Page 19 of On the Road

“I fuckin’ love it.” Zee rushed ahead, thrashing through the brush.

“Zee, wait!”

A gunshot boomed.

Zee ducked behind a bush, I dropped behind a second one, and Victor took shelter beside me.

“Ugh, you’d think someone with a pink house would be friendlier!” Zee made sure to speak loud enough for half the forest to hear.

“Is this Zander’s place?” I whispered to Victor.

“It seems likely.”

The werewolves hadn’t mentioned anything about his house being pink. “Maybe he doesn’t like strangers.” It probably wasn’t every day a dashingly handsome Scout-leader vampire, a seven-foot-tall demon in glossy heels, and an average human wandered into his yard.

“Uhm, hello?” I called.

“Get back!” a man’s muffled voice sounded from inside. “Or the next one goes in the demon!”

“Rude,” Zee huffed.

“I see the gun,” Victor said. “It’s propped on the leftmost window sill. Adam, I can make it to the cabin and take the gun before he can fire again.”

Victor could probably eliminate the threat in under three seconds, but that didn’t seem like a nice way to get to know someone. “No, we need him to talk to us.”

“Bro!” Zee called. “Your cabin is pink. You don’t seem like the sort to kill us.”

“I am passive aggressive!”

“This seems mostly active aggressive,” I mumbled, then shot to my feet and raised my hands. “Hi, uh . . . my name is Adam. Please don’t shoot.”

“Adam!” Victor growled, warning me to drop back by his side.

A gunshot would hurt, but it wouldn’t kill me. I’d take the risk that this guy wasn’t going to follow through on his threat.

“Are you Zander?” I called.

“Maybe.”

“We just want to talk.” I took a step forward, and when no shot came, took another.

“Stay back!”

“Just so you know, if you shoot Adam,” Zee called out. “You’ll have about two seconds to regret it before me and the vampire come in there and turn your pink walls red. You feel me?!”

“Zee, c’mon . . .” I whined. “I’m trying to be nice.”

He shrugged. “I have anxiety. You’re giving me anxiety.”

“I’ve got this,” I told him. He muttered something indecipherable which I took to mean go right ahead then. “So uhm . . . I don’t know if you know, but there’s been some trouble at the bar? You know the bar? With the werewolves . . . uh the uhm, Whiteacre Riders.”

“Those assholes can bite my furry ass!”

“Oh, well, uhm, we’re not technically with them, I guess. We’re kind of . . . uhm . . . consultants?”

Zee circled his hand in the air, signaling I should get to the point.

“So uh, somebody has died,” I went on. “And a few folks said we should talk to you?”