Oh yes.
We were safe. We’d been four mountains over safe. I was cursing myself, just like I’d been the last day, when I heard a sound that I didn’t think I’d hear again.
“You doofus! We need that to burn the Mary Jane.”
Humans.
Glorious, doofus-saying, Mary-Jane smoking, humans.
I almost doubled over in relief. The mere sound of that voice slammed an old sense of reality back into me, one where I had been human, somewhat normal, and I hadn’t been interrogated, tortured, wounded, or hunted by a supernatural being, or an entire army of supernatural beings.
I was so overwhelmed that I was frozen in place as two guys stumbled past the clearing and onto the same path that I was on.
I was there, standing with my hand wrapped around a walking stick, and my eyes so damn wide a flying saucer could’ve entered them. I knew I must’ve been a sight. I’d alternated between shivering and sweating over the last day and a half. I still didn’t want to use any more of The Immortal powers than necessary, and because I wasn’t expecting to find anyone so close to me, I hadn’t resurrected the cloaking spell. I was still stunned. I hadn’t even thought about making myself invisible.
These two guys, one was tall and lanky, with a bright green rain jacket and glasses on his face, and the other was an inch shorter and pudgier, wearing a matching jacket, stared at me. They both had hiking boots and had large hiking bags strapped to their backs. They were dumbfounded.
Then, one broke out, a wide smile appearing, “Hey! Are you a hallucination?”
The taller one frowned and smacked the shorter on the back of his head. “If we’re both seeing her, I doubt it.” He paused, his frown deepened, and he took his glasses off. After cleaning them, he put them back on and leaned forward. “Nope. She’s still there.”
“Hey!” The shorter one pumped his hand in the air. “What’s your name? Do you speak English? I’m Spencer.”
“Of course she speaks English,” the taller one muttered, but stopped and scratched behind his ear. “Wait. She might not.”
At the same time, Spencer twisted around and muttered to him, without moving his lips, “You don’t know that. This place has some strange folks in it. She could be from some native tribe or something.”
“She’s wearing jeans.”
“Oh yeah.” Spencer nodded to himself, his smile brightening even more. “What’s your name?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “This is Cal. We’re here on holiday. We’re hiking through these parts before heading back to the States. Figured this was a trip of a lifetime. We were nearby in Brunsby on a semester visa, but that’s done for in a week. You on holiday, too? Wait.” He glanced around, narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips in concentration. “Where’s your group? You’re not alone, are you?”
This was absurd. Both were from America, and both were high. A laugh started deep in my throat and before long, it doubled in volume. I couldn’t contain it. They were hiking. They were on holiday. They thought I was a student.
I was so very far from just a student.
Drifting closer, warming to me from my laughter, the taller one chuckled, too. “I know we’re a sight. We got separated from our group yesterday. We haven’t washed or eaten anything except a little marijuana that Spencer had left over. And side note, if that’s all you have to eat, don’t do it. The munchies are making me go crazy. Spencer won’t let me eat any of our food. Rainforest tree bark started to look a lot more appetizing than the pine trees back home. Say,” his eyes focused on me again, “You haven’t seen any other U.S. students, have you?”
No, no. Just vampires. That was all.
My shoulders were still shaking, and I shook my head back and forth. I was trying to form a coherent word, but the hilarity of the situation was still hitting me. A few tears leaked from my eyes, and my cheeks were starting to ache from the laughter.
“What’s your name?” Spencer’s lip were still curved up, but any slight chuckle he might’ve let out had dwindled. The bright smile he had was no longer. It lessened and a look of alarm was starting to enter his gaze. “You haven’t said yet.”
“Da—” I was Davy. The nickname of Davy didn’t pertain to me anymore. It hadn’t for so long, since my first torture session, but I heard myself saying, “Davy,” to these two strangers. I wanted to be Davy again, even if it was for a brief moment in time. I could be that girl with no big responsibilities, where I only had to worry about being empathic. I suddenly missed that girl a whole ton.