She’s about 50 kilometers out of town when the rain starts. At first, it’s a gentle ablution, speckling the face guard of her helmet, curling the ends of her loose hair, tapping on the leather of her jacket. Bending roads, once dry, become the surface of an oily river. Overhead, the sky cracks open — a great, vaporous void aching to weep where once a blanket of stars and wisps of white had been. She should’ve seen it coming. The one night the shop didn’t need her and the first time in months she’d been caught up on school work. It was too much to ask for a lonesome albeit peaceful drive through the off-roads of upstate New York.
A chill runs up her spine. There are few things that scare Anca, but she’d heard her origin story too many times from Abraham to let go her fear of winding roads and rain-slick blacktop.
“Your dad had enough life in him to hand you to me. He didn’t even know me — I could’ve been the meanest bloody fuck in Lincolnshire, but I was his little girl’s only chance of survival. He died there in that car with your mother not long after.” His black eyes twinkle like black diamonds. “He took a chance on me, and I took a chance on you. You’re a part of this pack, now, Anc. A Viroth, and there’s some weight in that.”
The glare of her headlight catches the broadside of a car — and it looks like it’s taken a nose-dive into the ditch. She furrows her brow and slows down, heart thundering in her ears. It’s loud enough to drown out the sound of her Triumph’s engine. A spinning parasol and an elegant thumb greet her as she rolls to a stop. She seems all right — well, as all right as someone in her position can be.
“Hell of a place to park,” she remarks, pulling off her helmet and shaking her hair out. “I’m Anca.” He took a chance on me, and I took a chance on you.
Above the clouds, above the rain, there was a perfect night sky, a shining moon, pinprick bright stars. And between those stars there was also darkness. Endlessly there was darkness. A small swath of that negative space detached itself and fell through the rain, danced through the droplets and turned to mist as it plunged towards its intended fate. Thalra watched the light approach, unconcerned, and inhaled deeply as a piece of the night sky swirled around her, letting it coat the inside of her lungs. It didn’t do much. Only bled into her hair, from white to black. It covered the tips of her ears, giving them the illusion of roundness. Then finally, it flowed into her eyes, and for a moment Thalra had to blink back an acidic burning. Now a more human looking pair of eyes stared out towards the approaching vehicle, dark brown with black pupils, a less alarming sight for a passing pedestrian.
When the motorcyclist came to a stop in the road, she let her arm fall, her heels bouncing against her thigh. She couldn’t help it, she laughed at the woman’s first remark, and took a few slow steps over until she was standing right beside the motorcycle and its rider who introduced herself as Anca.
“Thalra,” she replied as she angled the parasol so that it hovered above the both of them. Anca was already soaking wet, and soon Thalra would be too, but if she wanted to have any kind of conversation, it would be better to not do it with the rain pelting into her newly mystified eyes.
“Shouldn’t your first question be to ask if I’m alright? I could be seriously injured and in shock. I could have a friend over there in the ditch breathing his last wheezing breaths as we speak.” She schooled her expression into a pout, furrowed brows and slightly pursed lips. But she didn’t even look back at her abandoned car, making it fairly clear that her attention was here, and not on an imaginary dying friend. Her gaze glanced down to the humming motorcycle and she leaned down to place a tentative hand on the leather, feeling the vibration of the engine through the metal frame. She was pretending like she was nervous, like she’d never been on the back of a motorcycle before.
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