I dragged my palms down my coat, a nervous habit I'm used to, then glanced to the side, looking at the man who had just saved my life. His eyes were focused on the road, like I wasn't in the car. I twisted around to peek at the back seat, making sure my backpack was still there with my new laptop inside.
I still couldn't process what just happened. Was something really going to attack me back there if he hadn't shown up?
A shaky breath escaped my lips.
I turned back to the window, watching the trees blur past and wondering if whatever had been out there could run fast enough to catch up with us.
I looked at the rear window and saw nothing but darkness and swirling snow caught in the red glow of the taillights.
No glowing eyes or hulking shape bounding after us. Just an empty road disappearing behind us.
"Thank you," I said quietly, shock still fogging my brain. "This could have ended up pretty badly." I try to smile, but I can't manage it.
He didn't respond, and silence settled over the car again. I finally relaxed into the leather seat, feeling the warmth surrounding it. The interior smelled expensive. Something woodsy, maybe cedar with a hint of sandalwood and leather. The dashboard glowed with soft blue light, and the heating had my frozen fingers tingling as they thawed.
"But, you weren't actually serious about that lycanthropy thing, right? Whatever was back there could have been something entirely different." I blurted out. "It could have been a coyote, a bear, or a wolf, of course. A normal, regular one. Lycanthropy isn't really a thing, more like folklore, mythology, or something, and I don't believe in it. You just scared me for a moment there."
He didn't answer, just eased off the gas slightly as we rounded a bend. The car handled it perfectly, smoothly, and controlled despite the icy conditions.
His lack of response and indifference didn't get me frustrated. In fact, he reminded me of Janet, my mother. Late mother.
She hated when I spoke, hated when I asked questions, hated everything about me. She would ignore me most of the time, acting like I was an illusion. Maybe that's why the sickness took her. She never acted sane anyway.
I was used to it.
"You don't have to believe it." He suddenly spoke, taking my attention. "In fact, don't. Your life would be easier that way."
The stranger had dark blue eyes, I noticed now.
"What does that mean?" I ask.
"It means it doesn't matter what you believe. If something is real, then it's true. But you can create a safe mindset and choose to believe that it is not real, so to you, it won't be true."
"That sounds complicated," I mutter.
"What isn't?" He inputs.
"Look, I'm being serious here. I'm grateful that you saved my life, but now I'm stuck in a car with someone who believes that humans can shift into wolves — that's ridiculous! It's like someone saying Twilight was based on a true story."
"Maybe it was." He replied, utterly unbothered.
"So you believe in vampires too?" I threw my hands up. "I'm sorry, are you a researcher or something? No offence, but they tend to get really into this stuff and take it way too seriously."
"Could you tell me the difference between a regular wolf and a lycan?" He glanced at me briefly.
"Um, wolves are just... wolves? And apparently, lycans can shift into humans."
His lips twitched slightly, like what I'd said amused him.
"No, the difference is that a wolf is a mindless beast. If it sees prey, it would attack. No suspense. No strategy." He calmly tells me, like someone who'd explained it many times before. "A lycan, on the other hand, is a person who can think, plan, and wait. They can follow you around, waiting to see if you will wander into the woods out of curiosity or back into the park. Lycans toy with their prey, they observe, and then they kill."
A chill ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. What the hell was this man saying, and why did it sound so believable? This wasn't real. It shouldn't be.
My phone pings in my coat pocket, and I startle at the sound before taking it out.
It was a text from Benny, my ex. Again.
Benny: Where are you? We need to talk?
Me: No, Benny, we don't.
"And sometimes, we encounter certain types of people." The stranger continued. "Obsessive. Territorial. Possessive. Toxic. We think they're just bad or abusive. Maybe they are. But what if they're not? What if they're one of them?" He paused. "Wolves are territorial, you know."
"You're trying to scare me."
"I'm telling you what I believe." He corrected.
"If all of this is true, then how do you know so much of it?" I eyed him warily.
He taps his index finger on the steering wheel twice.
"Research."
"So, you are a researcher?"
"No, I'm in finance." He smirks. "I'm Alistair Reed."
"Chloe Wilson," I tell him. "And I'm unemployed, but I majored in accounting if that helps."
My phone lights up with another text from Benny.
Benny: Who are you with? Where are you? I told you to stay home.
I squint at the text.
Me: Did you go to my place?
He started typing, but the bubbles disappeared. My phone began ringing—his FaceTime call was coming through. I declined it.
Benny: Where the fuck are you?
Me: Get the hell away from my apartment or I'm calling the cops on you again.
I switched my phone to silent and shoved it back into my pocket.
"So, according to your research, obsessive and possessive people are lycans?" I ask
"Are you asking out of curiosity, or because you're starting to wonder if the person bothering you might be one?"
He asks. The Christmas lights from distant houses grew more frequent. Civilization. Safety.
"What? No, Benny's not a lycan, he's just... troublesome. You've just brainwashed me into being interested in the whole lycanthropy lore."
Alistair chuckled, one hand leaving the console to push hair back from his face, the other steady on the wheel.
"I still owe you for the window," I reminded him, guilt eating away at me despite everything. "I'll pay for it, I promise. Just give me your information and I'll give you mine so we can work out the details once you get a quote."
"How are you going to pay if you're unemployed?" He asks.
"Well, I do freelance work often."
He hummed thoughtfully.
"Well, you can pay." He agreed. "But not with money."
My head snaps to him.
"Excuse me?"
"That window is custom-made. Costs about four thousand dollars to replace." He said it casually, like he was discussing the weather. "Do you have four thousand dollars?"
"Do I — no! But still, I am not paying with anything but money!" I give him a disgusting look, suddenly disappointed in him.
"I don't want payments." He took a turn onto a larger road, one that actually had streetlights. "I want help."
I ease a bit.
"Help?" I ask. "With what?"
"My secretary had to quit work for personal reasons, I need help for a while before I find a replacement."
He merged onto what I recognised as the highway leading back toward the city.
"For how long?" I ask.
"Three weeks maybe, or a month." He replies.
"Oh, okay. I thought — never mind. Thank you for being generous. Can I get your contact information?"
He reached for a sleek black phone from the cup holder and handed it to me.
"Put your number in." He said.
I did that and then texted myself so I could save his number. I saved my number as "Chloe–Faye Wilson" on his phone.
He drove past a gas station and then accelerated onto the highway. We finally made it back to the city.
"I can take the bus back home if you drop me at the nearest station," I said, returning his phone.
"Sure."
"Every conversation that happened in this car is going to replay in my head for a week," I said with a quiet laugh.
"The way I see it, it will make you more aware of things you've been overlooking," Alistair says.
"Like what?"
"Like actions. Behaviours. Clues,"
"I'm not going to turn paranoid because of this. I can't just start suspecting everyone of being a mythical beast because we had a discussion about lycans or because you think they exist."
"Sometimes there are anomalies, Chloe." He said my name like a prayer, smooth and deliberate. "Some things don't fit into neat categories. Some creatures shouldn't exist, but they do. And most people dismiss patterns as coincidence."
"You're crazy. I can't believe I threw a rock at the window of the one person in this entire city who wants to convince me that werewolves exist, and I was being stalked by one. "
"You were being stalked by someone who is a werewolf," he corrected. "But you don't have to believe me."
We pulled up at a bus station—surprisingly, the one closest to my apartment.
"Thank you for saving me tonight, Alistair, but you really need to stop with this stuff."
"Fine," he agreed easily, tilting his wrist to look at the time.
"Great." I reached for my backpack in the back seat, grabbed it, and pushed open my door. "Contact me when you want me to start." I stepped out into the cold.
I closed the door and waved at him through the tinted glasses, certain that he could see me, and then slipped on my backpack as I jogged to catch the bus.
The whole ride back to my apartment was me trying not to think about everything Alistair said, and I ended up analysing his words anyway.
In a twisted way, his words made sense. I hated that they did. But that didn't mean that lycans existed. What is this, Teen Wolf?
"This is so stupid," I mumbled to myself as I reached my door. I fished my keys from my pocket and got the door open. Once I was inside, I took out my phone and hung my coat. I dumped my backpack on the table, deciding I would charge it tomorrow after a night's rest.
I take off my boots and plop into my bed, exhaustion crashing over me.
I rolled onto my back and held my phone up. Three more texts from Benny.
Benny: Come on, Chloe. I said I was sorry.
Benny: I told you not to talk to strangers. You never listened to me.
Benny: Stop fucking ignoring me.
I sighed and tossed my phone over my head onto the pillow. Benny and I had dated for five months, but we'd broken up after he tried to hit me for talking to another guy. Everything dissolved after that. But he was too obsessive to let it go.
Wait.
I scrambled across the bed and grabbed my phone again.
I told you not to talk to strangers.
How did Benny even know I was with someone? I hadn't spoken to him in five days.
A lycan, on the other hand, is a person who can think, plan, and wait. They can follow you around.
"No, no, no. You can't think about what that weird man said." I scolded myself.
No way. Benny can't be a lycan. Lycans aren't real.
And sometimes we encounter certain types of people. Obsessive. Territorial. Possessive. Toxic. We think they're just bad or abusive. Maybe they are. But what if they're not? What if they're one of them?
Wolves are a bit territorial, you know.
My chest plummets. This is crazy. It's entirely unreasonable.
Then I thought about Benny's texts, always sent late at night. The way he knew where I'd be even when I didn't post about it. The strange scratching sounds outside my apartment last week that I'd blamed on raccoons.
Actions. Behaviours. Clues.
Benny is not a werewolf.
People dismiss most patterns as coincidences.
Fuck.