45. Vani
45
VANI
I blink open my eyes.
Stars pinprick the dark sky overhead, and the only light is from the thin sliver of moon. A frog croaks somewhere nearby, and an owl in the trees replies with a screech.
Where the hell am I? For a few painful breaths, I simply stay still, confusion and fogginess making it hard to think, but then the memories flood back in. I fell off my bike.
Fuck.
My bike’s engine has shut off because I can’t hear it, and so have the headlight because it is pitch black. I’m lying in the middle of the road, the asphalt rough beneath me, and all around me is night.
Everything hurts, but the left side of my body is the worst. It took the brunt when I came off the bike, and I wasn’t wearing any protective leathers. I should be grateful I haven’t cracked my skull open. Have I broken anything? Carefully, I wiggle my fingers and toes. Everything still seems to be working, though I don’t dare sit up. What if I’ve got a spinal injury and movement paralyses me?
A shadow looms over me, deepening the darkness, and I flinch.
My stomach drops and terror grips my throat. I’m not alone out here in the dense darkness and silence.
Someone is standing over me.
I draw in a breath of shock. Though it’s hard to see, in the pale moonlight the figure is distinctly male, with their height and the breadth of their shoulders. My fear starts to recede as I try to be logical about this. They must have been driving down the road and spotted me and pulled over to help, though I can’t see any headlights of a car, or even see one parked nearby.
“Help,” I manage to say, though my voice is weak. “Please, help me.”
The person just stands there, staring at me. I can’t make out their face, but it isn’t Zane. I can sense as much. This person’s presence is entirely different. The comfort recedes, and a frisson of fresh fear runs through me.
“Please,” I say again.
Still, they don’t move.
It occurs to me that I might be in more danger now than I was lying unconscious in the middle of the road in the dark. Who is this strange man, and what does he want? I try to push myself to sitting, but a fresh jolt of pain shoots down my neck. Fuck. That wasn’t good.
I try again. “Call nine-one-one. I need an ambulance.”
Instead, the stranger reaches for me. Hands grip my shoulders, and I shake my head. He can’t move me. “No,” I manage to say as I try to move, the pain at doing so ripping through me.
“Stop fighting me,” he growls.
“Call an ambulance,” I repeat.
“Shush,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with something strange. “I’m taking you home.”
I open my mouth and scream.