Chapter 8 Off to an Adventure
Off to an Adventure
Lucien ran like the fucking wind.
With me draped over his shoulder as though I weighed nothing, and him bleeding through the shirt so much that the fabric was quickly soaked, Lucien passed through the streets of North Hollywood as though his life depended on it.
And, considering the way he’d knocked Chase unconscious, his life did seem to depend on it.
While he ran without taking a break, it took everything in me to simply breathe, what with his shoulder digging into my stomach. But I didn’t dare complain, so I bit my lip hard to stifle any grunt of pain I might’ve uttered. Lucien needed to get us to safety.
After what felt like hours later, Lucien finally came to a stop somewhere in Glendale, which was a city in the LA area southeast of North Hollywood. I only knew it was Glendale because I could see the Museum of Neon Art from the playground he’d stopped at.
He gently slid me down to the ground, his hands on my hips until I was steady on my feet. I ignored the way his touch made me tense and instead looked up at his face. He was wearing a grim expression as he stared back.
“I have questions,” I told him matter-of-factly.
“I imagined you would,” he drawled back.
“But before then, I need to bandage your wound again,” I said, motioning for him to sit down on the nearby bench.
Lucien’s lips quirked as he followed my silent order and sat down, back to me. I settled next to him and pushed up his shirt, revealing the injury that refused to heal.
After I’d unwrapped the wound and cleaned the excesses of dead tissues and dry blood, I took out the bandages I’d packed in my duffel bag. Then, as gently as I could, I wrapped the bandage roll around his torso before tying it together so it would hold.
“Done,” I said, moving back.
Lucien turned to face me, his beautiful eyes almost luminous in the night. “Why do you take so much interest in the supernatural?” he asked suddenly, repeating his question from before.
I wanted to look away and avoid the question.
But after everything that happened with Chase—his threat to wipe my memories of the supernatural and the fact he was an agent for some supernatural organization assigned to keep an eye on me, if I understood everything correctly—I knew I had to tell him.
“Eight years ago,” I said softly, staring down at my hands, “I witnessed an event involving the supernatural. That event changed my life.”
This much was true. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him that the result of that event was my two sisters being killed.
When Lucien didn’t speak, I raised my gaze to meet his. He studied me with a contemplative look on his face. Flushing, I couldn’t stand his silence any longer and said, “Now it’s your turn to explain.”
He nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “As you probably guessed, my kind—not just werewolves, but other races as well—live in secret and in hiding from the human world.”
I jerked my head in affirmation.
Lucien’s expression grew dark. “There are people in our society, however, who do not believe living in secret is right. Who think that we need to step into the spotlight and reveal ourselves to humans.”
His words made my heart skip a beat. “Why do you even hide yourselves in the first place, then?”
Lucien smiled humorlessly. “There are many theories as to why that is,” he said. “According to our history books, a few thousand years ago, we lived alongside humans peacefully. Humans had worshipped us, turned us into gods. Until the Mycenaeans rose to power.”
“Are you talking about that Greek civilization from almost two thousand years BCE?” I inquired, brows arched.
He nodded. “The Mycenaeans liked us the most of all others. They recorded in writing the initial scripts detailing our escapades and powers, in what would become the Greek mythology. But the Mycenaeans had many enemies due to their rise in power and territorial disputes, and those enemies saw us as the key to the Mycenaeans’ destruction. ”
Lucien let out a sigh. “Long story short, from being adored and worshipped, we turned into pawns in the wars between the Mycenaeans and their enemies. We were manipulated and used, brainwashed into sacrificing ourselves for the humans’ sake, until our numbers dwindled and our leaders back then refused to remain pawns in wars that had nothing to do with them. ”
“And so they went into hiding,” I summed it up, scowling. “How very human it is to take your object of worship and turn it into a weapon to be used and discarded like trash right after.”
He smirked, though his eyes were bleak. “You would be surprised that humans aren’t the only ones who use those kinds of tactics for their own gain. My kind had learned from the best, and perfected those strategies to a fault.”
That made me feel heavy. “So why do some of you want to expose yourselves to humans again, after thousands of years of successfully hiding in plain sight?” I couldn’t imagine a reason for them to want such a thing.
Lucien looked away. “Times have changed,” he replied quietly.
His voice was a little off, bitter almost. I watched him, pondering his words, and going back to his conversation with Chase.
“I have always hated how righteous you and the rest of those who work for the Council are,” Lucien had said.
While I didn’t know what exactly the Council was, I deduced it was some sort of a ruling body for the supernatural and that Chase was working for it. And if Chase, who worked for this Council Lucien hated so much, needed to erase my memories to keep his kind a secret . . .
That, along with the fact Lucien had seemed extremely unfazed about revealing his true nature to me—even willing to do so, to some extent . . .
“You want to expose the supernatural,” I concluded, eyes wide.
Lucien grinned a little, though it was tinged with bitterness. “Yeah,” he said, glancing at me. “And I’m not the only one. There are many of us out there who believe it’s high time we stopped hiding.”
I wanted to ask him why. But before I could, he turned fully to me and said, “Can you bring me your phone? I need to make a few calls.”
I dug out my phone from my bag and handed it over to him. He rose to his feet as he dialed a number and pressed the phone to his ear, turning his back to me as he headed to the playground’s swings.
As he talked on the phone, far enough away so I could barely hear the rumble of his murmurs, I watched him, feeling my curiosity, and also fear, boiling under my skin.
It wasn’t a lie when I told Chase I kept writing for The Hallowing Hour to grab the attention of the supernatural and draw them out.
I wanted to find answers about what happened to my sisters all those years ago.
To understand what kind of monster I had encountered.
Why there was a shadow mark at that scene.
And why only I was spared.
Chase wanted to take this away from me. To erase my memories of the supernatural and turn me back into the clueless seventeen-year-old Drew. And he would’ve succeeded if Lucien hadn’t been against it.
It was only now that everything began to sink in, after this long, hectic day of finding out the wolf I’d saved and bandaged was actually a gorgeous werewolf; that my neighbor, whom I’d considered a friend, was actually a sorcerer secret agent sent to keep an eye on me; and that I was suddenly involved in some sort of a supernatural power struggle.
A lot had happened, and I was suddenly exhausted.
After ten minutes or so, Lucien came back and handed me my phone. “Thanks,” he said, grabbing my duffel bag before I could protest. “Let’s head to the road. The car should be there soon.”
“Car?” I asked, following him, debating whether I should tell him he didn’t have to carry my bag for me, especially with his injury.
He swung the bag over his shoulder, where I’d been not long ago, and said, “Yeah, we need to go. We can’t stay in the city now that I attacked a Council agent.”
Startled, I snapped my gaze to him. “Me too?”
We stopped at the side of the road, and he frowned at me. “Of course you too. Unless you want to have your memories erased?” He arched a brow.
I shook my head immediately as my heart kicked into overdrive. I wanted to ask where we were going, but then I remembered my bag was heavy and pressing against his shirt-clad, recently opened wound. “I can carry my bag, you know,” I said, worried he would start bleeding again.
He shot me a confused look. “I know you can.”
I scowled. “I meant, give me my bag.”
He cocked his head, the same way his wolf form did, as though he didn’t understand what I was saying. “Your bag weighs nothing.”
Folding my arms, I gritted my teeth and said, “For you, it might not feel heavy, but it’s still fully packed, and it presses against your wound.”
To my surprise, he suddenly grinned, a twinkle entering his eyes. “You’re quite the worrywart, aren’t you?”
My cheeks heated under his gaze, which did things to me I refused to acknowledge.
“Your wound is refusing to heal,” I insisted, ignoring my far-too-visceral reaction to him.
“You can barely lean against a seat without it opening, and yet you’re willingly pressing a heavy bag against it. Are you trying to kill yourself?”
His grin disappeared, and he looked away. “I’m fine,” he said flatly.
It felt like he’d suddenly erected a wall between us, and it made my heart sink.
“Lucien,” I said softly, letting my arms fall and taking a step toward him, “I am worried. I always thought the supernatural had better healing abilities than humans, but it seems to be a lie, and your adamant refusal to admit it is going to make you bleed to death.”
His face darkened, and he turned to me, opening his mouth.
But before Lucien could reply, a car horn cut through the air like an annoyingly loud trumpet.
Cursing internally at the interruption, I would’ve attempted to ignore it if Lucien hadn’t turned toward the road, where a car came to a screeching stop right next to us.
And for the thousandth time today, I was absolutely dumbstruck.