Chapter 28

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

My tongue is thick, and my mouth tastes funny. I don't know where I am. I feel the vibration of a vehicle rumbling through me, and I instantly smile and turn my head. As I open my eyes, I mumble, "Paul."

I start to reach for him. He's not there.

I stare at the empty seat next to me in confusion. It takes a long time for me to piece together that I'm on a bus. Too long.

What the hell is going on?

I open my mouth and move my tongue around. Feeling drool on my chin, I swipe it with the back of my hand. Yawning, I look out the window to see we're parked at a large bus concourse. The word Denver catches my attention.

There is something I'm supposed to do in Denver.

Why am I hungover in Denver?

The thoughts in my head tick slowly. I grab the seat in front of me and pull myself to my feet. My leg bumps into something. I glance down and see my backpack.

Pulling the bag onto my shoulder, I see my phone on the seat. I take that, too, as I look around for anything else that might belong to me.

The bus idles, and only a few people remain on it. I bump into the seats as I make my way along the aisle. As I exit, I look around for familiar faces but don't see any. Sounds run together, and words are hard to pick apart. It's all a jumbled mess of tones, like everyone is talking at once.

Nothing about this feels right.

What am I supposed to do in Denver?

A sign directing people to the airport shuttle catches my attention. I'm supposed to go to the airport and fly to San Francisco. That's right. I'm meeting my birth mother.

Reality slowly comes into focus through the haze. Before I realize what I'm doing, I find myself walking to get on a train. Someone stops me. They want my ticket. I forgot you had to pay for things.

I dig through my bag, looking for cash. It's missing. My wallet is open like someone rummaged through it. Both of my driver's licenses are askew, and my credit cards are still there.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry," a mother shouts, dragging her son behind her as they rush to board the train.

The words aren't meant for me, but they prompt me into action. I use my card to buy a ticket at the vending machine and hurry to find a seat on the train.

A loud thud rouses me, and I jerk awake.

"Sorry," someone mutters an apology. I'm not sure if they're talking to me.

I don't remember passing out, but my head is a little clearer. I'm on a train to the airport to visit my birth mother because my brother is trying to kill me. My body still doesn't feel right, but at least I can focus my thoughts.

A heaviness has invaded my muscles and dulled my nerves. It reminds me of smoking pot in the closet at my birthday party.

Am I drugged?

I rise from my seat and look around for supernatural creatures. There are a few candidates I should keep an eye on.

I automatically reach for my necklace and am relieved to feel its bump beneath my shirt. Apparently, it only protects me from death, not suffering.

Or being roofied.

How…?

"Fucking Walter," I grumble in realization. He gave me the breakfast sandwich and waited for me to pass out before robbing me.

Oh, come on, now.

I was so focused on protecting myself from the supernatural that I forgot to guard myself from another basic predator: humans.

That's like, ‘How to be a Girl 101'. Don't ingest anything from strangers.

Damn. And he seemed so nice, too, talking about missing his dead wife and carrying her ashes with him. So harmless.

Yeah. Harmless.

For fuck's sake. Now, I feel drugged and violated.

I look at my clothing. At least we were near people on the bus. I doubt he would have molested me while I slept. Still, the not knowing for sure leaves me feeling gross.

Fate really has it out for me. What did I ever do to that bitch?

I get on my phone to check flights. I would have bought my ticket earlier, but I was too busy taking food from strangers. I'm surprised that I actually find a flight, even though the cost of the three-hour trip is more than the bus ticket.

When the train comes to a stop, I duck my head and draw my arms close. I keep to myself as I navigate through security to my departure gate. I can't be certain, but I think I catch a security officer's inner eyelid membranes blink in the wrong direction like a lizard. I pretend not to notice.

The plane is already loading when I get there, so I just walk on. My seat is in the very back against a wall. It doesn't recline and isn't the most comfortable, but whatever.

Waiting for takeoff, I pull out my phone to charge it and text my arrival times to Lorelai. She instantly answers that she'll be at the airport waiting in Terminal Level Four, past the baggage claim. I want to keep the conversation going so as not to feel so alone, but I don't know what to say. Instead, I end up giving her a thumbs-up emoji.

I click on Paul's name and stare at his number. I would give anything to have him and Diana next to me instead of being squished between a woman with too much perfume and what I can only assume is an angsty teenager. Not that I can judge. I was an angsty teen not so long ago.

Regardless, I won't make the mistake of becoming friendly with my travel companions again. Lesson learned.

The plane begins to move, and the flight attendant is doing her presentation. I ignore her. If the plane goes down, it won't kill me. The amulet won't let it.

On the surface, that might sound like a blessing, but I'm beginning to understand that it might be a curse. Nothing against my grandfather. He meant well. He did his best to protect me.

I'm anxious about flying. What if the lizard security guy recognized me and told someone? Conrad had indicated people were looking for me. The supernatural can be a tight-knit network of busybodies. If there is a bounty on my head, any number of them will be happy to claim it.

Can I even trust anything Conrad said? Has my whole life been a lie?

I feel so betrayed. And heartbroken.

I should be excited and nervous about meeting my birth mother, but all I want is to curl into a ball and never get out of bed. Four months ago, I had a family and a life that made sense. And, if not sense, it was at least familiar. I knew my place in the universe. My adoptive brother loved me. My mother was my mother, for better or worse.

I should have been a better daughter. Then Astrid wouldn't have told me about Lorelai. If I had to pinpoint a moment my life started to take a nosedive, it's that one. Everything has been an upheaval since.

Astrid's voice echoes in my brain, telling me that self-pity helps no one. That it's a tool of the weak. Growing up, I always thought of my mother as a cold woman. Now, sitting here on a plane all by myself, I realized the gift she gave me. She was teaching me how to survive in a cruel and ugly world without protection. She tried to make me resilient. She tried to provide me with all the tools she thought my human self would need to survive. Somehow, she knew that I would not be able to depend on other people and that, in the end, I would need to rely on myself. I miss her greatly. And I wish I could lift her out of that mausoleum and tell her I understand. That I don't hate her. And I'm sorry.

And, yes, it can die.

I think now that I understand those words. You don't have to take someone's life to kill them. There are much crueler deaths.

The plane gains speed, and I feel the moment the tires leave the tarmac. Gravity pulls me back in my seat as we head into the sky.

I don't know what the world will look like with Lorelai in it. I feel a little too beaten down for hope at this moment. All I can do is trudge forward.

I think the last of my hopes left me when I watched Paul drive away. He took my mortal dreams with him.

"Whoa, hey, are you okay?" The teenager gives me a strange look.

I realize that my eyes are wet. I swipe them with the back of my hand. "I hate flying."

"You, uh…?" He timidly offers me his hand.

I'm not making friends. Life has been pretty clear about that lesson. People I'm friendly with either hurt me or get hurt. There is no in-between. I might survive a crash landing, but these people won't.

I shake my head in denial. "No, thanks, I got this. Ego sum avis stultus."