Valek #2
I take the exit and the road narrows immediately, asphalt crumbling at the edges where the forest is taking over enough to turn the two-lane road into a one-lane death trap. Dense pine presses in from both sides, branches scraping the roof of Wraith's SUV.
Hope he has good insurance.
"Welcome to Cedarbrook," Ivy murmurs from the back seat.
"Did I take the wrong exit?" I ask dryly.
"Nope."
Delightful.
A deer stands in the middle of the road up ahead of us, staring at the SUV with the hollow indifference of an animal that hasn't seen many vehicles.
I honk.
She blinks.
I honk again.
She takes three leisurely steps to the shoulder and pauses to chew something. She shits, ignoring us as we pass, other than the flick of an ear.
The trees thin eventually, giving way to a foggy stretch of road lined with weathered buildings. There's no cell tower visible. One road in, same road out. If something went wrong here, you'd have to save yourself or not be saved at all.
I glance in the mirror.
Wraith is watching the fog through the window with the tired, somber expression of someone who recognizes every shadow.
This is where he grew up. Where he was abused and tortured.
This town looks like it wouldn't even notice.
I would know.
"Turn right at the church," Ivy says, leaning forward to be my second pair of eyes on the GPS.
Church is a generous word for the crumbling white shell. I turn right and the motel materializes from the fog. There's a pickup truck with no bed parked out front and a rusted-out sedan mounted on cinder blocks.
I pull in and kill the engine, craning my neck to examine the exterior through the windshield. The place is falling apart. Doors that were once green have turned gray from weather and lack of cleaning. Duct tape has been thoroughly abused. A few windows sport poorly patched bullet holes.
Behind me, Wraith shifts. He's more alert now that we've stopped. His blue eyes flick over the lot with weary recognition.
"Stay here," I tell them, reaching back to grab my bag from the backseat floor between Wraith and Ivy. "I'll get the room. One you can walk up to without going inside."
I climb out and hit the lock on the keyfob just in case, even though Wraith could pull anyone apart without breaking a sweat in spite of his condition. He manages an irritated growl that I've locked him in, and I dangle the keys from my fingers with a little grin to keep him on his toes.
To keep him awake, specifically.
The reception area reeks of cheap cigarettes, and I zero in right away on the source, a tall older beta behind the counter with wild white hair and a cigarette dangling from his lips. He's watching a noisy sex tape on his phone.
I can already tell he's going to love me.
"Good afternoon," I say, smiling as I step up to the desk, because everyone deserves a chance.
He lifts his head with a jolt at my accent and narrows his eyes at me. "You checkin' in?" he asks with the same suspicion I receive in all shitty towns with a population less than two hundred.
Oh well. I tried.
"One room, the biggest bed you have. Exterior entrance," I say flatly.
He studies me. "Cash or card?"
I peel bills from the roll I keep in my leather jacket. The clerk counts them with agonizing slowness, licking his thumb between each bill, his eyes flicking to me now and then.
He hands me a key with a thick red plastic fob marked with a 66.
"Checkout's at eleven," he says. "Ice machine's busted. Don't use the hot water after 8 PM. Pipes bang. I'll kick your ass out faster than you can blink."
"Noted. Don't bother us."
I take the key and leave before he can share any more of Cedarbrook's hospitality.
The door sticks. I shoulder it open and the troubling stench hits me first. I pull the collar of my shirt up over my nose and hit the switch. The lightbulb in the shadeless lamp on the nightstand flickers to life, agonizingly bright.
The room is pathetically small. The king-sized bed takes up the whole thing, really, save for a crumbling dresser and an upholstered chair by the foot of the bed with the same hideous gold-and-red geometric pattern as the duvet and pillowcases, and the brown shade of the carpet suggests it might have been blue once.
I set my bag on the dresser and send Ivy a quick text.
VALEK
Come up to room 66. It's clear.
IVY
Thanks Val
I text the group chat, too, because Ivy was apparently too stressed to remember there are three other alphas worrying about her at home.
The door creaks open behind me a few minutes later.
Ivy enters first, Wraith ducking through the frame after her, his hood pulled up and his face gaiter secured. This isn't one of the loose ones, and I can tell from the way he's moving that he's suffering. He straightens slowly, and his head nearly brushes the ceiling.
They both stop and stare at me.
Can't blame them, really. I'm crouched beside the armchair with my UV light, sweeping the beam across the upholstery.
Everything's lighting up.
"Oh my gods," Ivy groans.
"It's worse than it looks," I say brightly, angling the light toward the armrest. "And it looks disgusting."
"Is that a UV light?"
"Don't."
"No wonder Plague likes you so much."
I snort, clicking the UV light off. "I think Plague more than likes me."
"Fair."
Wraith makes a low sound that might actually be a laugh, his stiff posture loosening slightly.
Ivy grabs the SUV keys from the dresser where I set them. "Okay. We're heading to the clinic. We'll be back in a few hours."
I straighten up and cross to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before leaning down and pressing my lips to her forehead.
"Be good," I tell her.
She tilts her face up to kiss me. "Always."
I look past her to Wraith. "Keep her safe."
He manages a thumbs-up, his blue eyes tired but steady.
They disappear, Ivy pulling the door closed carefully behind them.
It still bangs.
I pull out my phone, aim the UV light at the enormous splatter on the chair one more time, and snap a photo that will make Plague spontaneously combust.
VALEK
The cuck chair, gentlemen.
Trust me, you're not missing a thing.