Page 39 of Below the Shadow of the City

Sure enough, a massive black SUV with windows definitely past the legal tint rolls up in front of my building two hours later. I’d packed to stay for the weekend, already securing tomorrow and Friday off because I couldn’t bear to leave my mom for those few days. Her trembling voice and even the thought of losing my dad rattled me back into a child-like state. Any ambivalence I’ve ever held towards them immediately vanished when I got off the call.

I had more time to pack than I’d expected. I had stepped out of the conference room and Margo caught a glimpse of me from her desk.

“What happened?” She asked as she rushed over and pulled me aside.

“My dad had a heart attack.” It was the second time I’d said it aloud. It still felt like an impossibility. “I need to go to the hospital.”

“Go. Now. I’ll tell Ralph and HR.” Her voice was firm, and I left at her command.

Maddox is barely recognizable in the driver's seat, he has a large black hoodie pulled up over his head and dark sunglasses. Passersby across the street probably wouldn’t think twice about seeing him at a first glance. Upon a closer look, the dark fur on his face and hands, and the horns peeking from his hood are a dead giveaway that he’s very much not human. There’s a weird warmth in my core at the thought, like he’s a secret that only I get to know.

I look something not human either when I catch sight of my reflection in the passenger window. It had been a little over two hours since my mom had called, but I look like I’ve aged about a decade. My entire face is swollen and red, my eyes have remaining smudges of mascara around the lids, and my short bob is pulled back the best I could manage. I’d changed into a hoodie and leggings when I got home from work. I had picked up the sweatshirt I stole from Maddox and considered wearing it. When I held it to my chest the faintest reminders of his scent soothed me, and I shivered at the feeling crashing over me. I have to avoid this attachment, and any potential questioning from my mom when I show up. There’s zero dancing around a sweatshirt that would be easily three times my size.

Maddox had seen me roughed up and fresh in the morning, this is far worse. Hardly what someone should look like on an unofficial third date. He’s entirely unrattled, instead throwing his car into park, running onto the sidewalk and swiping my bags from my hands. Outside in the fresh air he appears utterly massive while he dwarves the skinny trees planted in the sidewalk.

“Get in,” he says with the urgency of someone carjacking me, and tosses my things into the back seat. I slide into the car and am taken aback briefly by how luxurious it is. I’d sold my first car when I moved to the city to help cover my first month of rent, and that was a beat up Honda Civic I got $800 for. This is a brand new top-of-the-line SUV with leather heated seats.

It’s a clear marker of his wealth, something I tend to forget about him. The status of the car is dwarfed by how intensely it smells like him. He’s a massive presence in the driver’s seat, and every air molecule in here smells like Maddox. He’s silent as he pulls back onto the road, glancing to make sure I’ve buckled my seatbelt.

A few moments later he thrusts his phone into my hand, “type in the address.” Goosebumps bloom on my forearms when the tips of his claws brush against my palm. I forget what I’m supposed to be doing.

After regaining my bearings, I search the hospital address and start the directions, placing his phone back on the wireless charging pad. With traffic the drive is just over an hour and a half, and I’m already tapping my foot anxiously as my fingers tremble.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to do this,” I whisper.

“I did, though,” he replies. His expression difficult to dissect from the sunglasses and hood covering a good portion of his face. He remains fixated on the road. His response seems final, and any words I try to piece together in a retort are nonsensical.

I have far too much on my mind to even begin to unpack verbally, especially when we’re trapped together for the foreseeable future. I face the street ahead as well, narrowing my eyes at the blinking brake lights of the cars in front of us as we slow in traffic.

Music fills the space between us, and I recognize a few songs from the playlist he’d given me. He hums along to the song playing quietly.

The devil on my shoulder pops up, he’s good, Sigrid. Too good for you. Dropping everything and driving you to the hospital? Surely you don’t deserve that sort of treatment.

His mouth twitches when we pull up to the hospital, sunglasses still hiding his eyes though it had grown dark now. It isn’t fair that he needs to sneak around the world like he’s some cryptid or ghost. He knows it’s not fair, yet takes it all in perfect stride.

The car lurches into park, like he’s stopped it a hair too quickly. I sit for a second then realize I’m supposed to get out and face whatever awaits me in the hospital. Quickly, I gather my purse and phone and turn to Maddox, who’d rested an elbow on the window and is rubbing his temple.

“Can I give you some gas money for the ride, at least? To drive all this way just to turn around⁠—”

He cuts me off. “I’ll stay around here.”

“B-but where will you go?” It’s the first thing I think to ask, he can’t come into the hospital with me. Monstrous form aside, he’s not family. My mom doesn’t know he exists, I can’t even begin to fathom dropping that I’m maybe, possibly seeing someone right now. And that this particular someone is a fur-covered and horned monster.

“I know some places,” he’s uncharacteristically short with me. We’d hardly spoken the entire drive. I had assumed he’d fill every bit of silence with a joke or commentary and assumed incorrectly. Aside from his humming he was solemn. Save for a quick squeeze on my thigh that he recanted immediately, it was like he was little more than a cab driver.

“I’m gonna be here a few days,” I reply meekly.

“What’s your parents’ address? At the very least I’ll pick up some groceries for them.”

“Maddox, you don’t⁠—”

“I do. Please, let me do this,” he says with a resigned exhale as he rubs his fingers on the bridge of his nose. His sunglasses pop up and I get a quick flash of his blue eyes. They’re rimmed in red.

I send him the address and he pulls off onto the street with practically screeching tires. As I stand under the carport of the hospital, I realize I didn’t have the foresight to even kiss him goodbye.

My phone buzzes as I walk into the hospital, and my fingers fumble for it hoping that it’s Maddox, though I haven’t a clue what he would even want to say to me right now that couldn’t have been said in the car.

Instead a familiar name pops up.