There’s a certain intimacy to driving at night, being locked in a moving box with two other people, sharing each breath, the journey, the dark. There’s silence but for the rain and the wet whir of the wheels on the road and the windscreen wipers’ slow intermittent swishing. That and the two other heartbeats and the soft whispering breath of my passengers. Brax’s heart beats faster than usual and Ferro’s is always going a million miles a minute, something to do with his physiology. The slight hitch in breath like a break in a gale was alert enough that the other wolf was about to speak.
“Where are we going?”
“Far away from here,” I said. The Witch muttered something about a museum in Wales. “I think we need to stop for the night.” I admonished quietly, bracing for the coming Witch-storm.
“We need to keep going -”
“He’s right,” Ferro interrupted before the Witch could unleash some of his crazy on me. “We should rest, plot over our next move. Y’know, maybe eat.”
A sigh. I shot a small smile at Ferro in the rearview then glanced at Brax. Whatever this guy was doing, it was taking its toll on our Witch. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair stuck up in black cobweb tufts around his pale face. He often joked that he had trapped a demon in his soul; there were times, like now, when his pupils dilated and the band of gold separating the green from black took on shades of red, and his eyes became two fire-lined craters leading into the abyss that, yes, did stare back, when I suspected that he was in fact telling the truth.
“Brax you’re running on fumes,” I said, turning back to the road. For a few seconds I could still see those eyes floating on the road ahead of me. I shivered and shook my head. “Let’s rest up,” I continued. “You’re no good to us half dead.”
“Yeah.” He folded his arms gently and turned to lean his forehead on the window. I could sense Ferro’s grin before I saw it in the rearview.
“Okay,” he said.