The Marked Mate

Rain pelts my windshield, blurring my view of the road ahead. Squinting, I search for the white line between lanes.

Is this even a road? It must be.

I lean in closer to the dashboard, the drumming of the rain growing louder. My wipers are going full tilt, sluicing water off the car in sheets, but still, I can barely see a thing.

I spot a flash of white—the dividing line in the road. I’m right on top of it. I yank the steering wheel to swerve back into my lane, and my tires screech and slide with the sudden movement.

A shiver shoots through me. I should slow down. This storm is dangerous; I’ll be lucky if I don’t skid off into a ditch. But instead, my foot presses the gas harder as I hear a distant howl.

Can wolves run fast enough to catch up to a car? The constant racket of rain against the hood is so loud that I can’t hear anything else.

Am I far enough away yet? Am I finally free?

The farther I drive, the sicker I feel. My stomach twists around itself as the nausea makes it impossible to breathe. I know that if I go back, the pain will vanish instantly. But I can’t do that. I can never go back.

A stabbing pain spasms all the way down my neck and side. I let go of the steering wheel, clutching the source of the pain—the angry red wound on the left side of my throat.

What can I do to make this stop? The more I touch it, the more nauseous I feel.

I can handle this, though. I have no other choice.

My vision blurs. I’m still driving eighty miles per hour down a rain-soaked highway, and I can barely see. I just pray that I won’t pass out behind the wheel.

I press the accelerator harder, desperate to put just a little more distance between me and my pursuers. The car jerks to the left while the road continues to the right.

I yank the steering wheel, but it’s too much. The car begins to tumble and roll.

My ears fill with screeching and the sound of crunching metal. The airbag slams into my chest, knocking the breath from my lungs and distracting me from the pain.

I open my eyes, but the blinding light forces them shut again. I shield my face with my arm. The room is so bright.

I slowly force my eyes open again. The glare reflects off the pearl-white walls. The smell of disinfectant fills my lungs.

Where am I?

“Hi there,” a cheerful woman in white greets me. She walks toward me, clipboard in hand. “You’re finally awake! How are you feeling?”

I try to respond, but my throat is raw, and nausea makes it hard to speak. My headache is so intense that I can hear it in my ears.

There’s nothing she can do to help with any of this, so I lie. “Good, I guess. Where am I?”

“In Townsend, Tennessee, at the hospital, hun, but you’ll be okay. Do you remember the accident?” Her warm, brown eyes are filled with concern as she adjusts the machines around me.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Memories rush back to me. I was driving, trying to escape. The car flipped. I must have passed out. “Sort of,” I tell her. “There was a storm.”

“Good. It may take a moment for you to remember everything. What’s your name, hun? Is there anyone we can call for you?”

“Maisie. Um, no, I don’t have…” My words trail off as images of my family fill my mind.

“Well, no worries. We’ll take care of you just fine. You’re part of our family now. Anyway, I’ll let the doctor and everyone else know you’re awake.” She pats my hand gently and leaves the sterile room.

Everything is eerily quiet once she’s gone. Was I really in a car accident? After all the horrifying, supernatural crap that’s happened to me over the past few weeks, a car accident seems so boring.

So normal. So human.

I fill my lungs with air, hold it, then let it out in a long sigh.

The door swings open, and three people enter the small hospital room.

“Hi, Maisie. I’m Doctor Everett. How are you feeling?” asks an older woman with graying hair as she pulls a chair up to my bed.

I nod, struggling to look away from the two silent men behind her. Goosebumps spread across my skin as they watch me. Their muscular frames fill the small space. “I’m okay,” I whisper.

As she checks my pulse, the doctor continues, “I’m glad to hear it. That was quite an accident. You have a few broken bones, plus some scrapes and scratches. Are you feeling any pain from your injuries?”

For the first time since I woke up, I take stock of my body. There’s a bandage wrapped along my left arm and another one tight around my ribcage. Scrapes cover my free arm and hand. Everything hurts.

“I’m okay. Nothing hurts too bad,” I lie, keeping my voice even.

“Well, you must be super strong, Maisie.” The doctor pauses, looking up from the stethoscope to catch my eyes. “We noticed some other injuries, older ones. Can you tell me anything about those?”

Her voice is warm, but there’s a serious undertone. All three sets of eyes are on me, waiting for an answer—an answer I can’t give them.

“Nothing really to tell. I’m just clumsy.” I avoid meeting anyone’s gaze as I speak.

Dr. Everett’s hand wraps around mine gently. “You’d have to be the clumsiest person on the planet to end up with those types of injuries.”

“We found a bite on your neck,” she presses. “Can you tell me about that?”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying my story.

The men standing behind her wear similar expressions of disbelief. I really need to work on my lying skills.

“That’s odd. It’s a lot bigger than any dog bite I’ve ever seen. Like maybe someone did this to you? Someone fairly big by the looks of it. Did someone bite you, Maisie?”

I force a smile, trying to suppress the wave of nausea threatening to overtake me.

“I’m okay, really. I already saw a doctor back home; it’s all taken care of. Can I go now?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t discharge you just yet. We need to monitor your injuries, so you’ll need to stay here for a few days. Is there anyone we can contact for you? Perhaps a significant other who would want to know you’re safe?”

“No…no… There’s no one to call.”

The doctor starts to say something, then stops. Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t push any more. “All right, Maisie. Try to get some rest. I’ll be back to check on you soon.”

But I’m free, which is better than I was yesterday. That has to be enough, for now.