If the subject had been anything else, he’d have been charmed by her excited curiosity. But he’d suffered under the goddess’s gift for too long. “They’re real enough when they manifest,” he said in a monotone that didn’t invite further discussion.
She remained silent for a few miles. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I ask too many questions.”
Dragan regretted his reaction. She’d been the only light in his life after millennia of darkness. She’d risked her life to help him escape Sotiris, and continued to do so. What right did he have to demand she shutter the spark of inquisitiveness that made her who she was? “No,” he said. “I apologize. Curiosity is a true blessing. Without it, humans—and the rest of us—would still be crawling in the slime.”
She scoffed lightly. “You’re just as human as I am, Dragan. You’re just the new and improved version.”
“And vampires?”
“They were born human. And so were you. It’s not your fault the goddess picked you to bless.”
He regarded her for a long moment, until she glanced over at him, seeming discomfited by the attention. “You are one of a kind, sweet Mae.”
She laughed nervously, and he could see the flush on her cheeks in the light from the dashboard.
“So where are we headed?” he asked, thinking by now they both wanted to change the conversation.
She straightened in her seat and drew in a long breath. “I figure. . . . “She glanced at one of the readouts behind the steering wheel. “Another fifty miles or so. There’s a bigger town there. Not quite a city, but big enough to have more than one motel. I’m using cash for everything, by the way, so don’t worry about them tracking us. Did I tell you that already? It’s another lesson from my grandfather. He lived through the Great Depression. . . . Which means nothing to you. Anyway, he said I should keep a stash of gold, but . . . that’s not terribly practical. So I always have cash. I figure it’s a good second choice.” She glanced over. “Does that make sense?”
He smiled slightly. “It does.” They traveled another few miles before he said, “What happened tonight, though . . . it reinforces the fact that I need to drive more.”
“What? Why? I’m a good driver.”
Her response was so indignant, that he smiled again. Something he seemed to do often with Maeve. “I assume you’re an excellent driver. I don’t have a comparison. But that’s not the point. What if you’d been wounded? Who would have driven you to safety?”
She made a face, wrinkling her nose and pinching her lips, as if she’d tasted something unpleasant. “You make a good point,” she grumbled finally. “All right. You can drive part of the way tomorrow. If the road is wide open. And not in any cities or towns. Okay?” She turned a glare on him, but after he’d nodded his agreement, and her attention returned to the road, she was smiling.
Which was all Dragan cared about as they traveled on through the night.
DRAGAN WAITED IN the vehicle again, as Maeve checked them into a single-story motel. It had two wings of rooms set directly on the parking lot, with one to either side of a brightly lit office. Three cars were already parked in front of different rooms, widely spaced down the lot. Their assigned room was at the very end, with an empty field to one side and two empty rooms to the other. It was smaller than the previous night’s accommodation, but it seemed clean enough, and it matched their simple requirement of two beds and a bathroom.
“Shower,” Maeve said, dropping her small suitcase on the low dresser and falling back onto the farther bed. “I take that back. Food first, then shower.”
She sat up as he set the big suitcase on the floor, and then his sword next to her bag on the small table. No more leaving the blade out of reach, he thought. They’d been lucky with the vampires at the gas station, but he’d fought too many battles to believe luck would be enough in the future.
“I didn’t see anything open, except the coffee shop. No junk food,” she added.
He turned to look at her, surprised at the mournful note in her voice. “Junk food? Isn’t junk a bad thing?”
“Yeah,” she admitted. “But sometimes junk food hits the spot.” She glanced up. “Sorry. ‘Junk food’ is what we call those burgers, like we had on the first day. It’s not the most nutritious meal, and supposedly it’s not good for you, but it tastes great.”
He nodded. “I liked them,” he commented. “If you’re tired, I can walk to the coffee shop for you. You’ll have to tell me what to order, though.”
Her smile was bright when she said, “I think we’ll walk together. Small towns can be dangerous, and you need someone to protect you.” She looked around the room. “There’s probably a flyer or a menu . . .” She spoke slowly, dragging out the last word, as she stood and walked over to a plastic rack of folded papers. “Ah ha. Here we go. I’ll call in the order now. By the time we get there, it should be ready.”
An hour later, Dragan finished the last of his coffee shop burger and had to admit it was better than the “junk food” version. Maeve had seemed surprised at the quality of the food, so perhaps she agreed. She’d finished eating already—having ordered less food for herself, since she was half his size—and was already in the shower.
He crumpled up the bits of paper from his dinner and shoved them into the plastic bag, along with hers from earlier, then rolled the bag tightly closed and placed it in the too-small trash can. He’d laid back on the bed, arms braced behind his head in thought, when he heard the water turn off in the bathroom. Wet footsteps on the tile told him Maeve had climbed from the tub, and suddenly his thoughts filled with images of how she’d look, all fresh and clean from the shower—the rosy hue of her warmed skin, the softness of it against the towel. He shook his head, deliberating putting those thoughts aside, and reminding himself how young she was, how clean and fresh her soul. And how he’d promised himself he’d wait until she was ready, if ever, for the likes of him.
Pushing himself farther up on the bed, he leaned against the narrow headboard, and closed his eyes once more. He’d shower once Maeve was finished. He found he quite enjoyed showers, and especially the seemingly endless supply of hot water. Perhaps, if he stayed in there long enough, if he washed thoroughly enough, he could avoid the dreams that had always plagued him after a battle. Not that he’d ever thought his efforts were unjustified, or that he’d killed for no reason. No, it was the way he killed, the monster he turned into in order to triumph. The same monster he’d become today. But the vampires he’d slain were no better. There’d been no doubt of their plans for Maeve, and the vampires of his time could be cruel, toying with their victims and killing them slowly, painfully. He doubted the ones in this world were any different. Their attack on Maeve had been both brutal and unwarranted.