I remind myself that I don’t care about those kinds of details, and then I take off, running toward this California she insists is full of angry people. It didn’t occur to me until that very moment that I have no idea why she’s pointing me this direction. But now I’m determined to figure it out. Given all her bargaining and arguing about my purpose here, she must have a reason, and I doubt it’ll be something I like. For all I know, California’s actually full of delightful people she thinks will change my mind about humanity. Perhaps none of them are mentally ill.
But the joke’s on her. I don’t like anyone, delightful or not.
8
Whitney
I feel a little guilty about directing Xolotl at California, given that the populations in California are even more dense, but I told him the truth—it is full of people. And most importantly, it’s farther from my family. That was my main goal in keeping him out of Utah and that entire area. Most of my family and friends live there. If we’d gone to the east, we’d have been heading toward Houston, which is where everyone else I care about lives.
Sorry, California, but you’re riddled with earthquakes and full of morally bankrupt movie producers anyway, so I’m not that sorry.
As a side benefit, the weather’s gotten nicer with every day that passes. Traveling at the end of November in Utah wasn’t fun, but the desert was fairly warm. The bad news is that Xolotl can sense where people are, and he’s headed right down I-80 toward Reno, and then we’ll presumably continue on to Sacramento. I originally intended to try to make him wander around in the desert until he grew tired, but that appears to be pointless.
“What does make you tired?” I ask. “And where does our power come from?” I feel like calling it our power might make him more likely to share.
Not that he can answer me when he’s in his horse form.
I shouldn’t have asked, because he glanced over his big black shoulder, narrowing his eyes. I shouldn’t have asked about making him tired. He’s smart—he’ll realize I’m asking about his weaknesses, and that’s hardly the attitude of a good champion. Then again, he knows I’m not keen on the job, hence the training.
I still don’t have a good plan for how to use my time.
Convincing someone who kills people for both fun and power that life is valuable and he should cease and desist in fulfilling his one purpose is going to be hard. My greatest idea so far is ice cream. The growling of my stomach has probably short-circuited my higher-level thinking. I’m opening a package of powdered sugar donuts—a popular fuel choice for every road warrior for decades—when it hits me.
Does he even eat?
I haven’t seen him eat grass in his horse form. He hasn’t shown a speck of interest in all the food I took at that convenience store. It almost seems like. . .he doesn’t eat at all.
Shoot.
Now I’m back to no plan to convince him that life is good. Was that really all I had? Food? What else is there? Puppy videos? Scrolling TikTok? Going for a run is fun to some people—lunatics like this guy, probably—but we’re already doing that, and he’s as homicidal as ever. I see him shifting toward the cars on the road, and I know he’s contemplating the deal we made and whether he really has to honor it.
“Don’t even think about killing people. I’ll notice if cars start swerving and crashing.” I watch the people driving the passing cars, creeping along the boring stretch of freeway, no idea that their lives are in imminent danger from a lunatic. “Hey, do you eat?”
He stops abruptly, almost throwing me over his head. His shift still takes me by surprise, and I fall hard on the sand underneath us, landing on my already-bruised bottom.
“Ow. That was rude.”
He clears his throat.
I stand up, glaring. “What?” I wave at the tiny green road sign. “We’re still twenty miles from Reno.” The freeway exits are becoming more and more populated. Instead of just a gas station, there are a few fast food places and some other things. Factories. Warehouses. I saw a sign for a shipping center earlier.
“You keep asking me questions.” He glares. “In case it hasn’t occurred to your tiny human brain, I can’t speak to you when I’m in my horse form.” His eyes are flashing.
“Right,” I say. “I thought you could think about all that stuff and maybe answer me when you shift back.” I force a smile. “See? Like right now.”
“It’s not any of your concern where my power comes from or what exhausts me.” He glares. “As my champion, you should want to defend me, not find a good time to attack.”
“I’m thinking of how best to defend you. How can I do that if I don’t know when you’re vulnerable?”
“I’m never vulnerable.”
“Surely that’s not true.” I can’t help my smile. “It wouldn’t be very balanced if it was, and we all know how you feel about that.”
“I wake only occasionally, so I don’t need weaknesses.”
But that means his sleep is his weakness. “Shouldn’t a good commander know what might send you back to sleep?” I arch one eyebrow. “Or is that not part of my training?”
“Your training does matter.” He looks around. “This is a good place to start. Excellent suggestion.”
