"He told me he tried to talk to you about Gabriel, and you wouldn't listen!" Lena insisted, her heart sinking when she realized that she had no proof to defend against the other accusations.
"That just makes it his word against mine, doesn't it, then?" Leslie asked darkly. "I don't really care what you believe. I'd just watch my back a little more; have you noticed the way he stares at you? His eyes look awfully hungry." Lena felt goose bumps cause the hair on her arms to rise, and she began backing towards the door. Leslie laughed and the sound echoed off the tiles, the sound was so deep and foreign that Lena yanked the door open and hustled back to her sister, who was nibbling at the chicken off Lena's plate.
"Don't be mad!" Vanessa insisted when Lena opened her mouth. "You were in there forever and it was getting cold."
Lena sank into her chair, pressing a hand to her pounding heart. Her phone jangled, and she reached down her shirt to tug it from her cleavage, where she had stored it to protect it from the rain. Vanessa's must have at the same time, because she too took hers out from her own "secret compartment".
On both of their phones was a text message from their mother: Your dad will be allowed to come home next week.
Chapter Fourteen
December 18
Winter break: two weeks off from school for the end and beginning of the yearly holidays. Lena's father had officially been home from the hospital for over two weeks now. The first day of his return, she had had to sit on her hands to resist the urge to throw him into the largest hug imaginable. What she had noticed right away, however, were his moods.
"Just leave me alone!" he would snarl at her when she attempted to fuss over him, rubbing his IV sores with the lotion she used on her own track marks, or when she tried to go over the heart-healthy recipes his doctor had sent to them. "I want to be by myself!" Of course, less than an hour later he would be calling for her, asking for help sitting up, or just leaning his head on her shoulder. Vanessa and their mother seemed to be experiencing the same things with him, but when she tried to bring it up, her mother simply hushed her. When she persisted questioning the matter, a file from the hospital was tossed at her. The highlighted portion of it read:
Patients recovering from invasive surgery often find themselves struggling with excessive depression. This, combined with the need for pride and independence, contrasts sharply with their physical need to be cared for by others. Rapid mood swings are to be expected.
It made sense, but Lena still found herself struggling to have patience with his anger followed by wanting her attention, when all she wanted was to just talk and be friends like they used to. It was difficult sympathizing when she really didn't know what he was going through. So there was no surprise when Lena had mixed feelings come her mother's next request.
"Please, Lena, will you stay with your father during his walk today?" Lena was sitting cross-legged on her mother's bed, basking in the attention her mother was paying to her. They had talked about school and grades, and all the things they had missed while her mother was in crazy work mode. She had kept the topic light, steering it away from the dead and the missing, wanting only to have some fun mom time.
"What? What would we do?" She had planned on spending her day doing her laundry and then reading while eating snacks. This didn't fit in her plans at all.
Her mother, who was going through her own overflowing laundry basket separating the jeans and towels from the rest of the pile, straightened up, pushing strands of brown hair from her eyes. "I don't know Hun, take him for a walk. Drive him to a park and then walk on the grass, take a lunch, why don't you?"
Lena pointed to the window. "The ground is covered in snow. I don't think the cold would be good for a guy recovering from surgery."
Hazel eyes flashed with frustration. "Lena! I need some time to myself. I want the house empty. I want to relax. I'm fairly certain I've been averaging on four hours of sleep a night for several months now, and the time I've been completely alone is limited to how long I can spend in a bathroom stall. Please give me this break." Hearing the begging in her mother's tone, Lena gave in. When a woman was right, she was right.
Entering into the kitchen, she filled her old lunch bag with the healthy leftovers from the past few meals. Being a bit of a junk food lover, the diet of strictly flavorless mush was not boding well for her mood; she figured with a bit of poking around on the internet she might be able to find food acceptable for her father to eat that still tasted nice. But not now. Now she had to walk out in a freaking blizzard and…
Well, ok, Lena admitted grudgingly when she realized that she was whining, even in her own mind. There was no blizzard. It wasn't even snowing; a few inches of graying snow smothered several patches of ground from the night before. Yamaha mewed at her from his preferred perch in the kitchen sink, and she held out a lettuce leaf to him. Nose crinkling curiously, he sniffed at it before turning his head, disdainful.
"Spoiled," she grumbled to herself. "A few weeks ago you were starving under Megan's porch. Now you won't take anything but that expensive canned food." There was a grain of affection in her scolding, however. She had grown fond of the cat, the rusty rumble of its purr and the warm weight he provided the few times she had woken to find him in her bed. He was a comfort.
Searching the house for her father, she found him resting on the sofa in front of the television, staring out the window with hands pressed tightly to his chest.
"Daddy?" she asked tentatively, not certain if this would be one of his angry or needy moments. His gray eyes flicked to her face, and he smiled.
"Hey, sweetie," he greeted, but the smile quickly slid off his face when it was replaced by a grimace. His hands doubled their grip of his skin. Lena perched on the sofa beside him.
"Still hurts, huh?" she asked.
"Well, yeah," he replied, after a moment of thinking. "But it's just the old fears coming back that are bothering me. For some reason I just can't shake the feeling that this is all just a fluke and in any moment it'll just stop beating. How is it possible that someone can actually slice you completely open and you're still alive?"
Lena took his hand in hers, squeezing it reassuringly. "It won't. Even Megan's little sisters say prayers for you now."
"Why should they?" he snapped. "Since when is this their business?" At Lena's face falling, the anger slid off as quickly as it had appeared. "I'm sorry, bug," he sighed. He slid an arm around her shoulders in a one-armed squeeze and, at their proximity, Lena could hear the steady beat of his heart. The sound relaxed her a significant amount; she had been worried about that very heart for so long.
"So dad," she turned him, trying to sound perky. "I packed us a picnic! Do you want to go to a park or something and walk around?"
Looking like he still wanted to make up for his momentary outburst, he agreed after a momentary pause.
"Don't really want to go to a park, though," he told her. "All the parks in the neighborhood are dumps." He had a point; those three accessible parks were the epitome of Philadelphian filth. Although many people throughout the states classified Philadelphia as a disgusting place, like many stereotypes, it was unfounded. It was an absolutely beautiful city that Lena loved, in many parts. However, some parts were kept nicer than others. Much nicer.
"So where do you want to go?" she asked him, trying to think of another place to walk at. Nowhere inclined enough to provide too much stress on him; hiking was definitely out. What they needed was a small path of flat, even ground. Something like…
"What about that school of yours?"
Lena laughed. "It's winter break; nobody'll be there. I don't even know if we can get in… there are gates…"
"What about the people who take care of the horses and stuff?" her dad asked. "They have to be there every day, right?"
Lena considered; he had a point. If those students managed to get in every day to take care of their animals, they could probably get in without too much difficulty; the prospect of keeping both her parents
happy at a rough time like this was an appealing one.
"Alright," she finally agreed. "Just let me bundle up. You get some warm clothes on, too." She puzzled over where they could go to eat their lunch without freezing on her usual picnic bench, but figured they could stay in the greenhouse; she was fairly certain they stored extra tables and chairs in the spacious controlled-temperature house when they weren't using them to sell their good at.
Going into her bedroom, she dressed for their exercise, slipping on warm jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a fuzzy jacket on top, she took a minute to braid her hair into pigtails, hoping the thick bunches of hair would keep her ears protected from the cold underneath her hat.
Stepping outside, she started up her mother's car, letting the heater on as she waited for her dad, who slowly emerged outside, climbing into the backseat of the Volkswagen and pressing a pillow tightly to his chest like the doctor instruct he do whenever he was going anywhere. Lena, unaccustomed to driving though she and Megan had had their licenses for a while, was feeling especially nervous as she made her way down the road, trying to keep their journey as smooth as possible to avoid jostling her father. His occasional sharp gasps of pain caused her to gnaw on her lip in worry. I really hate driving, she fussed to herself, staring at the road while progressing at a snail's pace, even when cars around her started honking. Shut up, she mentally growled to them. Don't judge my driving until someone you love is suffering in your backseat.
Thankfully they made it to her school with no casualties, and, after botching her parking attempt, she hustled to her father's side door to help him out, allowing him to grip her arm and lean on her heavily before standing on the slick pavement.
"Well, that was eventful," she said, trying to make light of the situation. To her immense relief, he gave the wry grin she knew too well as a response. Linking arms with him, she found that he was right and the gate by the stables and pens was left wide open, far enough from the road not to be seen.
"Sweet!" she cheered. "You're good, dad." She led him onto the campus and soon the two of them slowly made their way in a circle. One or two kids she vaguely recognized gave her a wave as she guided her father around them, even as they progressed about their own business, weighing and feeding and administering shots to their animals.
"This is like being at a zoo," she remarked happily, turning to look at her dad's face, and then she stopped when she saw his expression; his face was pale, his mouth crooked down unhappily.
"Dad?" she asked.
"Lena," he whispered urgently. "I have to go."
"What?" she was surprised.
"Seriously!" he hissed to her. "Some of the pills I'm on… it's an emergency!" Not wanting details, Lena glanced around and dragged her father over to a thick ring of oak trees a decent enough distance from the animal pens to be discreet.
"I won't tell if you won't tell," she informed him, and he nodded gratefully.
"Give me some privacy," he told his daughter, pointing a vague distance ahead. "Just walk around for a few minutes and then come back, alright?"
Agreeing, she hastened from the spot, looping past the pens and greenhouse and making her way to the sports areas. First came the batting cages, where birds somehow always managed to get trapped. She winced at the disturbing amount of feathers and paw prints around the area. Note to self: never let Yamaha out around here, she thought distractedly.
Next, a row of twelve or so concrete rooms their physical education classes used for everything from four-square to tennis lined up in groups of six; ten-foot by ten-foot gray cement rooms that had about fifteen-foot high ceilings that were open to the sky and yet covered by chicken wire to keep fly balls in the room. She hustled by the first four, and then a muffled, echoing shout made her stop. What in the heck?
Peeking around the corner of the cracked-open door of the eighth room, she blinked, trying to see in the darkness. Two bulky shapes were outlined on the floor. As she stared, one twitched. She was about to make a run for it when it shouted again, and she found herself hurrying into the room.
"Hello? Are you alright?" Her eyes quickly took in the form of a boy. "Oh my God," she murmured, dropping to her knees on the floor. "Are you ok—Gabriel?" His eyes were huge in their focus on her face, desperately trying to speak to her in the way his mouth could not. Watching him rock from side to side, she realized the reason for his muffled screaming; he was bound, head-to-foot, with thick silver duct-tape. It bound his hands together, completely covering his fingers, binding his wrists to each other, and even going so far as to pin his hands to his chest. His legs were trapped in winding strips tightly keeping his legs conjoined from ankle to hip.
And over his mouth, several strips criss-crossed on his lips in a silencing 'X'.
But that wasn't the most shocking thing about him; he was absolutely filthy, smeared with dirt. Several long cuts marred his flesh; the bits of skin she could see around the tape were raw as if it had been twisted repeatedly. His eyes glowed, completely bloodshot, up at her, sunken deeply in his sockets.
"Oh, Gabriel!" she breathed. "I don't understand…" her hands shot to the tape on his mouth, trying to peel it off, but he twisted as best as he could away for her, making a loud sound of protest.
"It's alright! I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help you…" she returned her hands to his mouth. "Hold still!" He did not; his eyes scowling at her, and he let out what could be interpreted as a snarl.
"I don't understand!" she said again. "You don't me to take the tape off?" his glare vanished in his only way of communicating with her.
"But why… oh!" it slowly hit her, and she could have slapped herself. He'd been missing for weeks. He looked like he hadn't eaten that entire time. He was literally starving to death. And here she was, a human girl, trying to remove the barrier keeping her safe from him.
"It's ok, Gabriel!" she told him, turning to his legs. "I'll leave the tape on your mouth and hands, but let me undo your legs. We'll get you some help…" he smelled absolutely, eye-wateringly horrible, but within moments it became clear that the smell wasn't coming solely from him. Remembering the other shape, she turned to it, scooting forward to see who it was.
Thick red hair smeared with a crusted brown, a white face featuring glassy eyes. The skin looked strange, swelling unnaturally. As Lena watched, an ant crawled onto the open blue eye of the dead girl.
Scrambling backwards and harshly bumping Gabriel as she did, she let out a high-pitched sound of alarm, too tiny to be considered a scream. Dropping her head, she wretched, shoulders heaving.
"Oh my…" she whispered, shivering. She couldn't find words to describe how she was feeling. "Gabriel…" her voice was hoarse. "We need to get out now." She rapidly tore at the tape at his legs, hard enough to drag him into the wall; as he turned his head she saw that the hair on the back of his head was completely matted with blood. "Come on, come on!" she gripped him around the middle, bracing her feet on the floor and trying to pull him into a standing position. "I'll take you to my dad; we'll call the police, but we need to get out…"
"Mmm!" Gabriel mumbled urgently to her, eyes wide and fearful. Turning to what he was staring at, Lena saw the room door swing shut with a loud slam.
Chapter Fifteen
Lena shrieked, a primitive, terrified sound, and threw herself at the door, pounding her fists against it.
"Hello?" she yelled out the small slot in the door. "Who's there? Let me out, please!" through the thick door, she heard a jingling and clanking; it took her a moment to realize that she was being locked in. She screamed again, so loud she could feel it tearing at her throat, causing her ears to pop. Footsteps faded in the distance as whoever it was walked away. "Let me out!" she howled.
A somewhat soft thumping sound caused her to whirl around on her heel; Gabriel, who had been standing awkwardly against the wall, slid slowly back to the floor, with a sorrowful hopelessness in his eyes. Beads of sweat lay on his forehead, and it took Lena a moment to realize that he
was sick; really sick. His eyes were slightly glazed with fever.
Pounding on the door a few more times, she was struck with desperation when it didn't even budge. She hit it with every ounce of strength in her body, but nothing changed. It was completely solid, almost eleven inches of pure cement. She let out a dry sob, terrified to the point of losing her mind.
Gabriel's shoulders shuddered and it took her a moment to realize that he was coughing behind the tape. Is he dying? With another glance at the door, she made her way back to him.
"Look at me," she told him, but he ignored her. "Look at me," she demanded again, and this time he did. She gasped at what she saw in his eyes; misery, desperation, sickness, and a burning, unending hunger. Even through the tape she could see the bulge of his fangs.
"We will get out of here, do you hear me?" she said severely. Grabbing his shoulders, she shook him. "You have to believe that we'll get out, too! We have to get out!" He seemed barely phased by her words.
"Look," she said, trying to calm the animal-like panic gnawing at her insides. You can't panic now, she sternly told herself. You need to keep your head on straight. "I'm here with my father; when I don't come back, he'll look for me."
But how will he know where to look? She tried to ignore the nasty voice crooning in her ear. This campus is massive; why on earth would it even occur to him that I'm locked in the multi-purpose sports area room number eight? She bemoaned leaving her bag with her father; it had everything. Their lunch, the car keys, her cell phone and Taser... Stupid! She berated herself. How could you be so stupid?
Looking up where the sun was filtering into the room through the chicken wire, she searched for a weakness, and she had an idea. Returning her hands to the tape that bound Gabriel's arms to his chest, she anticipated his drawing away from her even before he did it.
"I won't untape your hands," she said, gesturing to the tape that covered his fingers like mittens. "That way you can't take the tape off your mouth. But if you can stretch your arms out, maybe you can help me." He allowed her to peel the tape from his arms. At least he's wearing long sleeves, she found herself thinking. So I don't have to tear it directly off his skin. This thought was emphasized as a tiny square of fabric from his shirt sleeve was ripped cleanly off along with the tape.
Bag of Blood - Vampire Mystery Romance Page 10
