Chapter 33: Shelter From The Storm

The first drops of rain fell as they stumbled from the temple grounds.

The downpour drenched them within seconds, turning the dirt path into slick mud.

"Perfect," Kane muttered, his legs buckling as pain shot through his side. "Just perfect."

Cyrus caught him before he hit the ground, his strong arm wrapping around Kane’s waist.

"Lean on me," Cyrus commanded, his voice barely audible over the storm.

Kane wanted to protest, but his ribs screamed with every step, and blood from a forehead gash stung his eyes in the rain.

He sagged against Cyrus’s shoulder, feeling the dragon’s unnatural heat through their soaked clothes.

"Your car better have heated seats," Kane gasped as they navigated the treacherous path.

Lightning cracked overhead, illuminating Cyrus’s face—jaw clenched, eyes forward, utterly focused on getting them to safety.

Rain streamed down his sharp features, plastering his dark hair to his forehead.

The Mercedes loomed through the curtain of rain—black, hulking, and blessedly intact.

"You look terrible," Cyrus said, helping Kane into the passenger seat.

"You’re one to talk," Kane snorted, wincing as he settled into the seat. "Your fancy suit’s in tatters after the whole dragon transformation."

Cyrus glanced down at his once-immaculate clothing.

The expensive fabric hung in shreds across his chest and shoulders, exposing patches of skin still faintly glowing with residual power.

"An unfortunate casualty," he muttered, sliding into the driver’s seat and peeling off what remained of his jacket.

Water pooled beneath them both, soaking into the leather.

Kane twisted around, reaching into the back seat with a grimace.

"Good thing one of us thinks ahead." He pulled out two fluffy white towels, tossing one at Cyrus’s face.

Cyrus caught it with supernatural reflexes, raising an eyebrow. "You packed towels?"

"And clothes." Kane dabbed at his forehead. "But they’re in the trunk. Road trip essentials, remember?"

Cyrus stripped off his ruined shirt, revealing the lean muscle beneath as he dried his torso and hair.

Rain hammered the roof as the engine rumbled to life, warm air creeping through the vents like a lifeline.

"We can change once we get home," Cyrus said, adjusting the temperature higher.

The Mercedes navigated the narrow mountain path, wipers fighting a losing battle against the torrential downpour.

Kane pressed his forehead against the cool glass, watching lightning fracture the sky.

Cyrus navigated the treacherous curves of the road, hands steady on the wheel despite their recent battle.

"At least we’re alive," Kane murmured, "even if we don’t have the chalice."

Cyrus didn’t respond, his attention fixed on the road ahead.

The radio crackled to life between them, cutting through the drumming rain.

"—severe weather alert for the entire northern region. Flash flooding has been reported along Highway 16, and authorities have closed all mountain passes. Residents are advised to seek shelter immediately and avoid all non-essential travel—"

Kane groaned. "You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s our route back!"

Cyrus’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Then we’ll need an alternative."

The car slowed as they approached a fork in the road. Left led to the now-closed highway; right disappeared into dense forest.

"There’s a small town about twenty miles east," Kane said, checking his phone’s map before the signal disappeared. "Might have a motel."

A massive tree branch crashed onto the road ahead, forcing Cyrus to brake sharply. The Mercedes skidded on the wet asphalt before he regained control.

"Okay, small town it is," Cyrus decided, turning right.

After twenty minutes of tense driving, the trees thinned, revealing the dim outline of buildings.

The small town materialized into view, a handful of darkened storefronts lining a main street slick with rain.

They cruised past a shuttered diner, a gas station with its lights off, and a hardware store with plywood over the windows.

"There," Kane pointed to a flickering neon sign—the only light in the darkness. "The Onyx Motel."

The sign buzzed and sputtered, half its letters dark, but the vacancy portion glowed red.

Cyrus pulled into the gravel lot, parking beneath a sagging overhang.

Kane popped the trunk and grabbed their backpack, wincing as his injured ribs protested the movement.

The rain hammered against his back as he slung the pack over one shoulder. They dashed across the gravel lot, shoes splashing through puddles.

Kane yanked open the lobby door, a bell jingling overhead as they stumbled inside.

The small lobby smelled of cigarettes and pine-scented cleaner.

A yellowed sign pointed to "Lily’s Corner," a cramped diner area with four booths and a counter.

The vinyl seats were cracked, patched with duct tape. A lone waitress wiped down tables, glancing up at their bedraggled appearance without surprise.

In the corner, a vending machine hummed, its light flickering.

The glass front was smudged with fingerprints, displaying an assortment of candy bars, chips, and beef jerky that looked like they’d been there since the turn of the century.

Behind a chipped counter, an elderly man looked up from a crossword puzzle, eyes widening at their bedraggled appearance.

"Rough night?" he asked, setting down his pencil.

Kane dropped the backpack with a wet thud, water pooling around their feet on the linoleum floor.

"You had no idea," Kane said, pushing his soaked hair from his eyes.

The elderly man’s bushy eyebrows furrowed. His gaze sharpened as it flicked between Kane and Cyrus.

"Do you have any rooms available, preferably with two bedrooms or at least separate beds?" Cyrus stepped forward.

The elderly man snorted, looking them up and down.

"Storm’s got everyone stuck. Only got one room left." He tapped a key with a faded plastic tag.

"Room twelve. Queen size bed, hot water if you’re lucky." His rheumy eyes narrowed.

"Take it or leave it."

Kane glanced at Cyrus, whose jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

"We’ll take it," Kane said before Cyrus could object.

Cyrus shot him a sharp look but said nothing as Kane reached for his wallet.

"That will be fifty, cash only," the man said.

Kane counted out soggy bills while Cyrus stood rigid beside him, tension radiating from his tall frame.

"Checkout’s at eleven," the man said, sliding the key across the counter.

"The vending machine’s busted, but Lily might fix you something if you ask nicely." He pointed down a dimly lit hallway.

"Last door on the right. And keep it down—walls are thin as paper."