Forever 51
Page 28
“But what about me?” Feelings of abandonment and self-pity settled in her pores.
“911 will be here as soon as we depart. Not a word about any of this, my dear. Do you understand?”
“But…”
“There is no but. I’ll take care of Texas.” He patted her on the head as if she were a dog begging for a treat.
The four men stepped over Veronica’s frozen body and clomped up the rickety stairs. “Getting old is a bitch, but you got exactly what you wished for. Welcome to mediocrity!” Seamus laughed.
Veronica attempted to move her head in Jenny’s direction. “Jenny? Are you in there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” Her voice sounded distant, as if she were stoned and sitting at the bottom of a well. “I feel really weird. I think they put something in that beer.”
“Come here. Let me look at you.”
As directed, Jenny wobbled over and dropped down next to Veronica. Jenny’s neck was bloody, but the gaping wound had healed.
“I am so sorry for what he did to you. Hell, I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this. I should have let you go do your own thing at the airport. This is all my fault. Everything that’s happened to you is my fault.” She squeezed Jenny’s arm, forcing back tears. “I swear to you, we’re going to get them.” Her voice became a paranoid whisper. “We’re going to get them for what they let happen to you.” If that was even possible now.
“Am I a vampire? Is that what just happened?” Jenny slowly ran a dirty finger along the bottom of her front teeth. “You don’t need to feel bad. I think it’s going to be okay. Think of it this way, it’s kind of like I’m going to rehab, just different.” Jenny sniffed Veronica’s bloodied face. “Are you mortal? You smell really good.”
“Yes, but as you can clearly see, I’m hurt.” Veronica struggled to roll onto her side. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it out of here.”
Jenny eyed Veronica’s dead weight and the enormity of the staircase. “Me neither. I’m fucking weak. Do you want me to turn you so you can have super powers?”
“No!” Veronica gasped in pain as she attempted to shield her neck from Jenny’s advancing mouth. “Absolutely not. I’m not going backwards. I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
Jenny rose, as if sleepwalking, and trudged up the steps.
“You’ll be okay, Jenny!” Veronica called out as if to convince herself of that fact.
Jenny stopped and turned to Veronica with a blank expression. “I’m sorry that you’re hurt, but I’m starving, and he’s got the food.” And unlike Ingrid, who began this whole mess years ago, Jenny did not consider Veronica a dining option. Instead, she pushed through the heavy door and left.
Veronica steadied her breath, waiting for a crew of EMTs to come bounding down the stairs to her rescue. She attempted to call out for help, but the pain in her lungs was excruciating. As Jenny’s footsteps faded, she concentrated on the sound of her own ragged breath. Above her, a door slammed shut.
A million nightmare visions raced through her mind. Kevin’s men could be back any minute and there was nothing she could do to defend herself. How would she explain the dissected man on the shag carpeting once the police showed?
Mustering all the strength she had left, she rolled onto her side and slowly pushed herself up from the matted carpet. Running a trembling hand beneath her sweat-soaked shirt, she found the source of her pain—three ribs jutting forward. A muscle spasm seized her torso as she attempted to rise to her knees. Yelps of pain echoed in the empty, beer-soaked basement.
“Help me,” she exhaled. Tears streamed from her eyes as she considered the enormity of the staircase.
But this was not the time nor the place to have a pity party. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her dirty shirt. Even though mortality didn’t meet her expectation, she’d achieved it and was oddly calmed by an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Her life, no matter how unmanageable, was her own, and it would end—just not today.
We admitted that we were powerless.
Not today.
That our lives had become unmanageable.
Not. Today.
With stoic determination, Veronica fixed her gaze on the door at the top of the stairs and inched her broken body towards the first step.
Epilogue
Six Months Later
Veronica swore up and down with her hand placed on the Bible, even going so far as to post ridiculous videos of herself stepping out into the scorching July sun, but she still couldn’t convince any of the others she’d found on the dark web to meet during the day. She chalked it up to lives governed by habit, stubbornness and maybe a heaping helping of fear. She knew all too well that when you are convinced that you and maybe only a few others with a very shameful secret exist, it’s not exactly easy to step out on faith and trust someone you’ve never met in person. It didn’t help that she arranged for the newly formed Ninth Steppers to meet in the basement of a Catholic Church. Old mythologies, no matter how much photographic proof you offered, were going to be a real pain in the ass to break with this particular recovery group.
Veronica checked the time on her fitness watch—7:39. She tapped the screen like a drug-addicted rat hoping for another randomly delivered reward. Eight thousand steps. It vibrated against her wrist, flashing Paula’s number. She grabbed her phone from the depths of her purse.
“Hey, I’m putting you on speaker, so don’t swear or admit felonious acts.”
“Long time no talk there, Ronnie. How’s Pflugerville treating you?”
“We love it. Ingrid’s applying to UT for the fall, which is kind of a long shot since she barely passed her GED, but God works in mysterious ways.” Veronica moved several metal chairs into a circle. “I even started my own business!”
“You got out of nursing?”
“Yep. I’m doing Swedish Death Cleaning. It’s a thing. My friend Julie told me about it when we were cleaning out all of her ex-husband’s shit from her house.”
“Sounds kind of morbid.”
“It’s just getting rid of a bunch of your stuff so your family doesn’t have to do it when you die. I’m working my ass off. Literally. I’ve lost almost twenty pounds.”
“Good for you! Have you found a group yet?”
Veronica placed a brand new Blue Book on each of the rickety chairs. “As a matter of fact, I have, and I started it. The first meeting is in like eight minutes, so I should probably go. I’ll call you later tonight if that’s okay.”
“It is. Talk to you later.”
To kill the remaining minutes, she brewed a cup of green tea in the microwave. For the three who swore they’d show—Darklord66, Vamp2000 and Paleface18—she set out three travel mugs, courtesy of Seamus. The annoying little twerp wanted new recruits and, since not every vampire wanted mortality, Veronica was more than willing to keep things amicable between them. After all, he was keeping Jenny safely removed from her father’s presidential campaign, which was currently in full Texas swing. Until the Albanian text could be deciphered, Jenny remained undead, which was far less problematic than Jenny alive. With Kevin’s heart and maybe something as simple as a sprinkle of garlic, she would be renewed to her former self. Until then, she was well supplied with blood.
Veronica eyed the clock and sipped from her tea as she paced the room. In the hall, she could hear two distinct footsteps. Smiling didn’t come naturally to her, but she was determined to change that.
A young man, no older than eighteen, with a blonde buzz cut and tanned skin entered the room. “Veronica?”
“Darklord66?” She giggled.
He extended his arm to shake her hand. “How’d you know?”
“I had a feeling. Was there someone with you?”
Frank appeared in the door frame with a sheepish grin.
“Sorry. I only saw your car in the lot and I thought you might like some company. Plus Ingrid’s attempting to cook some vegan nonsense and that’s never a good thing.”
“D
ark…”
“It’s Bryan.” The man interrupted.
“Bryan, this is my husband Frank. Thanks for looking out for me, honey.” She quickly kissed him on the cheek. “He has some control issues.”
“Don’t we all?” Bryan lifted the virgin text from the chair and took a seat.
“The first step is acknowledging you have a problem, Bryan. And it appears that you’re already there.” Veronica took a seat and opened her notebook. “And with that, let’s start with a moment of silence, followed by the Serenity Prayer.”
God…
Acknowledgments
Writing is a lonely endeavor, so when you are lucky enough to have people enter the picture who want to read, encourage, comment or represent you in a professional capacity, it is rather humbling/exciting.
Big thanks go out to the following people. (If you are reading this and your name is not on this page, blame it on my menopausal mental fog and don’t take it personally. Despite all outward appearances, I am a hot mess.) Bob Mecoy, Ora McCully, Paula Rose, TwylaBeth Lambert, Jodi Thompson, Tex Thompson, Carra Henry, Michelle O’Neal, Trayce Primm and all the folks at the DFW Writer’s Workshop for listening, offering feedback, and laughing through my weird-ass reads. I think I was just as surprised as everyone else to be writing a book about a menopausal vampire, and here we are.
To Erik, Lola and Nik, thanks for being my biggest supporters. Nik, if you’d never brought up the vampire at the tanning salon, Veronica wouldn’t exist, so my biggest thanks go out to you and your teenage imagination.
Last, but certainly not least, I would like to thank you. If you’re reading this, you’ve reached “The End.”
If you enjoyed this book and would like to support the creation of further literary adventures, please do one or more of the following:
Leave a review on your favorite book review site
Tell a friend about the book and author
Ask your local library to put Pamela Skjolsvik’s work on the shelf
Recommend Fawkes Press books to your local bookstore
Visit us online
www.PamelaSkjolsvik.com
www.FawkesPress.com
* * *
* * *