Allis was not one to believe in fate, destiny or anything of that sort since she was a child. And even then, it was hard to have believed in Santa or the Easter Bunny for more than a couple years after her parents' death.
Of course, a novel can't start without the main character being an orphan, thought Allis grimly. She wasn't a big fan of having the perfect premise of being the main character in a novel.
So things like coincidences not being coincidences was a big-no-no for Allis: for her, chance meetings were just that: chance. Life had nothing to do with an all-seeing being, making all her choices for her. Allis firmly believed in making your life your own, and that almost didn't change when she opened her front door, expecting the pizza man, and instead, finding a blood-covered woman with flaming red hair, standing on Allis' porch, clutching her left arm with the opposite hand.
The moment Allis opened the door, a twenty in her right hand, the woman pushed past, knocking into Allis in the process.
"The bloody hell are you doing, miss?" squealed Allis as the short redhead burst into her home. The woman turned to face her, slamming the door behind Allis and smirking.
"Come on, Waters, don't tell me you don't recognize me!"
"Red?" Allis gaped. "My own Charlie 'Red' Bradbury?"
"The one and only," grinned Charlie.
Allis blinked. And blinked. And blinked.
"Come on, woman, give me something! You look like you could use a reboot."
"Excuse me for needing a second while I take in the fact that my best friend, to whom I've not spoken in years, is standing in front of me, covered in blood!"
Allis was unnecessarily angry, and she perfectly knew it. She had had an awful day at work and fully intended to avoid taking it out on Charlie.
"What the heck, Red?" groaned Allis, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. "We keep in touch for three years, then you go MIA, and now, here you are, barging into my house, and please tell me where you're hurt and who hurt you so I can take them down!"
Charlie grinned. "You can't take 'em down, Allis. Not this time. I've got a nice big slash on my arm, so if you could help me bandage it, I'll be on my merry way."
Allis ushered Charlie into her living room, tutting all the way.
"I don't think so, Red. You ain't going anywhere until that is on its way to heal. That means you're not leaving for at least a week. Plus," she added, with a smile, "it'll give us time to catch up. I want to know everything you've done in the last five years. Who you've hooked up with, who you haven't, whose computer you hacked, everything."
"I'm not getting out of this, am I?" said Charlie, plopping down of Allis' old, beat up couch. Allis shook her head, turning to go to the kitchen.
"No, you're not. Start talking."
As Allis began patching up the woman, Charlie talked. She spoke more that night than she had in the last few weeks, she told Allis, who bit her lip.
"Why not?"
"Uh… it's complicated," said Charlie, her eyes darting to the door. Allis sighed.
"If you wanna leave, just say the word, Red," she said. "I'll stop you, but at least I'll know where you stand."
Charlie waved her uninjured hand, clearly surprised by Allis' claims.
"Oh, I don't want to leave, far from it! I'm just… worried."
"About?"
Charlie groaned, leaning fully back on the couch until her head hit the armrest.
"I knew shouldn't stop by your house, Al," she moaned. "I knew it would put you in danger. God, I'm way too selfish. I just wanted to see you again, and… and I…"
"Hon, just spit it out! Why would I be in danger?"
"What do you think gave me a gash like that?" deadpanned Charlie. "Why am I running around with three guns, two make-shift bombs, all loaded with silver? Werewolves, Waters."
Allis burst out laughing. "That's your excuse? Werewolves? Come on, Red, I know we were team Jacob, but seriously, Charlie… there isn't such a thing as a werewolf. They don't exist."
Charlie went red in the face, which clashed severely with her hair. "Listen to me, Allison Susan Waters!"
Damn. The whole name.
"There is such a thing as werewolves, Allis. And let me tell you, they're not nearly as hot as you seem to think Jacob is. I always shipped Bella with Rosalie, anyway. The sexual tension, girl, let me tell you…" Charlie cleared her throat. "Bottom line is, all your nightmares are real, and so are your dreams. In less sexy for all of the above. Vampires, werewolves, chupacabras, wendigoes, angels, demons, the seven sins, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, even Death and God, are real. g." Charlie drawled out the word, and Allis blinked. She blinked again.
"You're not kidding, are you?" sighed Allis. "Good God. Wait. Even God?"
"Even God. He actually likes to be called Chuck."
"But he can't be real!"
"Why not?"
"I'm an atheist! God doesn't exist! Lucifer doesn't exist! The archangels don't exist!"
"Sorry, Waters, they do. Gabriel is actually pretty dope," shrugged Charlie, regretting it instantly from the pain that shot through her left arm.
"Nooooo…" groaned Allis. "That means I've been wrong all along, and I don't like being wrong!"
"That's what's bothering you, Allis?" grinned Charlie, sitting upright on the couch. "Not the fact that there may or may not be a pack of bloodthirsty werewolves approaching your house?"
Allis hung her head. "That's what you meant by putting me in danger, right?"
"Yup."
"Let's roll, Red. Just like before."
"Well, to be fair, before, we were chased by-"
"Cops, yeah. We tagged their car, remember?"
Charlie rolled off the couch, holding her injured arm close to her torso. "What did we write? 'All cops are doughnut fuckers' is what I remember."
"It's also what I seem to recall."
The two women ran out the door, jumping into Allis' minivan.
"Where to, Red?"
"Lebanon, Kansas," answered Charlie, a large smile on her face. "My face hurts."
"Mine, too."