6. So close, yet so far
SO CLOSE, YET SO FAR
Ro
There’s a manic grin on my face. It’s the main reason I didn’t take my helmet off when I went inside the gas station.
I could tell Alorra was on edge as soon as I pulled into the spot across from her.
Her shoulders were up by her ears, and I was afraid her grip was going to break the pump.
I don’t want her to be afraid of me, but I can’t deny that the demon loves the chase.
The glare she shot me when I tried to put her at ease was adorable, although I think she was trying to put me off.
I shrug, whistling as I walk back out of the store.
It’s hard to whistle with a helmet on, but I manage well enough.
I snagged some peach rings and watched through the window as she took off into the night, the headlight from her solid black bike spearing the darkness in front of her.
I don’t mind if she has a head start. I’ll catch up soon enough.
There’s an undeniable bounce to my step as I skip over to my bike—black with purple accents—and tear out of the lot after her.
It doesn’t take long before I see her tail light ahead of me.
I turn my lights off, not caring even a tiny bit how dangerous it is.
I don’t want to scare her off again, and I doubt she can hear my bike over the sound of her own.
It’s so dark out that as I get closer, her braided silver hair reflects the light of the moon and stars as it whips behind her. It’s like a beacon, a falling star I’d follow to the ends of the earth, if only it would grant my one wish of catching her.
It takes me by surprise when she veers into a hard turn down a dirt road.
A cloud of dust billows in her wake, obscuring my view of her and the road.
I scramble to adjust my speed and maintain control as I follow her.
This woman just keeps getting more and more interesting.
I’ve never been out this way before, and I wonder where she’s taking us.
Does she have an isolated cabin out here?
Maybe she likes camping. Or what if she’s involved in something nefarious?
The demon inside me perks up, liking the sounds of that one. It feels like a pinwheel rolling down my back, prickles of anxious anticipation raising goosebumps on my skin and tripping my heart.
She pulls off into what looks like a small canyon, the landscape out of place in an area surrounded by farm fields. I park my bike out of sight and try to follow her as quietly as I can, crouched low behind boulders and a rim of fresh turned earth as I skirt around the outside of it.
I cringe at the sensation of my inner demon purring in my chest, unreasonably pleased to be doing something this unlawful and unethical.
It’s confusing, because the happier my demon is, the more shame I feel.
Succumbing to my demonic instincts means I’m not on the path toward being a good person.
And if I’m not a good person, there’s only one other thing I can be.
It’s better than setting fires or stealing things. At least this way I’m not hurting anyone.
I’d never hurt Alorra, I’m simply fascinated by her. I’m sure there’s some explanation for why, I just haven’t found it yet.
On all fours, I slowly creep up the ridge of dirt, choosing a path further down from where she did in case she comes back that way.
The earth is cool beneath my hands, the warmth from the sun having leeched out hours ago, and I wince when my knee lands on a sharp rock.
None of it deters me—the dirt or the rocks or the darkness or the cold—and when I reach the top, I peek over it to see her climbing down the other side.
She hops from boulder to boulder, then slides down a few feet of loose dirt with one foot in front of the other, her arms out for balance. I think I have hearts in my eyes. I had no idea she was so athletic, and her silhouette in that tight leather riding gear… Well, it’s doing something to me.
I settle into a nook on the top edge of what I’m now noticing is a perfectly round canyon.
My eyebrows draw together as I take it in.
It looks like an impact site of some sort, but I can’t see well enough to tell what might be in the middle.
Alorra jogs to a central point and crouches, then touches one hand to her chest. She stays in that position for long moments, long enough that I start to become concerned.
My inner demon goes on alert, his hackles rising at the thought of something being wrong. Is she okay? Is there something bad, tragic, horrifying there that she can’t handle? Does this spot mean something to her? Is she having a heart attack or a seizure or something?
I’m about to leap over the edge and sprint to her rescue when she moves again.
I duck back down, peering into the dark as she slings the bag off her shoulder and unrolls something.
Then she pulls out what must be a shovel, because that’s the only thing that makes sense based on the movements I can see.
She’s shoveling dirt and scooping rocks into the cloth bag she unrolled.
I shake my head. Maybe I’m not the only one here who is mentally unwell, but who am I to judge?
I let out a quiet snort, then carefully pick my way along the unstable rim to try to get a better look at what she’s doing.
I drop to the ground again when she stands and turns, her face angled to the ground as she seems to search for something.
When she doesn’t find it, she places her hand on her chest again and turns her face up to the sky, then starts walking.
Without watching where she’s going—while in a canyon full of loose rocks and dirt and boulders.
Okay yeah, this woman is definitely not well.
I’m about to run to her rescue—again—when she halts in place and drops to a crouch—again.
This woman is absolutely confounding, and the more I watch, the more I want to know.
What could she possibly be collecting? I would guess maybe bits of meteorite, given we’re at an impact site and she’s picking up rocks, but how can she tell with it being so dark?
Maybe she’s a witch? And the weird movements…
Is she performing some sort of ritual, or casting a spell?
I know nothing about witches, but it seems the most likely guess.
Alorra repeats this process a number of times.
Standing, walking with her eyes closed and face to the sky, following some unseen, unfathomable path before collecting more dirt and rocks into her bag.
It has to be getting heavy, but she doesn’t stop for what must be close to an hour.
Long enough that my legs are cramping and my brain has run through every increasingly far-fetched scenario I can possibly think of for what she might be up to.
When she finally ties the bag closed and puts away her tools, I breathe a sigh of relief.
But then she turns toward me, and I realize I moved into the path she took to get down there in the first place, despite having tried to avoid exactly that.
My eyes flare wide while my inner demon feels like it’s pulling me in two directions.
One side wants to confront her, the other wants to hide so I can keep following her, and then there’s what I want which is to just not get caught.
Shit, shit, shit.
My head whips around, looking for an easy hiding spot, but there’s only bare earth on this side. I can’t stand or she’ll see me, so I scramble on my hands and knees, wincing with each sharp rock and stick that stabs my kneecaps, until I’m far enough down the outside of the rim to stand.
Of course, as soon as I do, my legs cramp and my feet slide out from under me. I tumble down the hill and a shrill, involuntary shriek of alarm splits the quiet night. Then I land hard on my back and the breath is punched from my lungs.
Shit on a witch’s stick.
I wheeze, trying to draw in air but not succeeding. The stars spin above me and I don’t feel real, like maybe my body isn’t on this plane anymore. Even my brain stops working for an endless moment as the universe pauses, admiring my monumental fuck-up.
Next thing I know, there’s a flashlight beam blinding me as Alorra crests the ridge and picks her way down the other side.
I try to sit up, but grimace when my entire body feels like one massive bruise, so instead I lay there and wait.
She steps gracefully over the loose rocks around me until her booted feet stop next to my head.
Scary, sexy booted feet.
I raise a hand to block the light from my eyes and attempt to look up at her, but all I can see is a glint of metal from her other hand. I wouldn’t blame her for stabbing me, but I really like this shirt, so I hope she doesn’t. Maybe it’s the shovel she was using earlier?
“Hey!” I say, donning my most charming grin. The one that always gets me laid and will hopefully get me out of this situation with minimal damage.
I hold both hands up in a surrender pose as I struggle to my knees, my back screaming when I straighten it. She brandishes what I can now see is definitely a knife.
“Don’t move,” she hisses.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy there, spitfire.” I freeze, not moving a muscle as I regain feeling in my extremities.
Tension crackles through the air between us, and it feels like even the wind is holding its breath, waiting to see what she’ll do. I’d prefer to be on my knees for her for a different reason, but this really isn’t so terrible.
Only… She doesn’t do anything.
I wince, now feeling too much as my knees protest the hard, uneven ground beneath them.
“Could you maybe not point your flashlight directly at my eyes?” I say, waving one hand a few inches in the hopes she’ll direct it elsewhere before I’m too blinded to drive home.
She doesn’t so much as twitch for an eternity, but eventually she lowers the light, angling it at the dirt instead of my face. I blink, then close my eyes for a few moments, my head spinning and eyes smarting with the afterimage before I blink again and my sight starts to readjust.
“Wait,” she says, some of the tension loosening from her shoulders as I blink up at her. “Bartender?”
“It’s Ro, actually, but you can call me whatever you want.”
Alorra blinks at me. I still have my hands in the air, and my face is level with her bare stomach. She’s wearing a black crop top under her leather jacket. I want to lean forward and lick the pale skin peeking out at me.
“Why are you following me?” she demands. No fear, no uncertainty, just pure fire in her words. My inner demon wants to roll around in her attitude, and so do I.
My eyes flick back up to hers. They’re glaring at me, dark with defiance, and I grin.
“What was that you were digging?” My curiosity gets the better of me. It’s no longer a want, it’s a need. I need to know everything about her.
“Who are you?” she says.
“Have you always had silver hair?”
Her glare turns into an entire look, with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. She brandishes the knife and my smile cracks even wider. This is a fun game. I wonder what she’ll want to know about me next.
If I know what she wants, I can bribe her with it later.
Or… wait. I don’t think I do that anymore. Bribes and manipulation are bad. Good people don’t do bad things. So, no more manipulation? No more fires. No more stealing. Absolutely no killing. Although, I don’t think I’m in danger of any of those right now, for perhaps the first time in my life.
I’m distracting myself when there’s a perfect reason to focus right in front of me.
“You gonna use that?” I ask, angling my chin at the knife, and attempting to contain the delight fizzing through my veins.
She’s a fierce goddess standing above me.
Eyes blazing, fists clenched, loose tendrils of hair dancing in the wind.
Soft and strong at the same time, all powerful in her absolute control of this situation.
Alorra clicks her tongue, then clicks the flashlight off. She spins on her heel and stomps away, little clods of dirt rolling away from her with each step as her hair and skin seem to brighten under the sole light of the moon and stars.
I take her not stabbing me as permission to continue as I was, so I scramble to my feet, and dart after her.