“I’ll miss you,” I say, sounding like a cartoon mouse.
Tears spring to life in her big, brown eyes. “Miss you too, kid.”
She presses her lips together as a single tear falls down her cheek.
For the next hour we don’t talk about anything too deep, we eat delicious pad thai and watch some stupid reality show, and before I know it it’s time to leave.
“You’re not going like tomorrow or anything right?” I ask at the door.
She smiles. “No. When we decide on dates and all that you’ll be the first to know.”
“Okay.”
We hug tightly and I never want to let go. I couldn’t imagine being friends with Aisha just a couple of years ago and now Ican’t imagine what my life will be like without her. Even though it might be what’s best for her, I hate that this is happening.
“Take care, Max,” Aisha says as we break apart and I move through the door. “And tell that asshat mate of yours that I love him and I’m going to keep calling even if he doesn’t answer.”
“I will.”
As I turn to go, a wave of nausea passes through me, and I lose my balance. Stumbling sideways, I have to catch myself from falling, propping myself up against the wall.
“Max? What’s wrong?” Aisha is in the hall with me, helping me stand. “What’s happening?”
The world is blurring and spinning. I feel drunk and high at the same time. I try to take a step but stumble again.
And then a piercing howl enters my brain and my vision turns white.
THE BLOOD WOLF SUMMONED
“Are you sure this is the right way?” Aisha asks, glancing at me from the driver’s seat of her Beamer, concern etched all over her face.
I wince, grimacing through the pain still occupying my brain. “Yes, just up ahead.”
We speed along a dark road, the dense foliage of the Rockefeller State Park on either side of us. The tires of Aisha’s car bumping over the dirt road I’ve directed us down.
“Not much farther,” I say, pressing into my seat. “He should be just up ahead.”
After my near collapse in the hall of Aisha’s building, we jumped in her car and sped north, up through the Bronx and Yonkers, and on toward Sleepy Hollow and Hawthorne. Luckily, I was able to locate the howl that had pierced my psyche, calling out for help, for me specifically.
Through the blinding pain I managed to catch a glimpse of a face, bloodied up and bruised. The roads were mostly clear at that time of night, so we made good time, thankfully. The drive which should have taken over an hour had only taken forty-five minutes.
“There!” I lurch up in my seat, pointing through the windscreen at the figure crumpled by the side of the road.
“Oh my moon gods,” Aisha says, pressing down on the gas to reach them faster. We skid to a stop, our headlights illuminatingthe path and the curled-over form on the side of the road. His shirt is torn, stained, the same dirt and blood spattering his jeans. He lifts his broken face as we leap from the vehicle.
“Omar!” I call, the pain in my head lessening with every step toward him.
His split lip curves upward into a pained smile. “Cuz, you came.”
Crouching, I lift his face and examine his wounds. “Who did this to you?”
“I was coming to tell you ... but they got to me first.”
“Who?!”
Omar tries to speak but ends up fighting a coughing fit instead.
“He needs medical help,” Aisha says. She’s standing behind me, backlit by the lights of her car. “We should get him back to the city.”
