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It seemed like a sign to him, so he went for it and started running, tearing into the dense forest while keeping his eyes on the light. He ran for what seemed like miles, scratching his hands and face on the branches and thickets, and finally, there it was.
The light turned out to be a streetlight in front of a bus stop. The bus was there when he cleared the trees and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He did not hesitate in getting on board. It was free local transport, and he had no idea where in this town he was headed. He was just glad to have the opportunity to rest for a few minutes and hopefully disappear.
After about fifteen minutes, the bus stopped downtown Eastport; Nash got off, looking around and wondering about his next move. He looked a little rough with the cuts on his face and hands, but he kept his head down and his hands in his pockets. He was about a block away from the Indigo Hotel, which looked to be a high-end establishment. Beyond that were shops and office buildings. He was at a loss as to what to do.
As he was passing the Indigo, several men came out of the service entrance and left the door propped open. No one was around, so he ducked inside and went quickly down the flight of stairs to what looked like a large storeroom.
He could hide here for a while. The area was stocked full of kegs and boxes stacked high. There were so many places to hide. Arthur wouldn't find him here, and with any luck, neither would the hotel staff. It was late, probably nearing closing time, for a lot of the services that required anything from this stock room. The camera at the door was easy to thwart, and from what he could see, there weren't any cameras at this end of the room.
Nash crouched down on the floor and scooted over to the corner with boxes surrounding him, shielding him from view. His hands were aching from the deep gashes covering them. The forest had been brutal, and the wounds were bleeding profusely.
There was a cost for everything, and a few cuts for his freedom seemed reasonable. He wondered what his face looked like. The scratches were mostly along his jawline and neck, but some were deep, and considering the looks he got on the bus and on the street, they were quite noticeable.
He saw an open crate next to him that contained bottles of whiskey. The curative properties of a good whiskey were well known. He wasn’t a thief, but he needed to treat his wounds. Finally, after several minutes of justification, Nash wrote a note naming what he took and that he promised to pay and then signed it. He wet a couple shop rags with the whiskey and cleaned the wounds on his hands and then his face. He then took the rags and wrapped them around his hands.
The whiskey application was painful, but it also felt good to know the wounds were clean and would heal. The pain persisted to the point that he took a full swig of the golden liquid in an attempt to temper the discomfort. After a few shots, the pain lessened to a tolerable level, and Nash decided he sort of liked the taste of the whiskey, or perhaps it was the numbing effect that he liked.
CHAPTER TWO
Judah was staying till close tonight, thankful that Sam was giving him the opportunity to meet members of the pack and to get a feel for the establishment that employed many from the Coven. He was behind the bar at the Black Dog with Sam when Koa came in and took a seat. Sam poured him a brandy and leaned against the bar. Koa had something to say. You could see it in his eyes and in the set of his shoulders.
"I attended the tent show I spoke of earlier." He began. "They had all the required permits and such; there was no problem there. They followed all of the local ordinances; I know because I checked, hoping I could have found a reason to shut the thing down. It was wrong; the whole show, display or performance, whatever you want to call it, was way off." Koa paused and took a drink of his brandy. Judah hadn't known Koa long, but he didn't strike him as reactionary. Whatever he felt at the tent show must have been significant for him to go to the lengths of trying to shut them down.
"Whatever it was, the humans couldn't feel it, but every paranormal there ended up leaving, including me." He finished his brandy, and Sam poured him another.
“What was it that drove you away?”
"Just a feeling that crawled under my skin. It was the feeling of tainted magic."
"The humans were lapping it up?" Sam was becoming concerned. Sam then turned to Judah and added. "Magics have become a growing issue in the region." Judah nodded his understanding of their concern. Magics were unpredictable as a rule, but tainted magic was pure malevolence and nothing you wanted near or in your area.
"Not all some seemed unsure but remained listening to that so-called faith healer and psychic seer." Koa shook his head in disgust. "He was no more a healer or seer than I am. He was a total phony but a decent actor, and, in their defense, he was not the actual headliner." Javier came in and sat down next to Koa, and Sam poured him a whiskey.
"Who was the headliner?" Javier interjected, joining the conversation.
"His name is Nash Rhodes, according to the flyers. People who attended yesterday said he was young and gifted, and that's why they returned, but it was announced he wouldn't be appearing tonight."
“Did you get the twisted magic feel from his replacement?” Sam came back to the bad magic perspective.
"No, it was the handler, a guy by the name of Arthur Tate. Something has attached itself to that man." Koa nodded and glanced over at Javier. "They're leaving tomorrow, and good riddance. We don't need bad magic infecting the people around here." He paused for another sip of his brandy. Judah's uneasiness was growing with the suggestion of possession being added to the mix.
“Maybe you could have your mate Sacha check the area after they move out to make sure they don’t leave any lingering effects.”
"I will, and if there is anything hanging on, he can dispatch it before it grows." Javier agreed, and Sam informed Judah that Javier's mate was a powerful Mage, which was a distinct positive in the situation. Mage magic was pure and clean and was a valuable defense against dark spells.
"Now, the reason I stopped in was to let you know that you have a situation brewing in the basement stockroom." Javier clarified with a smile while looking at Sam and then finished his whiskey.
"What sort of situation?" Sam asked as he quickly rounded the bar and headed to the back room, which gave access to the storeroom. Judah, Javier, and Koa followed.
"Someone broke in and started drinking," Javier stated, and Sam turned to stare at him pointedly for a moment before continuing down the stairs. "He's quite drunk and human, and he knows what we are." That last tidbit had Sam hurrying a little faster. The situation took on a seriousness that required immediate handling. Judah found the transition from dark magics to a lonely drunk rather refreshing but did not voice such, for Sam did not look amused.
Strangely enough, the minute Judah rounded the corner and saw several wolf shifters standing over the man seated on the floor, he felt a sudden surge of defensiveness. He wanted them to back up to give the guy breathing room, but he said nothing because his feelings made no sense. This man was a trespasser and had no right to peace or comfort under the current circumstances.
Just as he approached, he heard the young man bark at the man, attempting to help him to his feet. "Get your hands off me, wolf. Leave me the fuck alone. I'm not going back. Get away from me." He was loud and desperate and very drunk, and Judah again felt himself leaning into the need to help this man.
"Who is he?" Sam asked, but no one knew his name. The men circling him stepped back, and Judah was able to see the young man huddled on the floor, attempting to fend them off. He was dressed in a long, dark coat, a black cap, and dark glasses, and he possessed a powerful magnetism that drew Judah in, urging him to come closer.
He began to wonder at the depth of feeling that was rushing him and the meaning and caught his breath on the possibility. Centuries have passed since the last time he even thought about such a thing happening to him and had resolved that Fate's gift was only given to those who were esteemed and worthy.
