Chapter 8
Wyatt
From the second she came hightailing it out of the office, I knew she was going to be trouble.
Nobody on Earth walks with that kind of purpose who isn’t a bushel and ten of vexation.
Fallon and Caden both walk like that. Hell, I probably walk like that, but I’ve never given much thought to it before now.
When the black sedan pulls into the parking lot, I clock them, but Little Miss Has a Question doesn’t, despite knowing a whole load of shit she probably shouldn’t.
Now I’ve gotta wonder why that is and get her the hell out of here before she does more harm than good.
Two agents get out of the sedan, both dressed like agents.
Cheap suits. Ugly black ties. They look like they’ve been cast in a pre-Reformation sci-fi flick.
This is why it’s hard to take Sector seriously.
Ye Gods, she is still blathering on. “I don’t know anything about good wineries,” I say, trying to inflect some intention into my words so she’ll take a damn hint.
“What the fuck,” she screeches, throwing her hands up. “I didn’t say shit about a winery. Could you please just look at this and tell me what you think, or at least help me find an internet café—”
She’s gonna talk forever, I realize. The Sector goons haven’t looked over here yet, but they’re gonna, and I’m here loading up salt while she talks about Them.
Using the F-word and everything. My mind goes blank as I move.
Typically, I like to ask before touching anyone I don’t know, but we’ll be in a cell before anyone can snap if she keeps this up, so I compromise my morals and pin her against the truck.
This makes her mad as a hornet, and I can’t say as I blame her.
If we get out of this, I’ll apologize. To her and myself, because fuck all if she’s not the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen get so flustered.
I feel none of my usual awkwardness. Instead, my heart thumps, sticky and hot, threatening something I don’t like to think about much.
And then the agent looks our way, and that mind-bending flip my stomach was about to do stops and something near panic sets in. “Get in the truck.”
She stares up at me, eyes wide with rage. “Are you insane?”
“Get in the truck,” I whisper, slowing down my words so she’ll really take my meaning.
Finally, she seems to understand what’s happening. Seems to realize I’m not trying to kidnap her and that more is going on in this parking lot than her yammering on about aliens and Them.
“No, don’t look at them,” I hiss as she tries to crane her body around me. Trouble, trouble, all the way down. Why can’t one godsdamn woman in my life be easy? “For fuck’s sake. Just get in the truck.”
She stares up at me like she’s assessing how likely I am to murder her and then says words that send a flood of relief through me—“Okay. Fine.”—and climbs in.
By the time I get around to the driver’s side, she’s got her seatbelt buckled and she’s very casually putting her feet up on my dash, like it’s something she always does.
Both of the agents are watching us now. I hold up a hand.
It’s not like they don’t know who I am. They always know.
Hedgeriders have an uneasy truce with Sector.
They’re bastards, but we try to stay out of each other’s way as much as possible.
Some things you just can’t keep fighting, no matter how hard they are to swallow. As I open the door, I tell this slip of a woman, “This’ll be more than enough for the water softener at Burt’s. We can get lunch after, if you want.”
We have exactly one water softener in town, in Burt Markle’s gym, and we keep it going for just this purpose.
Blackbird Hollow uses a lot of salt, and though Sector doesn’t make its way through here very often, Fallon and the coven believe in being proactive.
Since we’ve been spotted, the only answer is Burt’s.
The woman nods. “Sure. But you’re making me something. No getting around it, bud.”
She waves to the Sector agents too, as I hop in, casual and cool as a cucumber. She sounds like she knows me, and not only that, like she likes me. So she does know something about what she’s doing.
I try to attribute the return of my stomach flipping to the staring agents, rather than the sweet way her words wash over me.
I wait until we’re out of the parking lot and on our way back to town before saying anything.
I reason that maybe she’d like to explain herself before I just jump in. But she doesn’t.
I can’t read her emotions, but she seems tense. Then I remember that she’s in a strange truck, with a strange man. I take a deep breath and keep my hands on the wheel where she can see them. Ten and two, just like Fallon taught me.
Best I can do now is keep my word. “Normally, I’d pull over and let you out, but you made a pretty good show of things on the way out. We do actually have to go to Burt’s and drop the salt off. But I’ll answer what questions of yours that I can.”
She nods once, but doesn’t relax. Not that I expected her to. I know what the world is like, and who the fuck knows what she’s been through. She still doesn’t say anything.
“I am sorry for the rough treatment back there. But you can’t talk about Them that way. Not in public.”
Now she moves, curiosity getting the better of her, I suppose. She angles her body toward me a little, and though she’s not exactly relaxed, some of the fear has gone out of the tension in her shoulders. “The Fae?”
“Fuck,” I swear, not caring about the presence of a lady or any other such proprieties. “Don’t just throw that word around.”
She frowns. I can feel it in the small cab of my truck. I can feel her frowning. I glance over at her, only to find that there’s so much puzzlement on her face that I nearly pull over. “You… Believe me? About the Fa—Them?”
I laugh. “’Course. Hard not to believe in something I’ve spent my whole life dealing with.” Still that look of puzzlement, now mixed with wide-eyed amazement. “But what’s all this about aliens? Surely someone who’s worked this much out doesn’t believe in that hooey.”
“That hooey?” She snorts, laughing right at me, but I don’t take a lick of offense. Something about that laugh sinks into me. It’s not mean. It’s sweet, familiar. Like she’s already woven some bit of her threads into the fabric of my life.
“Well, it is hooey,” I reply, laughing along with her. “Aliens.” Burt’s is up ahead. “This is where we’ll drop the salt for now.”
“What’s it for?” she asks. “Does this have something to do with the missing hikers?”
Shit. She’s gotta get some ground rules down right away. I don’t know why I’m considering helping her, answering even one of her godsdamn questions. I’ve lost my mind, and Fallon will have my head for this. “Look, I get that you’re in a big hurry to know what’s going on, but you could be anyone.”
Now, she appears relieved. She lets out this huge sigh as I pull into Burt’s parking lot, like she’s been holding her breath this whole time. “I told you, I’m Alice Blythe.”
“Sure,” I agree. “And you’re studying the folkloric origins of alien theories. I get it. You toe the line.”
“The line?” she asks, frowning again. She’ll give herself wrinkles frowning like that.
“The party line about Them,” I clarify. What about this isn’t she getting?
Back at the Stardust, it felt like she knew something, and now she’s more confused than ever.
She looks irked as hell, her face all twisted up.
I feel bad about making her feel bad. “Come on. Help me with the salt, and then I’ll take you back to mine and make you lunch. Answer your questions.”
Alice Blythe doesn’t answer me. Her face is still twisted into that horrible knot, and I have to assume she’s working something out for herself.
“Unless you want me to take you back to the Stardust. Happy to do that too.”
She shakes her head, but still doesn’t move. Alice is a funny little thing. Something about her oddness is endearing. Not sweet. But likable.
“Come on,” I urge her. “Moving your body’ll help you work out whatever’s going on up there.”
Alice frowns again, but she gets out of the car. We get the salt into Burt’s shed, and I throw her the keys. “Go ahead and start the truck. I’ve gotta make a quick call about my dog.”
She shrugs, but does as I ask. Cade would say it was a risk to give her the keys. Fallon would know it’s a test. If Alice is afraid of me, she’ll take my truck to get away. And truly, I don’t care about that. I don’t want her afraid, and I don’t want her feeling like she can’t trust me.
It’s possible she’s Sector. I know that.
But if she’s Sector, she’s gotta be deep in because she’s not setting off even one red flag for me.
Fallon will know, and I’ll have to test her, but before I cross any of those burning bridges, I want to see what else I can ferret out about Alice Blythe.
But I’ve got to do my due diligence first.
No getting distracted by a braid and those eyes. I walk to Burt’s back door and drop a coin from my pocket into the pay phone, dialing up Wanda. She answers on the third ring, sounding a little out of breath. “Hiya,” she says, voice bright. “Was picking pumpkins, what’s up?”
Wanda always answers the phone like she knows who it is already, and maybe she does, but I identify myself anyway. “It’s Wyatt. Sector’s in town. Saw me at the Stardust loading salt, so I dropped it at Burt’s.”
“Got it,” she replies. “I’ll activate the phone tree. On about your business, sir.”
I chuckle and hang up, waving to Burt, who’s come to the back door of the gym. He stares long and hard at my truck, appraising the newcomer inside. In about an hour, the whole town’s gonna know about Alice. In under three minutes, Fallon’s gonna know.
I have maybe thirty minutes before she intervenes. More if she and Fern are still out. Less if they’re having lunch. I raise a hand to Burt and get back in the truck.