she probably wasn’t as frightened as she should’ve been. Her reaction to this stranger was diluted by how commonplace paranoia was to her. She was always on edge - anticipating something terrible might happen at any moment. Still, she believed the brave were born from conquering fear, not made by a lack of it.

Any moment now, he’ll walk away… Or so she thought, but he didn’t.

The stranger did something stranger than just stop and stare at her - he broke their silence and greeted her, “Good morning,” in an accent too southern to belong in that part of the US.

At his words, Karou’s resolve faltered. Oh God, why is he talking to me? Go on, move along. Leave me alone. Unless… Doubt was slowly creeping in until she buckled, and her optimism ran out. Unless this is it - this is everything you’ve been warned about. Don’t talk to strangers.

All the worst-case scenarios played out in the fertile imagination of the bookish girl. She imagined a search party combing through the exact spot they were in. All they’d find would be her acceptance letter, crumpled on the forest floor, stained with her ‘weird’ copper-coloured blood. A mere quirk of some ‘rare genetic disorder’ she’d been conditioned into thinking she had. Other symptoms included her migraines and alarmingly vivid dreams that would often depict ordinary day-to-day events that regularly became reality. In fact, even this moment felt familiar.

As the sense of déjà vu overcame Karou, her heart rate accelerated, and apprehension of something terrible to come caused her to reach into the pouch pocket of her sweatshirt. Though her fingers gripped the folded pocketknife she had secreted away in there, she prayed she wouldn’t have to brandish the weapon - she had next to no melee skills.

Amidst her scattered thoughts, she was still trying to piece together how the dream of this encounter had ended. Had it been sinister? Did it result in her being towed off to God knows where in someone’s trunk? Did she meet her demise? Try as she might, she couldn’t remember.

Meanwhile, the stranger waited for a response, loitering not ten yards away. While she reeled through a thousand thoughts, he contemplated 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, without realising, the girl had displayed precisely that prey behaviour and held completely still as she hoped he would just go away.

Be that as it may, scaring the girl didn’t flatter his ego. Certainly not when she seemed so pathetic in her overwhelming meekness. Since revealing himself under the moonlight, he’d also gotten a better look at her. 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 beneath the tatty sweater she wore. If it hadn’t been for the well-kept leather backpack resting at her feet and cell phone perched on her knee, he would’ve veered towards the notion that she was a homeless teenage runaway. But, despite his evaluation of her appearance, now it was her eyes that gained his attention - they were truly stunning. Even in the low light, he could see them; round and alert like a doe’s, but the colour of gun-metal; blue and glinting like buffed steel. He would never forget eyes like those.

“I- I don’t have any money,” she exclaimed, hoping that might convince him she was a waste of time if he had robbery in mind. 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.

In spite of having greeted her first, he wasn’t in a rush to instigate small talk and took a moment to consider whether he was obliged to take part in a conversation – wasn’t it courtesy to greet someone you found yourself sharing eye contact with? Furthermore, he was still deciding if she would become his midnight snack. In the end, he ventured closer and came to be stood merely a foot away with his hands tucked back into his pockets.

“It’s a good thing I don’t want your money then.” He quipped.

What do you want then? Karou bristled.

Now that he’d spoken more than a few words, she had a better impression of it. Its timbre had a rich quality, hushed, calming and charming with its subtle southern twang that honey-coated his otherwise masculine husk. She had to admit that it was inviting and gentle in contrast to the angles of his face and offset the way his brow set over his eyes, involuntarily hostile.

Yet, the closer he came, the more she sensed something very disarming about his aura – his cursed vampiric allure was working its magic without her being aware that she was its victim. Instead of putting her at ease, it made her mistrust her instinct to relax in his company. She barely put any thought into her physical reaction to his moving closer and with his hands conspicuously concealed. She revealed her penknife as a warning to stay back.

Though ignoring the knife was impossible, it was of no consequence when she held it in such a haphazard fashion. He fought an amused smirk and calmly inquired, “Aren’t you asking for trouble being out so late and alone?”

“I could say the same to you,” the girl replied, rather wittily for someone who looked as helpless as she did but once against, she amused him.

“Oh, I can take care of myself,” he stated matter-of-factly and crouched 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? 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 with absolutely no common sense.

“Here, you-…” Their eyes met as he held out the letter for her, “...-dropped this.”

Despite his submissive position as he stared up at her, it wouldn’t have been misplaced fear if she found his gaze threatening; he was an apex predator afterall, and regardless of how benign he was attempting to present himself, it was no use because, in his words, lay an 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; there would be no sense of victory in slaying such a girl. He’d stopped breathing; otherwise, he feared her mouth-watering aroma might’ve made him do something ungentlemanly - but the battle wasn’t won yet.

Staring down into his eyes, Karou didn’t feel any fear but was once again overcome with a sense of ease. In that moment of weakness, while somewhat beguiled, she supposed 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 her sweatshirt pocket.

Despite only looking away from him for a split second, she realised even faster than 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 that way, y’know?” She pointed just behind him, 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.

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.

“No, I’m not lost.” The stranger answered plainly, and slowly he rose back upright. All the while, their eye contact remained unwavering and intrusive. “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 undergrowth. Lost in his dark fantasy, 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 would 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 nonchalant. “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 potentially dangerous. Never before had she recognised any such danger. Ironically, she felt far safer out there in the woods than within the walls of her home, though that was a truth she would never dare say out loud.

For the third time that evening, he fought back a smirk. Apparently, the girl wasn’t as meek and mild as she first appeared; she was pretty feisty. Managing to keep his composure, he sniffed the air discreetly 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 dawn, but if he left, her life’s 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 mannerisms intrigued Karou - looking at him was like looking at a secret. Here was someone who was obviously ‘a somebody’, who most likely lived a life 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 and 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 sat 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 by 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 the 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 curious. So, there he was, this otherwise perfect specimen with 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 girl’s 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.”

“Hmm, that’s an... interesting name... I’ve never heard that before.” He looked pleasantly surprised.

“What’s yours?” She asked in return, and her head tilted like a curious bird.

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 he offered his hand to her, hoping 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 flip 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.

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. Still, 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 or dreamed. She was dumbfounded but supposed that so far, nothing about this man was what she expected.

So, having quickly adjusted her plan, she agreed. Karou felt a little safer knowing 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 from warning that he was dangerous. Karou supposed she could trust him enough to take her eyes off 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 if he was still there. 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 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 niggling 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 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 was engulfed by Walden woods. It was very anticlimactic, 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.