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It was so dark, the road was barely visible. Apparently, installing street lights in the middle of the woods wasn’t worth the taxpayer money. Allison could barely see the trees flying past them even with her face pressed against the window. She was just glad she wasn’t the one driving. If she had been, they probably would’ve hit a deer or something by now. They’d never lived anywhere where deer were a problem before.
“Your father is a highly respected private security consultant,” her mother was saying, “and a federally licensed firearms dealer. It's not exactly a nine-to-five office job. The hours are always going to be like that.”
Allison sighed, eyes sliding up to the moon where it showed through the foliage at random intervals, flashing like a strobe light with their speed. It looked full.
“I get it. It’s just…” She shrugged pointlessly; her mother wasn’t looking at her to see it. “It's kind of weird when he takes off in the middle of the night, rushing out with duffel bags full of automatic weapons.”
Her mother sighed—the same sigh she always did when Allison asked a question she had no intention of answering. It sounded more tired than usual, though. Like maybe she wanted to answer this time. It was past midnight, they were both exhausted from driving so long, and if ever there were a time for her mother’s tongue to slip, this would be it.
Her mother took her eyes off the road.
Allison saw the pale figure loom out of the dark only a split-second before impact, no time to yell or grab the wheel. The thump and judder of the van hitting flesh was almost as shocking as the way her mother shouted, more panic in her voice than Allison had ever heard there before.
They skidded to a stop. There was one moment of stunned breathlessness and then they were flinging themselves out of the vehicle.
What they had hit was a woman, probably in her twenties. She had been flung past the scope of the van's headlights so it was hard to see, but her hair was dark and her skin was pale. Even in just the moonlight, the blood on her face stood out.
“Oh my god.” Allison dropped down beside her. She reached out and then stopped, hands shaking. “Oh my god, mom. Is she—”
The woman moaned.
“Move.”
Allison was pushed out of the way as her mother knelt down in her place, hands quick and sure. Her cursory examination drew more noises of pain from the prone woman, who was starting to stir. Not dead, at least, thank god.
She opened her eyes. They were pale, and Allison couldn't look away from them.
“Ma'am,” her mother said, “you've been in an accident. My name is Victoria Argent and I'm assessing your injuries, then I'm going to take you to a hospital to get you—”
Her hands moved from the woman's head and neck down to her torso, reaching for the hem of her shirt.
The woman let out a strangled cry. In a burst of panicked motion, she threw the hands off of her and tried to scramble backward. The combination of her injuries and Allison’s legs being in the way meant that she didn’t get far, but the “don’t touch me” message was loud and clear. In the scuffle, Allison could’ve sworn, just for a second, that the woman’s eyes glowed gold.
Her mom wasn’t phased. She gave the woman her sternest of looks, the kind she gave Allison when she needed to shape up and behave herself immediately or else.
“Young lady, you’re injured,” she said. “You need help. I strongly suggest you let me help you.”
The woman cringed away again, but her back was pressed against Allison’s shins and there was nowhere for her to go. Her hand came up to press against her stomach, stained dark with blood.
Still, she forced out through gritted teeth, “I—I’m fine.”
“I really don’t think you are,” Allison said. “That’s a lot of blood. Please, this is our fault, just let us—”
“It’s not.” The woman listed to the side, away from the support of Allison’s legs, and curled in on herself, protecting her core. “I was already… It was a mountain lion.”
Allison couldn’t help but turn, wide eyes scanning the forest on all sides. God, why couldn’t they have stayed in San Francisco? San Francisco didn’t have mountain lions mauling people on the side of the road. She looked back to find her mother with a strange, pinched look on her face.
“A mountain lion,” she repeated.
“I’m fine,” the woman insisted. “I’ll be fine, you should just—”
Her mom smiled. It didn’t look right, too tight and cold. “You really should let me take you back into town.”
“No, I’ll be fine, I don’t need—”
The woman was only getting more distressed. All that moving couldn’t be doing her injuries any good.
“Mom,” Allison put in, shifting on her feet, “why don’t you go get the first aid kit out of the trunk? I’ll stay with her.”
The look her mother gave her was sharp enough to sting, but Allison didn’t avert her eyes. After a strained moment, her mother nodded. She gave the woman another careful once-over and rose to her feet. As soon as she’d turned back toward the van, Allison dropped to her knees.
“I’m sorry for my mom,” she said, offering up the best smile she could manage under the circumstances; she was still feeling pretty shaky. The smell of blood was bright in her nose and every noise in the underbrush made her jump. “She can be a little intense, even when she means well. If you won’t let us help, can you at least tell me your name?”
The woman’s blood-smeared face twisted up in pain as she tried, one more time, to push herself upright. Her labored breathing was loud in the emptiness of the night. Allison reached out, the desire to help overwhelming, and her pale eyes locked onto the outstretched hand until Allison took it back.
Finally, she said, “Laura. My name is Laura.”
“Laura.” Allison tried again to smile and hoped this one was more convincing. “Okay, Laura, you still look like you’re bleeding pretty bad. So I’m gonna go see what’s taking mom so long with that kit, alright? I’ll be right back.”
Without thinking, Allison put her hand on Laura’s calf. She froze, expecting Laura to jerk away from her the way she had her mom. But Laura’s struggles stopped all at once. There was that flash again, bright and gold and impossible in the darkness.
Laura looked up at her with a strained smile of her own. “Take some advice, okay? From me?”
Allison nodded, breath held.
“Stay out of the woods.”
It should’ve been comical in its obviousness. But something about the intensity of Laura’s delivery killed any potential for a laugh. It sent a chill down Allison’s spine, raised the hairs on her arms.
She took her hand back and tucked it against her stomach. Unsettled, she retreated to the van, around back to where her mother had the hatch up. The first aid kit was still tucked behind the cases of guns, though.
The open cases of guns.
“Mom, what are you doing?” Allison whispered.
Her mother was critically examining a Beretta M9. “Allison,” she said, just as quietly, “I need you to trust me. Now isn’t the time for questions.”
It never was. But chambering a round in the face of an injured and incapacitated woman on a dark backroad wasn’t something that Allison could just swallow without comment.
She didn’t have time to object, anyway. The crunch of underbrush resounded through the forest, branches snapping like gunshots. Her mother all but shoved her aside in her haste to round the van. The spot where Laura had been was empty, nothing but churned earth darkened with blood. Leaves rustled to the east. Allison was halfway to the tree-line when an actual gunshot blew past her.
Ears ringing, Allison swung back to stare in disbelief. Her mother was steely-eyed and grim-faced. She fired two more shots into the woods before deciding her prey was too far gone. Lowering the gun, she turned to her shaken daughter and said, “I have to make a call to your father. Then we’ll talk.”
“Mom,” Allison croaked. “Why would you—? What the hell was—?”
“That,” her mother said, “was Laura Hale. A werewolf. And the answer to many of your questions.”
Allison watched her retreat to the van again in a daze. Her mother’s phone call sounded muffled and distant, the strange words refusing to register. She turned to the woods, the broken branches and blood-stained dirt. There was a bullet lodged in a tree trunk.
She tried to fill in the blanks of her life, to let all the pieces fall into place, but all she could think of were gold eyes.