Ask Her Devil for Help

The desert night was alive with the hum of Clauvena's car engine as she navigated the lonely highway in Arizona. The full moon cast eerie shadows across the landscape, adding to the solitude her mind tried desperately to distance itself from. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles turning white as her mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts.

Tonight was supposed to be a date, but as she drove, she couldn't shake the feeling of reluctance that gnawed at her insides. Why was she going? Was it just to fulfill a promise, or did she genuinely want to be there? Maybe she would have been better off staying home, curled up with a book and a cup of tea or perhaps going through her lines again for the upcoming rehearsals. So many questions, so many thoughts swirled in one mind; hers, leaving her everything but calm.

A sudden pang in her stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten anything before leaving the house.

Seriously? She sighed, cursing herself. Who is this man for goodness' sake that she was ready to give up her meals for? She wondered in her head.

Again, her stomach grumbled. It wasn‘t just hunger, was it? Clauvena sighed again, knowing there was something else that nagged at the edges of her consciousness, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

She tried to remember her date‘s facial features again. He was fair-skinned, she recalled. A generic feature quite right. Bearded, like a lot of betas, tall like every other man compared to her, and her thoughts froze immediately.

Suddenly, something came at her from the outside..

It came like a sudden thud, first sending electric jilts that fried her brain for a millisecond before they booted back on.

Then, a large object came hurtling past her windshield, quickly and almost unseen.

Clauvena's heart pumped and then pounded. Her instincts kicked in. She slammed on the brakes before she could process what she thought she had seen.

Was it a bird? Was it a tree, a creature? Goddess no, was it a wolf? Clauvena‘s heart raced, the smell of burning rubber melting the air as she sat still in ragged gasps.

For a moment, she sat there. She tried to make sense of what had happened.

Did she hit something? Or did something fly on its own past her?

It couldn‘t have been a wolf, it would growl Immediately wouldn't it?; she shook the thoughts off. There was no way a small wolf could be faster than an Audi racing 100 miles per hour, I mean why would Werewolves bother to build arms if they could run faster than them?

Slowly, she unbuckled her seatbelt, paused, and then sighed again. Clauvena stepped out of the car, the cool desert air wafting over her skin.

With her heart still pounding in her chest, she cautiously approached the front of her car, her eyes scanning the darkened road for any sign of the mysterious object that had come hurtling toward her.

But there was nothing. The full moon bore her witness, even if the night couldn‘t be trusted.

The road was clear, with nothing but dust and the wind circling itself around her and brushing her silver Wolf hair.

The desert seemed to hold its breath, the only sound was the faint whisper of the wind as it danced among the dunes.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, that the sudden appearance of the object and its swift departure were not mere coincidences. There was an air of mystery hanging over the desert path, and Clauvena somehow felt obligated to figure out what it was.

Another slow sigh escaped her breath, this time harder and louder. She wasn‘t ready to let it slide as nothing. This wasn‘t nothing, she whispered to herself.

Clauvena returned to her car and retrieved a flashlight from the glove compartment.

Holding it tightly in her hand, she began to scour the area, searching for any signs of the object that had flown past her windshield.

She pointed the torch at the windshield first, illuminating the tinted glass. It reflected at her nothing but the full moon and the sharp glow of the torch. But then, she noticed something – a scratch. It was almost invisible until the flashlight shone a third time at the windshield.

It wasn‘t her imagination, Clauvena turned quickly around. Something had indeed jumped on her windshield. There was evidence; a scratch, a marking. It was long, sharp, and almost vicious-like.

She moved further away from the car, from the road, her flashlight illuminating every corner her eyes fixated on. There on the sand, she saw strange markings – a series of symbols that seemed to shimmer in the moonlight.

Clauvena knelt by the first one, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns to decipher what they were. Footprints? She wondered.

“Are you lost?!” Suddenly, a voice yelled from behind her, cutting through the silence and the night.

She spun around immediately, jolting from her skin to flash her torch directly at the direction the voice came from.

“Do you have car trouble?!” the voice asked again.

Car trouble? Clauvena repeated in her head, the features of a tall, lean wolf, his features obscured by the shadows cast by the moon peering into her eyes from a few feet away.

"I... I'm not sure," she stammered, her heart racing in her chest.

Many thoughts ran through her head just by looking at him. Where did he come from? Was she safe? Was he a carjacker?

"I…I…I was driving when something... something flew at my car. I thought I hit it, but when I got out, there was…there was nothing there."

Clauvena tried to explain only to find the wolf‘s eyes narrowing, his gaze almost intense as he studied her.

“You took a risk going this route, Miss…it‘s not safe driving along this highway on your own,” he said.

Before Clauvena could respond, the sight of approaching headlights pierced the darkness, leaving on the desert path a harsh glow; one harsher than the full moon.

With a start, she realized it was another car, speeding down the highway towards them. She returned her eyes to where the wolf stood, just to find them and her flashlight staring at nothing and no one.

The wolf had vanished as if he hadn‘t been there just seconds ago.

Clauvena's heart raced even faster, the beam of her flashlight illuminating the empty desert around her. The sudden appearance and disappearance of the wolf only added to the unease.

With trembling fingers, she hurried back to her car, her mind buzzing with more questions than she had stepped out of the car with.

Who was the wolf? Was he a ghost? Did she conjure him from her imagination? Why did he approach her? What exactly did she run down or had come hurtling past her windshield?

The questions raised her mind while the oncoming headlights gained in on her.

It‘s not safe driving along this highway on your own – the wolf‘s words rang in her head again.

Clauvena hurried for her keys, her breath hasting and her gasps becoming more rapid.

Before she could think of it, she ignited her engine. It roared to life and shifted her attention toward that of instinct, fear, and curiosity. They pressed down at her like a weapon aimed at her throat.

The accelerator kicked on completely, but her thoughts were on what was to come.

Celebrities – a slow but long sigh escaped Morgan Winters‘ lips as he sat at the edge of the restaurant.

His nerves were all on him, palpable in the way his fingers drummed anxiously against the polished wood surface.

Time and time again he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, adjusting his tie for what felt like the hundredth time. He wanted to look good. Good enough and presentable to his crush. But the wait for her was crushing him. The nerves racked him. His legs bounced up and down beneath the table more times than he could count.

He had been seated there for more than an hour, glancing at his watch, looking over the shoulders of other patrons, waiting for his date to arrive. But neither the ticking of the second hand nor the echoes of the night did anything to hasten her arrival.

His palms had gone so wet from waiting, slick with sweat, that he needed to wipe them time after time, hoping if by chance she walked in, she wouldn‘t notice his apprehension.

Morgan was impatient for her to arrive but he was still scared about her actually showing up. What if it all went sour? What if she ended up not liking him?

It was a dinner date after all. No commitments made, no promises, just dinner. He adjusted his tie again and stole a second glance at the entrance.

Morgan Winters was a wolf of many irks but when it came to confidence, he wasn't going to be the face gracing any poster a movie studio would paste on their billboards. Far from it, actually. He was the type to overthink every word, every gesture, every moment. And tonight, with Clauvena, it felt like the stakes were higher than ever before.

Then, she arrived. Stunning, as always, her silver hair caught the soft glow of the chandeliers the minute she stepped into the place. It was just like the pictures said, Morgan‘s jaws dropped. He saw her like he had pictured her to be, and perhaps more.

She was a star, but taking a glimpse at her, Morgan knew this star was different. He could feel it, from the minute she stepped in and right to the moment she spotted him.

Heads turned, whispers fluttered through the air, and Morgan felt a surge of both excitement and nervousness as she drew nearer. He could smell her as she approached his table; his and only his.

“Sorry, I‘m late.” she greeted, a warm smile emerging from the corner of her lips. “I struck a deer on the road.”

Morgan chuckled. “A deer? That‘s a new one.” He chuckled again then choked on his wine.

“I‘m sorry…I‘m sorry…” he swiftly apologized.

“I…uh…I…uh…I‘m the…Morgan Winters.” he hastily stretched his arm towards her.

*I know.” she smiled, taking the seat opposite him. She snubbed his hand gesture, instead preferring to reach for the wine glass in front of her. Clauvena proceeded to take a long, deliberate sip from it before wandering her gaze around the restaurant.

“I‘m glad you could make it.” Morgan chimed, hoping to initiate some conversation. But Clauvena said nothing to reply to him. Her eyes instead settled on the menu that sat on the table. She reached for it.

“So how have you been?” She choked, coughing out some wine from her throat.

“Uh…good…good…” he nodded, stretching his handkerchief towards her. “…how about you? Gearing for the premiere of Blue Dagger, I hope?”

Clauvena collected the handkerchief, smiled, and nodded. She dabbed delicately at the wine dribble on her chin, her eyes farther away from Morgan. Perhaps the topic didn‘t interest her, he thought. What celebrity wouldn‘t want to talk about their upcoming project? He wondered.

Morgan tried to switch topics, hoping to stir some reaction from her. He asked about her day, about her interests, or if she would like to order something from the menu. But all her responses were either monosyllabic or none existent. Her gaze continued to wander aimlessly, preferring to look elsewhere rather than at him.

“I‘m looking forward to seeing it, you know…” Morgan tried again, hoping to get her eyes on him. “Blue Dagger…” he quipped. “Saw the teasers…and I could tell you‘d kill it.”

But Clauvena said nothing. She only sipped from the wine, her lips pressing together in a thin line. He watched as she stole quick glances at him, looking away as soon as he met her eyes on him. Her wolfisms spoke volumes.

She went on with the antics until the waiter showed up to distract her. Even he was able to get her attention better than Morgan could. She smiled at him, and if that night couldn‘t get any more awkward, she declined to order anything from the menu. Rather, she politely requested the restroom.

The restroom? Winters prodded in his head. He wanted to be angry but couldn‘t. She had only been there for a few minutes. How could she want to use a restroom that soon? Or was she trying to escape the dinner date through the restroom card? Even the waiter was surprised. His reaction said so.

Morgan watched Clauvena as she excused herself to the restroom. They said he was a boring champ, but he never believed it. You outdid yourself, Morgan! He cussed offering a forced smile to the waiter. The poor champ too excused himself.

So this was how his story would be told uh? From one doomed relationship to another, except this was yet to be a relationship. He couldn‘t build any connection with her, no matter what he said or how much he tried to make the evening about her.

He had built up this evening in his mind ever since they formed some sort of a click on the dating site. He imagined this was a chance to finally connect with his celebrity crush, only to find himself ironically floundering in a sea of awkwardness. Never meet your heroes, Morgan quickly drank from his wine glass.

With a heavy sigh, he leaned back in the chair, his gaze drifting idly about, once again waiting for his blonde crush to show up. But the minutes only stretched. They stretched into more minutes then into what felt like an eternity. She didn‘t show up. The restroom was her get-out-of-jail-free card, and she used it.

Morgan chuckled. It was a déjà vu wasn‘t it? They always walked away, without any reason. They always left, leaving him to feel like the failure he was. Again, he couldn‘t connect with a werewolf that was seated across him in person.