Page 2 of Red

“What a sweet boy you are,” he said, voice low.

It sent a weird shiver up my spine, so I glanced at him, wondering if I’d misheard.

He was smiling, lips closed now, gaze fixed straight ahead. A group of kids wandered by, giggling at something, and he ducked his head as if he didn’t want to be seen by them. When he caught me watching, he flashed his teeth again. “Kids, right? Vicious little beggars. All you do is walk past them and suddenly you’re a TikTok meme.”

I grunted something meant to sound affirmative. Sounded like a manosphere podcast talking point, somehow; fragile masculinity wrapped up in an expensive-looking sweater and well-oiled beard. Guys like that couldn’t help telling on themselves, could they?

Assured that I was a superior man, I walked a little taller beside him, now keeping pace. “I didn’t get your name.”

“Wulfric,” he said.

“That’s original.”

“Not really. Been in my family for centuries.”

Also the name of a Pokémon trainer, but I wasn’t sure that’d go over well with this guy.

“And you?” he prompted.

“Devan Reddy. Dev.” And I asked, “You’re from Ferry Vale originally?”

“Just outside it. But it’s the nearest hub when I need to stock the pantry.”

“More of a city guy myself,” I admitted.

“You don’t say.” He shot me a look that might’ve been spun from the thread of pure irony.

I tucked my scarf into my jacket, so the end wasn’t flapping in the sea breeze. We were walking away from the ocean, thankfully not on the cobbled street—which played hell with my boots—but on the sidewalk. Past the quaint steeples and roofs and other small-town cliches, a broad, green swathe of forest rose up, large and dark. I probably could’ve just walked toward it… but I hadn’t seen a map anywhere, in spite of the town feeling vaguely tourist friendly. In the AARP bus trip sense, specifically.

“Don’t feel embarrassed,” Wulfric said, giving a shrug of his great shoulders. He was a large man, but at all of 5’8”, most men seemed tall to me. “We’re used to lost souls in this town.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a lost soul.” I snorted. Then realized running to find my granny because of a nightmare was a very lost soul thing to do, in fact.

“Lost body, then. Every inch of you screaming that you know too much about French wine and fancy scarves.”

“My grandmother bought it for me.” I shot him a dirty look.

“It’s pretty,” he said with another flashing smile.

“Thank you. And I prefer Italian wine. Or Argentinian.”

“Delicious.” He licked his lips, leaving them wet and pink.

I shivered, though the sun was warm on my hair. My heartbeat sped up. I waited for the wooshing in my ears that meant I was about to experience a panic attack or something equally humiliating, but after a few moments that felt like hours, the sensation passed.

I really needed to get some fucking sleep. My senses were going haywire.

In the blessed silence that followed, we reached a T in the paved road, where it split along the edge of the forest. The wind picked up and blew my hair in front of my eyes, and when I was done struggling with it, Wulfric stood in front of me. His blue eyes were the same color as the bright autumn sky as he said, “Come on.” Then he beckoned me to follow him off the road and onto a small trail leading into the trees.

I took two steps and then hesitated. “Isn’t there a road?”

“If there was a road, you wouldn’t need me, would you?” He grinned, teeth glinting in the sunshine.

I took another few steps, the ground giving beneath the low heels of my boots. The forest suddenly seemed huge, pulsing with energy and life even though fall was trying to wrap its cold fingers around the world. Yellow and red leaves dappled the green canopy; the smell of evergreens and woodsmoke was stronger on the breeze than the salt of the sea out here.

Wulfric shifted his weight from foot to foot, then pulled a loose cigarette out of his pocket. How it’d survived in there, I had no idea, but it appeared reasonably intact. “Do you mind?” he asked.

I shook my head.