When Jason returned home, he was shocked to see that nine hours had passed. It was late afternoon. His phone was flashing. He grabbed it and hurried to the kitchen for a large glass of water. Then he rinsed his face in the sink and dried it on his shirt.
The phone showed a number 2 on his voicemail icon. He pressed the appropriate buttons to retrieve the messages.
The first message was Rocky asking him to call her.
He opened the refrigerator and took out a soda while the second message started.
"Hey Jason. It's Becca," she said.
Her voice was shaking and he could tell she was smoking a cigarette. Something he hadn't seen her do, but had smelled on her. The message continued, "I'm going to take some time off of school and go home. This has all been too weird. I'm worried about you. I don't know what is going on, but I can't stay here as long as that man is in town. I just felt I needed to tell you goodbye. I'm not sure why."
It was a relief to him now that things were as they were. He had no idea what James was capable of. He saved the message, but didn't intend to call Becca back. He thought she would appreciate the space, especially since they didn't know each other very well. The truth would be too much for her and lying would only add to the weirdness. There was a saved message, the one from Ms. Hughes. He'd forgotten all about it.
Could the man she mentioned have been James? If so, it disturbed him to have been found halfway across the country in only a few days.
He wanted to call Ms. Hughes and then Rocky as soon as possible.
Jason pressed a series of buttons to call his old landlady. It rang several times. She was older and he thought it might take her a minute to reach the phone. She only had one and it was in her kitchen. Maybe she was outside pruning her shrubs or cutting flowers. Then a man answered.
"Hello."
Jason hesitated.
"Um, Hi. My name is Jason. I used to be a tenant of Ms. Hughes. Is she there please?"
There was a pause before the answer.
"This is Andy. I'm Ms. Hughes son-in-law. She passed away a few days ago."
Jason's heart knotted in his throat.
"What? What happened?"
"We don't know, exactly. Her heart failed. It looks like there was a break in. Police are looking into it."
He was surprised by a tear that escaped his eye and thought hard about what to say next.
"Andy, I'm sorry. Please pass on my condolences. She was always kind to me."
"Thanks," Andy said. "Was there something else you needed?"
He remembered the message, "a man came by here". He remembered the old woman on the bus and how she'd smelled of death. He remembered thinking she was ripe for the picking. Maybe James had thought the same thing of Ms. Hughes, but she wasn't eaten. Heart failure. Maybe he scared her to death. Jason shook off the notion.
"No. I was just calling to chat, to let her know I'd settled in my new place. She'd left me a message to check on me after I moved away. I just got around to returning her call. Again, I'm so sorry."
He disconnected the conversation and stared at the wall, taking deep breaths to collect himself. Then he dialed Rocky. When she answered, his anxiety came back and he started talking as if he couldn't hold the words in.
"Rocky, things are bad. James is not like us. He's trying to end all three of us, I know it. He attacked me this morning. The site in our dreams? The place where the family was, where the wolves watched? It's here. We need to figure out a plan. He can change at will..."
"Whoa, whoa, slow down," she said. "He can change at will? He attacked you?"
Jason took in a deep breath. "Yes."
"Are you hurt?" she asked.
"No. Something happened. Something interfered."
"What?"
"I don't know. Maybe that goddess he mentioned."
"Where was this?"
"Come get me. We have a lot to talk about," Jason said.
"Ok. I'm leaving work now."
The sun went down before she got there. Jason sat on the front steps and watched. He thought about James. He felt an ounce of understanding and compassion for the man up until he'd spoken to Ms. Hughes' son-in-law. If James had killed that old woman in a search for Jason, he could neither forgive himself, nor his pursuer.