by Kody Boye
“Not much you can do about a burglar when he’s got a master set,” the man said, clicking his tongue to the sound of the keys swaying in his hand. “Is there?”
I didn’t say anything. I was still struggling to take hold of my senses and block out the spiraling pain in the middle of my spine as he closed the door behind him, blocking out the sound of the traffic and rain.
“Now, listen here, rich boy,” the man said. “I want you to tell me where you keep your money—your cards, your cash, anything. And I want you to do it quickly, now, because I’m not stupid. I shoot, I don’t have time to look. So let’s make this easy… take me to the cash, or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
“I…” I managed. “I…”
The man flung himself toward me and shoved the gun under my chin. “I said—”
“Can’t… walk.”
“Well, then. Guess that sucks to be you.”
He yanked me to my feet and spun me around until the gun was pressed against the back of my neck, a cold hard cylinder through which one pull of the trigger could end my life. He didn’t need to repeat himself to let me know what he wanted. The problem was: I had no idea where Guy kept his money, if he kept it anywhere at all. His cards would be on him, his wallet and personal identification in his pocket, every internet account accessed through his phone and the keys to any safe on his keyring. The truth of the matter was that I was fucked. I just had to figure out how to bide my time to get the hell out of the situation.
“Well?” the man asked.
“Give me a minute,” I said.
He clocked me upside the head with the butt of his pistol and nearly sent me to my knees again. “You had a minute. Go. Now.”
I started toward the hallway that would lead to Guy’s room.
I closed my eyes, counting the seconds until he’d realize it was all just a big fucking joke.
Behind us, the door opened.
“Jason?” Guy asked.
“Look out!” I cried.
I hit the floor as the man spun to fire at Guy and rolled onto my back just in time to see Guy lunge. One arm flying up to deflect the gun, the other to smash the fat ring on his index finger into the burglar’s face, he slapped the weapon from the man’s hand before he could raise it to shoot again and lashed out with his one free hand.
His fingers snared around his throat.
The man’s eyes widened. “Wuh-wait,” he gasped. “I’m just getting paid to—”
A chill washed over the air.
The tiny globules of water dripping from the man’s raincoat crystalized before my eyes and shattered the moment they hit the carpet. His frantic legs kicking, his arms struggling to reach out and take hold of Guy, I watched in near-awe and sheer horror as the skin upon his hands paled to a sheer gray, then as the tips of his fingers began to turn blue. Our breaths were but white mist in the air and the man’s gurgling gasps were reduced to gurgles as his body convulsed once, then twice, before going still entirely.
In but a minute, it was over.
Guy dropped the assailant.
His head lolled about to face me.
His neck was a mass of swollen black tissue and his lips and skin the color of ice.
Trembling, the air about us returning to normal, Guy panted and took a deep breath before turning to look at me. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“You… you’re—”
“I don’t have time to explain,” Guy said, looking from me, to the corpse, then back again. “Oh God. Gawwdddddd.”
“You… you’re the one who—”
“We have to leave. Now.”
“Wha-Why—”
Guy hoisted me to my feet and began dragging me down the hall to his room. When he realized I’d been injured, he set me on the bed and began cycling through drawers, pulling from hidden compartments bundles of cash that numbered in the hundreds, possibly-thousands of bills, not to mention coins which appeared to have been smelted from real gold.
“We have to leave,” Guy said as he turned to face me, “because once they come in and find the body, they’re gonna think I’m the one who killed all those people.”
“What… what are you?” I managed.
“There’s no time, Jason. Please.”
I kept silent.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, falling to his knees before me. “Do you trust me, Jason?”
I looked out the open doorway, at the body of the man who no more than ten minutes ago had been completely intent on killing me.
I tilted my head down to stare at Guy’s face.
The rings around his eyes glowed with an illumination told only in legend.
“Yes,” I said, after a moment of startling realization. “I do.”
Truth was, I had no other option.
Without him, I was fucked.
Part II
Chapter Sixteen
We drove away from the scene of the crime just in time to avoid the onslaught of police cruisers responding to reports of gunfire. Tucked safely away in Guy's sprawling blue Lexus, we made our way through the streets of Austin in silence, save for the sound of our breathing. I’d been quick to try and stem the bleeding from my head wound, if only to keep from ruining the interior of Guy’s car, but found it was almost impossible to do so.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said after I fussed with yet another series of napkins. “They’re covers. Besides—the car’s the least of my concerns right now.”
“Where are we going?”
“Hill country, even if it’s the last place I want to go.”
I cradled the back of my head with one hand and fought to control the nausea that threatened to send the contents of my stomach onto the floor of Guy’s nice car. Breathing, carefully, as to not overstimulate myself, I rolled the window down just a crack and leaned my head against it—immediately prompting a look from Guy, but not the question I’d expected.
The silence was bliss after all I’d went through.
I kept hearing the same sound in my head.
Bam, the gun went. Bam bam bam.
During the chaos of it all, there’d been little time to think of anything. We’d packed two bags, carried them out to the car. Afterward, Guy had said we’d pick up food once we got out of Austin and we were free of the burden of the police department, but that had been the least of my concerns. I’d noted, upon our departure, a tear in his suit where the bullet had grazed and cut straight through, but he’d been quick to rebut my offers of help.
You’re hurt worse than I am, he’d finally said.
He was right. I’d been slammed into the corner of a counter and been cold-clocked with a pistol. How I was even awake, much less lucid, was beyond me, but so far I was faring well. The sharp pain in my back had since dulled to a low throb—which, I hoped, meant it wasn’t too serious.
So early in the evening, the traffic through west Austin was a nightmare. He immediately bypassed I-35 and instead took Congress all the way down to William Cannon—which, eventually, would lead us out of Austin and into Hill Country.
Sometime during our merge onto William Cannon, I nodded off and fell into a deep sleep.
When I woke later to a throbbing head and a back with what felt like a needle lodged into my spine, I lifted my head away from the window to look out at the world before us.
Hill country.
Even so late at night, it was stunning in its beauty. Flanked by blue bonnets on both sides, bordered by tall grasses in various colors further out, and sprinkled with wildflowers in every shade and hue imaginable. With the headlights striking their surfaces, they resembled the mystical Wonderland Alice had so unfortunately fallen into, albeit with a sinister shade that reminded me of the Cheshire Cat and all its creepy riddles.
“Guy?” I asked, turning to face him. “Are you all right?”
The sweat beading down his forehead gave no indication that he was. The heater was cranked full blast, and both windows were rolled up to trap the near-suffocating air t
hat permeated the inside of the vehicle. I almost told him to turn the air down and roll down the windows, but when I reached out and found his skin to be cold as ice, I jerked my hand away, trembling at the shock in temperature difference.
“Guy?” I asked. “What—”
“Good,” he said, not taking his eyes off the road. “You’re awake.”
“What’s going on? Why are you sweating?”
“I’m cold, Jason. Really, really fucking cold.”
“But you’re sweating—”
“I’m not like most normal guys, babe, but I think you already figured that out already.”
I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure what to say.
Guy returned his attention to the road and focused on a slight dirt runoff that likely led to an old farm trail. “I’m pulling over,” he said.
“Guy, what’re you—”
“Just trust me! Okay?”
I flinched at the bark in his tone, but nodded as he pulled over and killed the ignition.
One moment, the lights were on, illuminating the rolling fields of flowers before us. The next, it was dark, and I could only see by the light of the moon.
Guy took my hand. “You said you trusted me,” he said, stroking my knuckles, a faint echo of discomfort pulsing from his glacial fingertips. “Right?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I trust you.”
“I can’t explain right now. I’m… starting to fade. I need you to do something for me. It won’t hurt, but… it’s not going to be pleasant either.”
“Guy,” I said, quickly losing my cool as he began to shiver violently. “What’s—”
“Please, Jason. Help me.”
The rings around his eyes glowed brighter than ever.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. “What do you need me to do?” I asked.
“Kiss me,” he said.
Leaning over, he took both sides of my face in his hands, tilted my head to the side, then captured my upper lip between his.
A spark ignited between us.
The immediate sensation of standing in the middle of the freezing-cold rain consumed my body like a voracious predator. Shocked, initially, by the contrast in our persons, I almost recoiled, but I held myself steady as he grounded me with his hands. His fingertips slid down my face, tracing one cheek, then my jawline—his tongue slid into my mouth and a spark of pleasure unlike anything I’d felt before shocked my senses. It was then and there I submitted to his needs, and reached up to take hold of the back of his neck and skull.
His tongue slid across my lips.
I groaned as he pressed his mouth against mine.
The pressure of his hand against the swollen spot of my spine instantly imparted comfort that no medication could’ve offered.
Just as quickly as it begun, it was over. Guy pulled his hands away from my face, then withdrew mine from the back of his head. “We’re done,” he said.
“I,” I gasped, “You—"
Guy forced a smile.
I looked around at the interior of the vehicle. Unlike before—when it had been sheathed in the tight, oppressing grip of heat—it was colder than hell. Ice particles lit the frame of Guy’s brow and the windows were completely fogged and frozen over.
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
“Guy,” I said, turning my eyes back on him to find that his irises had since lost their vibrant, aqua glow. “What just happened?”
“I’ve got some explaining to do,” he said. He put the car into drive and flicked the defrosters on. “There’s a rest stop up ahead. We’ll talk there.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Long before I was born,” Guy said as we paced along the edge of an informational marker, gesturing for me to sit on one of the stone platforms that looked out into the distant hill country, “my father was supposed to lead a series of his disciples from the various parts of Scandinavian Europe and bring them to the Americas in an attempt to preserve our culture. At the time, we were still a blossoming people intent on carving out a purpose in our small part of Norway. Our country was great, then—at the beginnings of its power, when we couldn’t go nowhere but up. We’d established nearly thirty kingdoms by the turn of the eighth century. Then… the Vikings showed up.”
Guy sighed. He settled down beside me and idly reached into his pocket, as if hoping to pull out a pack of cigarettes, but quickly retrieved his hand when he was unable to find what he was looking for.
“Most had left the coast due to the lack of land that was available. Greenland, Iceland, Ireland, the Faroe Islands—it’d make sense, if you think about it, because what use was there in staying in a land where there was nothing available?
“Anyway, the long story short was that my people were barely nonexistent to begin with. We lived on a small series of islands to the east of Bergen and basically lived off the land—keeping to ourselves, not making ourselves well known, that sort of thing.”
“I’m… not sure I understand,” I continued, reaching up to finger the sore spot along my skull. “You said this happened in the eighth century.”
“Yeah.”
“But you started by talking about your father.”
Guy’s eyes settled on me in the moments following my question. “Do you remember me telling you to trust me?” he said. “And when I said I wasn’t like most normal guys?”
The rings around his eyes, though hidden, were clear and stark in my head—both glowing, both alien in their own unusual way.
Guy didn’t wait for me to answer. Instead, he reached down, set his hand over mine, and said, “I’m what my father calls the Svell Kaldr—the ice-cold, or the true people of Norway. He usually just refers to us as the Kaldr.”
“So… you’re vampires then?” I asked, hesitant to allow my hand to stay beneath his after such a declaration.
“God no,” Guy laughed. “We’re anything but.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t suck blood, for one. And for two, I can go out in the daylight. Crosses don’t bother me either.” He reached beneath his shirt and withdrew the fixture I’d seen a few times around his neck and fingered the bridge in the center.
“You’re not damned then?”
“You mean under Him?” Guy asked, rolling his eyes up to the sky. “I don’t know. I’ve never really given much thought to it. I wear it as a sign of my mortality, despite my inability to age. Let me tell you—I’d be dead if he’d’ve shot me in the head.”
“Do you… uh… believe?”
“I have hope. One should when they see such horrible things in life.”
“I guess I’m just having a hard time believing in all this… stuff.”
“What’s hard to believe?”
“You say you’re not a vampire—”
“I’m not.”
“And you’re saying they don’t exist—”
“I never said any such thing.”
“So… I guess what I’m asking is—”
“Yes, Jason,” Guy said. “There are more of my kind out there, just like there are more of the Sanguine or Howlers. The world’s a scary place. There’s monsters around every corner.”
“Why me, though? Why bring me into all of this?”
“If I had a choice, we’d still be in Austin, sleeping in my apartment or talking on the sofa. I never meant for this to happen to you. I merely wanted to help.”
I didn’t say anything. Guy spun around and pushed himself off the brickwork fence before starting back toward the Lexus.
“I brought you with me because I knew there’d be questions,” he continued. “And because you’d be seen as an accomplice to multiple murders.”
“You mean someone else like you was in Austin? The Ladybird Lake Killer?”
“There’s a rat in our system, and they were looking to set me up. I just wish I knew who it was.” The crunch of Guy’s shoes across the dirt continued until he stopped in place. “Come on. We need to keep moving. I don’t want anyone
to follow us.”
That was as good a reason as ever.
Standing, I brushed the dirt off my pants and slid into the car.
Just before Guy flipped the ignition, he gave me a look I knew showed trust.
Chapter Eighteen
We slept at a rest stop on the outskirts of Horseshoe Bay in the back seat of Guy’s Lexus. Draped beneath a single blanket to stave off the cold, huddled close to conserve warmth, we woke when the sun was just peeking over the horizon and stabbing light into the vehicle.
“We’ll stop at a gas station to get something to eat and use the restrooms while we’re there,” Guy said, shrugging out of his torn, bloody dress shirt, revealing the tanktop beneath it.
“Where are we headed?” I asked.
“Fredericksburg. It’s far enough away from the city to not draw immediate suspicion and enough of a tourist attraction to where if they do manage to catch wind of where we are, it’ll be difficult for them to find us.”
“What about the car? It’s not like you’ve mentioned anything about fake plates.”
“We’ll be gone by the time anyone ever finds it.”
I remained silent as I watched him start the ignition and fumble with a few dials on the dash. I noted his immediate reaction was to keep the inside temperature somewhere between hot and cold—likely, I now realized, due to his condition—but watched as he gave pause when he caught sight of me in the backseat. His fingers instantaneously flipped the dial to the far right side—offering comfortable, cool air that would combat the worst of the Texas heats.
I fumbled over the console and landed in the passenger seat with a resounding grunt.
“You ok?” Guy asked.
“Yeah,” I said, clipping my seatbelt into place.
Over the course of the next several hours, during which time the hill country became progressively grassier and the flowers were seen only in spurts along the scenic routes, I looked out the window and dwelled on the intricacies that ultimately led to my sure position within all this.
Guy had been right when he said I’d be seen as an accomplice. Between the murder committed in self-defense and my presence within the apartment, it was only natural that they’d tie us together, especially after they looked up my records and my landlord confessed to me having unexpectedly moved out.
