Tales of the Otherworld (16 page)

I sprang to my feet and ran back to the path. I’d been gone long enough for Elena to get a good head start. Luckily, she was running upwind, meaning I could catch her scent on the breeze. I breathed it in, inhaling so deeply the cold air scorched my lungs.

When I was in human form, Elena’s scent teased and intrigued me with unformed thoughts and vague urges. Now there was no vagueness or uncertainty. The smell of her cut through the night air like a drug, and I raced after it, as blind to my surroundings as if I’d been on a treadmill.

Finally, she was there, just ahead of me, ponytail bobbing in the darkness. I threw my front paws out, nails digging into the path, forcing the rest of my body to a skidding halt.

I should have slipped into the woods, then approached hidden along the side, but the tree cover was so far from the path’s edge…so far from her. Just a little closer, then I’d cut to the shadows.

When I was close enough to hear the chuff of her breathing, I knew I should stop. But it was so dark, with only a sliver moon illuminating the path. She’d never see me. I could get closer.

She was sweating now, dripping scent. I drank in the smell, eyes narrowing to slits as I inhaled. I slipped off the path to run along the grassy edge, where I’d make less noise. Just a little closer, and then I’d—

Elena stopped, so fast she stumbled. I raced for the tree cover, stopped just inside, and hunkered down, holding myself still.

After a moment, I peered out. She was still there, where she’d stopped, squinting to see in the near-darkness. She held her switchblade out, finger over the trigger, the blade still sheathed. Her gaze traveled over both sides of the path, searching the shadows. She cocked her head, listening. Then, with a soft sigh and a slow shake of her head, she tucked the knife back into her palm, checked her watch, then sighed again. After one longing look down the path, she turned around and started running back the way she’d come.

I stayed in the woods. As much as I wanted to be closer, I wouldn’t risk spooking her again. So I ran alongside her, far enough away to keep silent, but close enough that I could hear the pound of her feet, and if I glanced over, see her pale form against the night.

Partway back, she slowed. I could tell from her breathing that she was far from exhausted. Had she heard me? I’d been running silently, skirting dead leaves and undergrowth.

Elena looked around, a casual sweep of the forest. She checked her watch. Her nose scrunched up, head tilted, as if considering something. A pause. Then she strode off the path, heading to my side. I stayed absolutely still. A few feet from the tree line, she lowered herself onto the ground beside a boulder.

I waited, then slunk closer and peered out. She sat on the grass, leaning back against the rock. After another minute, her eyelids began to flag. They closed halfway, then she sat there, relaxing in the quiet night.

I hunkered down to my belly and crept forward until my muzzle poked out into the clearing. Sweat trickled down her cheek. I watched it fall, wondered what it would taste like, imagined it, tangy and salty, imagined the feel of her cheek under my tongue. A shudder ran through me and I closed my eyes.

Something tickled my tail. My eyes flew open. A chipmunk scampered along my side. I stared, marveling at its stupidity. It must have figured I was a dog and stayed focused on its quarry, the human a few
feet away. Around here, humans meant food, not danger. It’d probably smelled her and woken up, hoping to be given a late-night snack.

As the chipmunk raced toward Elena, I let out the softest growl. It just kept scampering along, determined to intrude on her solitude.

I slapped down my paw, pinning it. The chipmunk let out a tiny shriek and twisted in panic. I stretched forward, bringing my jaws a hairsbreadth from its head, and drew back my lips in a silent snarl. When I was sure it got the message, I lifted my paw. The chipmunk tore back into the woods.

I looked over at Elena. She was still resting, undisturbed. I stretched out, lowered my muzzle to my forelegs, and watched her.

The way to get to know Elena better was now obvious. She liked to run; I liked to run. Maybe not in the same way, but I could be flexible. The important thing was that this was a common interest that could get us out of that damned office and into an environment where I could be myself. Well, not really myself, but closer to it.

The problem was how to work the topic into conversation. Not only that, but how to formulate it into a request. I didn’t have much experience with that—making requests. I told people what I wanted—whether they chose to give it to me was their concern.

I’d had friendships with humans before. Okay, maybe
friendships
is stretching it, but I’d had acquaintances. I never initiated the relationship, though. Even with something as inconsequential as partnering up for a school project, I’d always sat back and waited for someone to come to me, and eventually someone would, a classmate who’d learned to overlook my rudeness, or one who wanted my brains badly enough that he didn’t care how unfriendly I was.

Even with Nick, I never said, “Hey, do you want to catch a movie tonight?” I told him I wanted to see a show, and he knew me well enough to understand that the matter was open for negotiation…at least in theory.

Yet I knew there was no way in hell I could go up to Elena and tell her to take me along on her next run. Even if I did manage to come up with a rational story to explain how I knew she ran, I suspected the
demand-and-wait-for-results approach would leave me waiting for a very long time…probably on the opposite side of a slammed door.

This would take finesse. Finesse and patience. Had I possessed either, I’m sure things would have gone much smoother.

When Elena came to work the next day, it was obvious that her run had done its job, clearing her head and her mood. But if I’d hoped that somehow our shared experience had gone both ways, I was soon cured of that fantasy.

Elena came in and did her work, as pleasant as could be. But the moment I tried turning the conversation away from the paper she was researching for me, she steered it right back on track. Even a desperate “So, what did you do last night?” only earned me a murmured “Not much.”

The next time she asked me a research question, I’d work conversation in the right direction…though I had no idea how I’d segue from prehistoric bear cults to jogging. So she continued skimming through the stack of books, making notes, while I graded quizzes. It went really well for the first ten minutes. Then I got tired of waiting and slapped the stack of quizzes down onto the desk.

“Do you run?” I said.

From the look she gave me, you’d think I’d asked whether she wore men’s underwear.

“Do I what?” she asked after several long seconds of silence.

“Run. You know, jog, run, whatever.”

She continued to stare at me. I probably should have worked it into the conversation better. Or started a conversation first, so I’d have one to work it into. So now I had to think up one on the fly, which would have been easier if she wasn’t sitting there, nose scrunched, waiting for me to say something profound.

“Running is good,” I said. “A good hobby—sport. A good sport. Good for you.”

Her lips twitched. “Uh-huh.”

“Well, it is, right? Gets you outside, in the fresh air, exercising. All good.”

The phone rang—a sound I have never been so grateful to hear. As I lifted the receiver, she shook her head, smiling, and I knew my fumble
hadn’t been fatal—more of a pratfall, the kind of thing she was getting used to.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice said on the other end of the line.

I started to hang up, but she spoke again, louder. Elena motioned at the phone, as if maybe I’d thought there was no one there. Damn.

I lifted the phone to my ear. “What?”

Elena sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Is Elena Michaels there?” the woman asked.

“No.”

“Her roommate said she was there. She gave me this number and …”

The woman droned on, but I didn’t hear. As tempting as it was to hang up, this could be urgent. I couldn’t argue that talking to me about running was more important than a sick relative…not a close relative anyway.

So I passed the phone to Elena. She hesitated, brows knitting, then took it with a cautious “Hello?” No sooner did I hear the woman respond than Elena’s eyes went wide with dismay, and I knew I’d made a mistake.

“This isn’t—” Elena began. “No, I’m at work. I can’t talk about this now. I—”

The woman’s voice cut in. I caught a few words, none that made any sense out of context. But the next one required no context at all. And when I heard it, I reached over to slam down the plunger. Before I could, Elena caught my eye, and her cheeks went scarlet as she realized I was listening. She grabbed the phone from under my hand and twisted around, moving as far from the desk as the cord would allow.

“I can’t—” she whispered. “Look, whatever he said, I didn’t—”

The woman continued to rant. This time, though, when she called Elena a bitch, Elena’s back went rigid.

“This is not my problem,” Elena said, voice icing over. “No,
you
listen to
me.
I have never done anything—” The woman yelled something and Elena’s back went so tight it looked ready to snap. “He’s the one with the problem, not me, and I’m not going to—”

The line went dead. Elena stood there, fingers white around the receiver. After a moment she lowered her arm stiffly, and replaced the receiver in the cradle.

“I am so sorry,” she said as she turned to me.

“Sorry? Don’t be sorry. What the hell does that woman think—?”

“I’m sorry and it won’t happen again.”

Elena enunciated each word with care, and as her gaze met mine, my own words died in my throat. From her look, I knew if I continued, I’d cross a line that wasn’t ready to be crossed.

“I don’t know how she got this number,” Elena said.

“Your roommate gave it to her.”

Anger sparked in her eyes. “Then I’ll have a talk with her.”

She turned, still stiff, and looked around the room, as if trying to remember what she’d been doing before the phone rang. Her gaze lit on the stack of books. She reached for the open one.

“Running,” I said.

She stopped, lips pursing in a frown, then cracking into a tiny smile. “Ah, right. Running. It’s good.”

I hoisted myself onto the desktop. “It is, and the reason I was asking is that I run, but I can’t seem to find a decent track around here. So I thought, even if you don’t run, you might be able to recommend a spot for me.”

Elena took her seat. “Well, I do. Run, that is. There are a few good places around here. It depends on whether you like the street or the beach or—”

“Where do you run?”

“Uh, well, that depends. Usually in a park—”

“Good. I’ll go with you, then.”

She stared at me, as if replaying my words, making sure she’d heard right. Then she pulled back in her chair.

“I’m not sure that’s such a …”

She let the sentence trail off and her gaze searched mine, wary, almost reluctant, as if looking for something she didn’t really expect to find, but had to be sure.

“You like to run alone?” I said. “That’s fine. Me, I like company. Back at home, no problem, but here…?” I shrugged. “Not a lot of running buddies to pick from.”

She smiled. “I’m sure I could find one for you. I’ll make an announcement at the next class and—”

“I want someone to run with, not from.”

She laughed.

I continued, “Now, this park you mentioned. Maybe you can show it to me sometime, or draw me a map.”

She hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t mind company, I guess. Sure, I’ll take you there, show you the trails. I usually run at night, but—”

“Night’s fine.”

“The park’s actually closed after dark. That’s one reason I go there. It’s very quiet, and I usually have the whole place to myself. Technically, of course, I am trespassing.”

“So if we hear sirens, we run faster.”

She smiled. “Exactly.”

“I’ll go with you next time, then. So when’s that? Tonight? This weekend?”

A laugh. “Eager to get back to it? Well, you should have plenty of running buddies this weekend.”

“Huh?”

“You
are
going home this weekend, aren’t you? That’s what you said on Monday. Going home for Thanksgiving. Well, not
your
Thanksgiving—that’s in November. For you, this is just a long weekend.”

“Uh, right. That’s right. I’m going home.”

Any other time, it would have been a welcome reminder. Right then, though, I wondered whether there was some way I could get out of it.

“So we’ll do it next week,” she said. “And this weekend, you can run with your regular partners. Assuming you’ll see them.”

“I will. It’s a Meet…ing. Meeting. Bunch of buddies coming over.”

“Sounds like fun.” She settled back into her seat. “You have trails near your place?”

“
At
our place.”

Her brows went up.

“Big backyard,” I said. “A few hundred acres.”

“Oh, wow. Woods?”

I nodded. “Mostly forest, some field. Got a pond, a couple of streams. Lots of trails.”

“Now that’s the kind of place I’d like to have. Not that I’ve ever lived in the country. I’m probably one of those people who’d get out there and start missing the city life.” She paused. “You’re in New York, right? The state, not the city.”

“We’re up by Syracuse. Nearest neighbor is at least a half-mile …”