She had to focus on keeping her limbs moving, avoiding the dangers of the uneven terrain, until they hit a bitumen road, the new surface both alarming for its exposure and a relief for its consistency underfoot. They wove on and off of the road, taking the bitumen only when the side of the road was too thick with undergrowth for them to pass, the werewolf less happy when they were walking the black path.
They passed through the edges of the town, the houses set irregularly back from the road and surrounded by fields, all windows dark in the night. He paused occasionally and inhaled, scenting the night. “Not that one,” he muttered. “Someone’s home.”
A spill of laughter cause both of them to drop to a crouch as the moonlight was broken by darked winged shapes overhead, winging in circles, as if searching the night. For a moment, she thought they were the gargoyles, but the outlines of the bodies were not right, and the moonlight glinted off armour in the style of the winged ones. The moonlight picked out the profile of Maverick’s face as he watched them, and blew strands of his hair over his face, the threads of hair catching in his stubble.
“Like bats in the night,” Maverick commented meeting her eyes. “Do they normally fly in the night, or has something caught their interest, I wonder?”
“What would catch their interest?” She barely breathed it.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he replied. “Let’s keep to cover as much as possible. It would be best if we could find an empty house. We could have a comfortable nap, if so.”
They continued along the side of the road, pushing their way through the thick tangle of undergrowth and blackberry bushes rather than risk exposing themselves on the road.
Maverick paused again and she saw the direction of his gaze. There was a fire in the town, the glow of it orange against the black sky, and clearly showing many more winged hellions in the air, circling around it.
They were too far away to determine the source of the fire, but it did not bode well.
Maverick paused at the next and inhaled several times. “I think we might be in luck,” he decided. “Let’s go a bit closer.”
They followed a gravel driveway past small fenced off paddocks, to where a ring of pine trees shielded a house. He paused and inhaled again. “You want the good news, or the bad news?” He asked her.
“I don’t know,” she was frozen and exhausted and ready to collapse.
“Well, the good news is that the house has no living occupants,” he said. “The bad news is that the owners died in that garage over there,” he pointed to a free-standing galvanized shed. “I am guessing suicide in a car, because the smell is very, very faint.”
“F-k,” she muttered. “That is horrible.”
“Yeah, not nice. But at least they won’t mind if we borrow their house for the night,” he added optimistically and crossed the overgrown lawn to the front porch. “Door is locked,” he complained. “I thought country people left their houses unlocked.”
“I think country people leave their back doors unlocked and don’t use the front,” she replied.
“Oh, yeah, that sounds right,” he agreed. They skirted the house, and found the back door locked. “Honestly,” he grumbled. “Who locks up before they go and gas their family in the garage?”
“What?” She looked at him in startled alarm.
“Nothing,” he said hastily. “I will try a few windows, you stay here.”
“How do you know it was a family?” She whispered.
“Kids bikes against the side of the house. Don’t think about it,” he added firmly. “There is nothing we can do to change what has already been done.” He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “I am sorry I mentioned it.”
“Perhaps they weren’t here,” she murmured. “Perhaps it was one of the adults, or a stranger even.”
“Perhaps,” he said, but his tone was far from sincere. “I will check the windows.”
She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, thinking of her gargoyles and Charon and trying not to picture the faces of the children that had lived in this house. How desperately hopeless the parents must have thought this world to do such a thing, she thought.
There was a noise inside and she wasn’t surprised when Maverick opened the door after a moment. He guided her into a very dark house, all the windows and blinds closed against the night.
“Let your eyes adjust,” he recommended. “Before you try to move around too much. We are in the back room of the house, a sort of lounge area where the veranda has been built in. There is a laundry just next to you, with a toilet. Let me check to see if there’s any running water before you do anything more than a wee in there, or it will stink the place out.”
Her eyes were growing used to the darkness, and she could make out darker obstacles of furniture. He took her hand and led her forwards. “Small step here into the original back door of the house,” he murmured. “This would have been the back entry, but they have converted it into a teeny tiny kitchen. Bad move in my opinion. What would have been the original kitchen is ahead, it has got the original fireplace and everything, but they have made it into a dining room which is just a waste of space.”
She looked up at him, just picking out his features in the dark, in bemusement.
“What?” He shrugged ruefully. “I like houses. Especially old ones, like this. Anyway,” he pulled open the cupboard and crowed. “Yes, someone liked preserves,” he pulled out a jar and turned it between his hands. “Still sealed. Apricots, I reckon.” He set them onto the benchtop and dove back into the cupboard. “Water crackers, and some tuna. Dark chocolate. You can have that – chocolate does evil things to my stomach. Don’t make any dog jokes,” he grinned at her.
She laughed the sound more exhausted than jovial. “I need to get out of these wet clothes.”
“Yeah, me too. The master bedroom is down here. Hopefully they had good taste in clothes,” he led her through the landscape of black and grey shapes, into a generously wide hallway, and a small bedroom made smaller by the built-in closets against one wall. He opened them and began tossing clothes onto the bed. “I draw the line at wearing another man’s underwear,” he declared.
She felt through the clothing he threw her way and found a pair of sweat-pants and jumper, along with a singlet top. She stripped off her wet jeans with gratitude and without modesty although she knew that Maverick could see far more in the dark than she could. When she glanced at him, he was getting dressed with his back turned to her. She could just make out the details of an elaborate tattoo that wound its way from the back of his ribs and over his shoulder and upper arm.
“Oh god,” she moaned as she pulled on the sweatpants and tightened the string. They were a little baggier than she normally wore them, but they were blissfully dry. “Dry clothes are so good. Any socks?”
He tossed her a rolled pair and she sat on the bed to pull them on.
“We will have our little picnic,” he said as he sat to do likewise. “And then grab a couple hours of sleep. I think it is best if we skirt around this town. It will add time to our journey, but the Winged Hellions look to be having way too much fun here. I don’t want to find out what they have been up to.”
“Me either,” she agreed. “What do you think the pack is doing?” She asked.
“Right now?” He considered the question as he led the way back out into the hallway and guided her back towards the dining room that had once been a kitchen. “I would say they have got the cattle under control and have probably noticed that we’re missing.” He found plates and cutlery in the kitchen and brought them out to the table, before retrieving the can of tuna and crackers. He cracked the can and added it to the crackers, setting a plate before her. “First course. It os not a steak sandwich, but it is better than an empty stomach.
“The pack will be wondering why I took you with me and have probably traced us to the creek.” He continued as he served himself and took a bite. “I am hoping that as you have mates and the trade probably wouldn’t be going ahead, they will leave it there, and not try to follow us,” he said through a mouthful.
“Why did you take me with you?” She asked him as she took a bite. “Once you had the keys you could have just taken off without me.”
“Well,” he finished off the crackers and the tuna in quick, efficient bites whilst she was still nibbling on her first cracker. “Because that is what they would have expected me to do, and I like to do the unexpected.”
“Is that so?” She believed him and rather thought that inclination of his towards doing the unexpected might be the reason he was the pack’s maverick. “Do you have another name, other than Maverick?” She asked him as he brought out the preserved apricots and scooped some onto her plate.
“Well, my mother wasn’t that farsighted in order to name me for my position in the pack,” he replied. “You want the juice? No. Mine then,” he drank from the jar. “Oh, sugary goodness,” he said with relish. “Ryan,” he said as he set the jar to the table. “Though you might as well just call me Maverick, everyone does.”
“Ryan,” she repeated. “It is nice to meet you, Ryan.”