HUNTED

Chapter 8

Eyebrows arched in curiosity, Nate pulled his truck up the dirt driveway in front of a ten story hotel building just outside Alexandria that looked as if it had been abandoned mid-construction. Scaffolding climbed up the side of one wall like a decaying skeleton. All the windows were dark, some with smashed in panes, all covered in a thin layer of grime. The hotel’s name was torn away from the coming soon sign. The building had been unceremoniously dumped.

            It had stopped raining on Nate’s drive over. The storm left puddles everywhere, turning the dried dirt road into a marsh of mud and brown yard long puddles that reflected the glare of the setting sun. Though the clouds in the sky had separated to reveal a watercolor sky, they remained over Nate’s head; a churning tempest of emotion. The ride over to the hotel consisted of sulking and slamming on the steering wheel and dashboard. Several times, however, since arriving, he had called Liza to apologize. Though he checked his phone compulsively over the last half hour, he had not gotten so much as a “read” icon beneath his sent texts and had not heard anything from Liza.

            The roar of Thatcher’s Jeep over the bumpy dirt and dead grass road called Nate’s attention. Heaving himself into the back bed of his truck, Nate pulled a belt around his waist and shoved various knives into the loops. He stepped on another leather belt; Thatcher’s left behind from the night he was bitten. Thatcher jumped out from his Jeep and brushed some dirt from its silver finish absently.

            “Hey, Thatcher.” Nate called.

            He looked up, eyebrow raised. It took Nate a minute to again remember the brilliance of the other boy’s eye color. “Hey. You look upset. You okay?” Thatcher asked, slamming his car door closed.

            “Oh,” Nate scratched the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, Liza and I got in a fight.”

            “Ah, a fight you say.” Thatcher chuckled. “Don’t worry, she’s stubborn but she usually comes around. Is she home alone?”

            “Her protection was kind of what we were fighting about. There was no way she was going to tag along. But she’s safe, there were vans behind us.” He lifted Thatcher’s belt into the air. “Do you need this?”

            Thatcher shook his head and raised his hands from his pockets. His nails elongated into sharp claws. “I figured out how to use these.” He said, voice slightly muffled around the sound of his teeth which too had elongated to a point.

            “Alright then.” Nate dropped the belt back down with a clang. Thatcher watched a little sadly, but said nothing of it.

            “Ready? Where’s Addison?”

            “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe she’s already—something’s wrong.” Thatcher said, his eyes sparking. In a lupine-like gesture that again shocked Nate, the other boy’s nose twitched and he tilted his chin toward the sky, nostrils flaring.

            Nate settled his sword between his shoulder blades and swung himself from the truck bed, landing with a light thud that sent a barely noticeable shudder of pain up his shins. Curiously he watched Thatcher as he took cautious steps toward the hotel.