A Nighttime of Forever

by Matthew S. Cox

  “What’s going on? Why is she way out there?” She stares at the MIBs. “Who are you people?”

  “We’re with the government,” says Agent Han.

  I smirk. “The outfits already give that away.”

  “FBI?” Mom twists my arm to show them the screen. “Someone’s kidnapped my other daughter!”

  “What!” blurts Dad.

  Sophia runs to him and cries. “They got Sierra!”

  “Who is they?” yells Dad.

  “I don’t know,” I shout. “And there’s too much going on right now.”

  “No, Mrs. Wright. We are not with the FBI.” Agent Hendricks, the perfect picture of calm, smiles.

  Dad stares at me, his whole body shivering from nerves.

  I point at the MIBs. “You guys have crappy timing. Wait here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  While I debate if I want to throw caution to the wind and just leap airborne in front of them or run into the trees first, Mom’s phone rings.

  “Argh!”

  Mom reaches for it, but I answer. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mrs. Wright. It’s Ashley Carter. Is Sarah there?”

  “Ash. It’s me. Now’s not a good time. Can I call you back?” I glance at Mom. “It’s Ash, for me. Not sure why she’s calling your phone.”

  “Oh, hi! Because you don’t have yours, duh,” says Ashley. “Hey, umm, we’ve been abducted by this astoundingly beautiful woman. She wants to talk to you or she’s gonna like hurt us or something.”

  “God dammit!” I shout, then snarl. “Does she have Sierra too?”

  “Nope,” says Ashley. “Just me and Michelle. Umm, ’scuse me, did you take Sarah’s little sister too?” Pause. “Nope. She’s shaking her head.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Dude. This chick is seriously gorgeous. Even Michelle’s checking her out and she’s straight.”

  “I am not,” says Michelle in the background.

  “You’re gay?” asks Ashley.

  “No, dumbass. I mean I’m not checking her out.”

  I growl.

  Sophia gasps. Mom and Dad lean back. The MIBs stare at me.

  “Hello, Miss Wright,” says a sultry but high-pitched voice. “I’d appreciate you doing me the favor of meeting at your earliest convenience. Cirrus apartment tower at Westlake and Eighth. Downtown. Thirty-third floor.”

  “Take a number,” I snap. “I’ve got another kidnapping ahead of you. I’ll be there as soon as I can, but if you hurt my friends, I’ll rip your tits off.”

  Mom gawks at me, while Dad goes red in the face and Sophia giggles.

  “Take your time,” replies the sexy voice. Your friends are comfortable.” She hangs up.

  I flip open a note app and type in the address, then look up at the MIBs who are both staring at me with their eyebrows way up. “What?”

  “Umm, Sare,” says Sophia. “Your fangs are showing.”

  Grr. “That’s because I’m really pissed off. Someone kidnapped Sierra and my two best friends.”

  “Your only friends,” mutters Sophia.

  I look at the MIBs. “Why don’t you two stay here and make sure my mom doesn’t get kidnapped too? I gotta go.”

  With that, I leap straight up into the air. I’m so pissed off I don’t even notice I’ve jumped straight out of my flats until two minutes later. “Shit!” I shout, my voice echoing over the whole neighborhood. I almost turn around to get them. Maybe I should really change into a tee and jeans instead of this peach-colored mini-dress… but I don’t have time. And the MIBs are still at home.

  Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

  My sister’s been kidnapped, my friends have been kidnapped, and I’ve got the government―probably CIA―sniffing around. They already suspect what I’ve become. I doubt that’s going to end well, but it shouldn’t be too hard to make them forget me once I get back.

  Except… why couldn’t I sense Agent Han’s thoughts?

  Don’t tell me the government has like androids or something. No. Can’t be. She smelled alive. Great. Just my luck. The government has a special team just for vampires. When did my life turn into an episode of X Files?

  I look past the fluttering hem of my dress at my bare feet. Oh, hell with it. I’ve seen enough vampire shows to understand that whatever I wear into a fight is going to get shredded―or at least covered in blood and ruined. This dress is kinda old anyway.

  So help me, if I wind up stuck outside naked again, I’m gonna kill someone.

  The Cabin

  18

  According to the nanny app’s GPS interface, my flight speed is 137 MPH.

  It’s pretty easy to point myself toward the distant icon representing Sierra’s phone and fly in a straight line. Three and a half minutes later, I spot Lake Margaret off to the left. The tracker leads me to a point a couple hundred feet deeper into the forest, north and east of the lake.

  A lit window up ahead glows out from the woods like a beacon, about where the app says I should find someone in serious need of an ass kicking. I click the phone off to save battery and… look down at my lack of pockets.

  Crap.

  I dive for the ground and swing my legs down to land on a narrow dirt trail, causing my dress to bloom up. Ugh. Flying in a dress is irritating… and embarrassing. Note to self: if I am going out of the house with the intent to fly, it’s jeans, sweats, or LuLaRoes. The sight of a white Mini Cooper parked by the cabin lights my blood on fire. Now I know what pissed Sierra off.

  Bree Swanson’s about to have a really bad night.

  I’m so fuming angry that it takes me a few seconds to calm down enough to walk toward the house. Why would she kidnap Sierra? I’ve got no idea what’s waiting for me inside, but since she told me to come alone, I’m expecting she’s brought along a pack of friends and expects they’re going to gang up on me and kick my ass.

  Boy are they in for a shock.

  While creeping closer, I stare at the cabin, trying to force my senses past the wall. Maybe I can hear heartbeats or something. When I get within about ten feet, two ghostly shapes appear. The oddity of that stalls me in my tracks. One form is much smaller than the other, sitting on the floor on the far left, leaning against the wall. The other figure, standing at the opposite end of the room, fidgets around. When it turns to the side, the profile of large boobs tells me it’s Bree.

  What the hell am I looking at? It’s almost like… oh crap. I’m seeing their heat or something.

  I wanted to listen through the wall or get some kind of idea if I was about to walk into a trap… and Vampire Girl did it. That means only Bree is in there with Sierra―no pack of cheerleaders ready to beat me up for ‘stealing’ Scott.

  Patience lost, I punt the door clean off its hinges and storm inside. The whump of it shakes the whole cabin and echoes into the trees. It’s a rustic camping/vacation type place with a tiny sink, a small chair and tables, a fireplace on the left, and a big bed on the far right, next to Bree.

  Sierra’s in the corner by the fireplace, her hands behind her back and duct tape wrapped around her from shoulders to ankles. More strips cover her eyes and mouth; snot dribbles from her nose. It’s hard to tell if she’s furious or scared. Her sneakers squeak against each other as she struggles to get loose. Bree must’ve used an entire roll of tape on her.

  Speaking of the bitch…

  I glare at Bree. She bites her lip and whines at nothing in particular as though she’s waiting for someone who’s late and she’s worrying they won’t show up. I’m about to throw her face first into the stone fireplace when I realize she didn’t react at all to me booting the door into the room.

  Snarling, I stomp over and grab two fistfuls of her top, shaking her. “What the hell are you doing with my sister?”

  At the sound of my voice, Sierra lets out a loud “Mmmmmm!”

  “Huh?” asks Bree.

  My two-fisted grip on her blouse nearly strangles her as I drag Bree around and force her to look at Sierra. “I’m ten seconds away f
rom giving you the beating of a lifetime. Why did you kidnap my sister?!” She gurgles as I haul her back in front of me and stare into her eyes.

  “I found a little girl walking home alone in the dark, so I gave her a ride.”

  This bitch has cracked. Completely nuts. Not even a little bit of acknowledgement of me throwing her back and forth.

  Sierra clomps her feet on the floor and tries to yell again. I’m pretty sure it would translate to, “Let me out!”

  “You didn’t give her a ride, you dumb bitch. You kidnapped an eleven-year-old child,” I yell. “Do you even understand? Your ass is legit going to prison.”

  She glances at the open doorway, frowns, then looks at me and twitches as if startled. “Oh, Sarah. You’re here.”

  I pull her up off her feet, floating a couple inches off the floor. “Do you even realize the mess you’re in?”

  “Where is he?” asks Bree, in the tone of a lost puppy.

  “You’re seriously waiting for Scott?” I ask, stunned by what’s running around in her head. Oh, she’s gone to crazy town. She’s ignoring that we’re flying right now, and even thinks she saw Scott and he told her to bring me here. “He’s dead, Bree. There is no more Scott.”

  Sierra makes a questioning noise.

  The floating thing is obviously having no effect, so I put her down and land. Dammit. People are supposed to be scared of angry vampires. “What’s wrong with you, Bree? You’re even more vapid than normal, and that’s saying something.”

  “Umm…” She stares at me for a few seconds, then shifts her gaze to the doorway. Her expression goes from confusion to adoration, and she grins lovingly. “Scottie!”

  A twig snaps outside.

  Oh, no fuckin’ way.

  After tossing Bree onto the bed, I spin to face the door. Scott walks in, still wearing the denim jacket and jeans he had on the night he killed me. Only, he looks like a bear had him for lunch. Blood oozes from slashes all over his face, chest, and legs. Half his nose is missing, and most of his left cheek is nowhere to be seen. He reeks of blood.

  He was scoping Sophia!

  Scott trudges into the cabin, glaring at me. “Bitch. You should be dead.”

  I gesture at him. “Right back atcha.”

  Attack Dog

  19

  Scott stomps up to me. Part of me wants to shriek and run away from the horrifying sight, but I hold my ground, somehow keeping an outward calm. I’m momentarily grateful to Bree for putting tape over my sister’s eyes, so she can’t see this monstrosity.

  “Oh, very funny. Are you happy now?” Scott points at his gaping cheek. “This is your fault.”

  Sierra coughs and moans pleadingly.

  “Hold this,” I say, tossing Mom’s phone into Sierra’s lap.

  She twitches and murmurs at the tape over her mouth.

  Snarling, I lunge at Scott, grabbing his chest and shoving as hard as I can. His body slams to the floor as fast as a mousetrap going off, and he goes sliding on his back straight out the door. “Oh, no. No goddamned way, Scott. You killed me, you shithead.” I storm over to the doorway, pointing at him. “You stabbed me because I dumped you for cheating. You do not get to blame me for anything that happened to you after that.”

  Scott rolls back to his feet, wagging his head left and right with a spine-twisting crack of bones popping. He flashes an arrogant smile with the half a mouth he’s got left. “Where’s your little attack dog now?”

  “Attack dog?” I blink. Oh, he must mean Dalton. “Look. I had no idea he was watch―” I point at him. “No. You know what? I don’t have to justify shit to you. We were together for two damn years, Scott. I gave you chance after chance whenever you showed me what kind of asshole you really were down deep inside. But you’re not really a man, are you, Scott? You’re a coward who thinks girls are like fruit for you to take and eat whenever you want, then throw away when you’re finished with them.”

  He growls, sounding a lot like a bear, and rushes at me.

  I zip to the side, letting him blur past me. He crashes through the wall and ends up in a heap against the cabinets by the sink.

  “And you know what else?” I step back inside, placing my feet carefully around splinters. “When you tried to justify cheating by telling me Bree was just a one-night f―” I glance at Sierra. “One-night thing, you really showed me what you think of girls. You’re a piece of shit, Scott. And I’m sorry I wasted two years of my life on you.”

  Bree sits on the bed like a passive groupie, staring at Scott. Ugh. She’s turned into a helpless princess from a bad B movie who can’t do anything but mewl while the hero fights the monster―except she’s rooting for the monster.

  Or maybe this is more like a Godzilla vs. Mothra thing since we’re both technically monsters?

  “You bitch,” grumbles Scott. He grunts while pulling himself upright, a long shaft of splintered wood that pierced his chest sliding out of him.

  What am I dealing with now? He shouldn’t be alive, not with those injuries. Dammit. I knew it. This dress is going to wind up torn to shreds. As ridiculous as it sounds, I’m half tempted to pull it off so it’s intact enough for me to go home in. I don’t, because well, for one thing, running around in only underpants would be stupid and embarrassing, and for another, this asshole will get off on it.

  Scott hurls himself forward, raking at me with claws. His charge blurs for an instant, too fast for me to follow, but drags down to near slow motion as soon as I brace to react. I duck his arm, sprout my claws, and pop back to my full height.

  Right as he punches me in the face.

  The next thing I know, I’m crumpled against the fireplace with my legs in the air, dress down around my armpits and rug bunched up at my back.

  Sierra, close by on the left, whimpers pitifully. It sounds like she’s having trouble breathing through her nose.

  Scott laughs. “You wore my favorite panties.”

  I roll into a squat and tug my dress back down before reaching left and peeling the tape away from my sister’s mouth with a quick yank.

  “Ow!” yells Sierra. “What’s going on?”

  “Apparently, Scott didn’t get the message that we’re over.”

  “What?! Scott’s here?” Sierra shivers. “Don’t let him hurt me! Frankenbarbie kidnapped me!”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Frankenbarbie?”

  Sierra turns her face toward, me. Despite the tape over her eyes, I can picture her brows knitting together. “No way those beach balls are real.”

  “You did this to me!” shouts Scott. “Look at this!”

  “Ugh, no thanks,” I say, then whisper, “Stay there a sec, kiddo, ’kay?”

  “Oh, you’re hilarious.” Sierra struggles at the tape. “Why aren’t you cutting me loose?”

  “Because Scottie is currently trying to kill me again, and you really don’t want to see this guy.”

  Scott stomps toward me.

  I spring at him with the only move I really remember from karate class: a basic front kick. He’s not ready for my speed, and I land my foot clean in his stomach, launching him across the cabin. His claws scrape down my calf but don’t cut deep. Scott smashes the bed, bounces up, and hits the wall face-first upside down―denting it.

  Sierra cringes. “What was that?”

  “Scottie, are you okay?” asks Bree, smiling at him.

  Ugh. It’s nauseating to watch her worshiping him. “Umm. Scott crashed into the wall.”

  “Sarah, untie me right now or I’m telling Mom!”

  “In a minute… I need to deal with this asshole first.” I cross the room, shoving the table out of my way.

  Scott leaps off the bed like a pouncing bobcat. I catch his wrists, keeping his claws away from my face, but his flying body takes me over backward and we tumble to the floor. My scream is part flashback-fear and part anger, but within a few seconds of us rolling around and struggling, it’s quite clear I’m actually stronger than him by a decent amount. He rams
his knee into my side with a crunch.

  Ouch. Ribs.

  Growling, I clench my grip on his right wrist while shoving him to the side, crushing his wrist and splintering most of the bones in his forearm. He roars in anguish. His right hand no longer a threat, I let go and sink my claws into his chest, tearing five new gashes from shoulder to stomach. Blood sprays everywhere, but it’s not the least bit appealing. In fact, I gag at the smell of it. It’s rotten (much like him) and if there’s anything that could make a vampire puke, this is it.

  Scott lets out a horrible wailing scream and wrenches his entire body around, throwing me across the cabin by my left-handed grip of his other wrist. I go cannonball pose in midair and smash a hole in the wall to the left of the door. Before I French kiss the ground outside, I catch myself by flying. The entire front wall collapses outward, turning the cabin into a life-sized diorama box.

  Bree screams, “Scottie!”

  He clamps his left arm over his bleeding chest, gasping in pain.

  Guess my claws sting.

  I angle forward and pull a Supergirl, flying headfirst at him, claws extended. He tries to drag himself out of the way, but I’m on him before he gets anywhere. All ten of my fingers sink into his flesh. As soon as I get my feet on the floor, I haul him airborne and slam him back down. Boards crunch from the force of his impact and a splat of fetid blood bursts out from under him, spattering all over my feet. Thick, syrupy crimson drips off my hands.

  Still, Scott keeps moving.

  Dammit. I’m not a killer. I’m not even a fighter. What exactly am I supposed to do here?

  Scott glares up at me, but more than a little fear shows in his eyes. He’s gotta know he’s not winning this… whatever it is. This fight is like a perfect metaphor for our first time having sex: both of us fumbling around without a clue―and a ton of blood. He gurgles, and I get ready for him to say something stupid. Instead, he lurches around to stare at Bree.

  “Kill the little one,” says Scott.

  “Okay, Scottie,” chirps Bree, with the voice of a cute cheerleader.

  Dammit. He’s somehow managed to mind control her.