Page 34 of Monster Queen Rising

She turns her face back to the window.

The drive to Colorado is long. Daron and I take it in shifts of silence and low radio, and Elma's breathing stays uneven for the first hour and then evens out, and somewhere past the state line she sleeps. We reach the friend's house after dark — a small place on a quiet street, porch light on, a woman already at the storm door because Elma called her from the road. They hold each other on the step for a long time. Elma picks up the duffel, and before she goes in she turns back to me.

"You'll come back."

"If you need me to. That's a promise."

"You'll tell me what's happening with the list."

"I will."

She turns to Daron, leaned against the side of the truck. He meets her eyes.

"Thank you."

"That's the job."

She goes up the steps. At the door she looks back once. Then she's inside, and the door closes, and the porch light stays on.

We get back in the truck.

Daron doesn't start it right away. He's looking at the closed door. Then he turns the key.

"Next name's a long way north," he says. "There's a place we can stop halfway."

"Okay."

The motel is one story, paint peeling, gravel lot. The sign reads VACANCY in red. The manager takes cash and doesn't look up. Daron pays for one room.

Queen bed, a chair, a dresser, a window. Brown carpet. The bathroom light flickers when you flip the switch.

He locks the door, slides the chain, walks the perimeter — window, bathroom, angles — and turns around, and the second he's done being careful, he stops being careful about anything.

Daron's standing across the room, shrugging out of his flannel like the last twenty-two hours finally caught up to him.

Broad shoulders. Strong hands. His jaw's set, and those pale ice-blue eyes are still watching the door, still making sure we’re safe.

He drove eleven hours to save a woman he'd never met. He'd admitted he was afraid. Then he'd gone anyway.

I cross the room before I think better of it.

"Daron."

His attention shifts to me.

"What?"

"Thank you."

A faint crease forms between his brows.

"For what?"

"For saving her." My throat tightens. "One less Syndicate horror story."

Something in his expression softens.

"We got one out."