by L. M. Justus
I ogled her as she got dressed, instantly distracted from my phone conversation. My fangs poked through the surface of my gums and I didn’t even try to disguise my thoughts. She tried to keep a serious face, but her mouth twitched in a smile.
“You have a one-track mind, Mr. Hennessy,” she said.
I grinned. “That’s because I’m not blind, Ms. Perkins.”
She came over and pressed a kiss to my lips. “Time to go,” she said. “The more distance we can put between us and the Queen, the better.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I said.
Sarah
Marcel climbed into the driver’s seat of the black Lexus SUV, while Sophie took the front passenger seat and Reed got into the back. Sarah tossed a bag of borrowed clothes in the trunk before sliding inside the vehicle next to Reed. Trudy and Nathaniel would be following in a beige compact Toyota Yaris because the Lexus couldn’t fit their entire group.
“This could be the perfect opportunity for Nathaniel and Trudy to get to know each other a little better,” Sarah said as she buckled up her seat belt.
Sophie turned to face the back seat. “Seriously, everyone can tell he’s got it bad for Trudy. I feel like mashing their faces together so they can kiss and get it over with.”
Marcel stifled a smile and started the engine. He pulled onto the road to begin their journey north.
“What’s the name of the place we’re going to again?” Reed asked.
“Radisson,” Marcel said.
“And how long is it going to take to get there?”
“The drive is approximately sixteen hours, plus we will have to stop along the way during daylight hours. It is a fairly long journey, but I guarantee it will be worth the trip–wait until you see my beautiful chalets. I look forward to revisiting them,” Marcel said.
They continued driving until they reached the outskirts of the city. Marcel signalled, and checked the rear-view to make sure Nathaniel didn’t miss him turning into a 24-hour drive-through fast food place.
“Thank God. I’m starving,” Sarah said.
“Me too,” Sophie agreed.
Reed clamped his mouth shut and stared at the floor. He continued to look away as they ordered dinner and parked at the far end of the lot.
Sarah and Sophie dug into their takeout bags and eagerly unwrapped their burgers. A lone man shuffled from the restaurant, clutching a take-out bag in his hands. His breath puffed in the frigid air as he went to his vehicle.
“That one looks good,” Marcel said to Reed, his eyebrows lifting suggestively.
Reed glanced outside. “I . . . I can’t.”
Marcel’s brows drew down. “But you are hungry.”
“I know, but I need help. I can’t hypnotize people,” he admitted.
Sarah reached over and ruffled Reed’s hair. “It’s okay. Marcel can help, right?” She gave Marcel a pleading look.
“Interesting. You’re quite different from the rest of us, aren’t you? I wonder–”
Reed’s door opened with a blast of cold air, cutting off Marcel mid-sentence. Nathaniel leaned in.
“Come. I will assist you,” he said, stepping back to let Reed out of the car.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” Reed said. He hopped out and closed the door, leaving Sarah and the other two in their burger-scented pocket of warmth.
A few minutes later the door opened again, and Nathaniel placed Reed’s inert form on the back seat.
“I shall also feed now,” Nathaniel said. “Trudy will drive during my death sleep. You can proceed whenever you are ready.”
Marcel nodded.
A short while later, after Nathaniel had returned to his car, Marcel rolled out of the parking lot, checking to make sure Trudy was following. They merged onto the highway as Sarah finished her meal and crumpled the wrapper from her burger into a ball.
Reed’s head rested against her right leg, his chestnut hair falling across his forehead. She combed her fingers through the waves that curled around his ear, even though he couldn’t feel her touch. His mind was completely silent when he died after feeding, so she didn’t have to worry about invading his privacy by accidentally ‘hearing’ his thoughts.
“Thanks for doing this for us, Marcel,” she said.
“Oh. It is my pleasure,” he said. Sarah couldn’t help picking up his thoughts about Gabriel. The scene of the two vampires meeting for the first time replayed once again in Marcel’s head. It must have been a truly pivotal moment for him to keep thinking about it almost obsessively.
Sophie leaned her head back and closed her eyes. As the darkness of the deserted highway swallowed them up, Sarah decided to try to get some sleep too.
Sarah jerked awake, disoriented. She sat up, her neck sore from napping with her head tilted at an awkward angle. The car rested in a parking spot in front of a squat motel.
“We made it to our first pit stop,” Reed said. “Another crappy motel.”
Sarah rotated her head around slowly to work out some of the stiffness. “How long was I asleep?”
“About three hours,” Marcel answered from the car’s front seat.
Sophie stretched, having just woken up herself. “That wasn’t as comfy as a bed, but I’ll take it.” She got out of the SUV and the others followed.
Marcel went to check them in and returned a few minutes later. He unlocked the door to their room and held it open, waiting while everyone filed inside.
Sarah wasn’t normally such a sound sleeper, but three hours of solid rest had already done wonders. She flicked on a light as they stepped inside the room. There were two double beds against the left wall, a small couch across from a TV farther into the room, and a doorway leading to a bathroom at the rear. It was plain, but clean.
Trudy closed the motel room door after all six of them were inside.
“Is there a reason we’re being so cheap and sharing one room?” Sophie asked.
Nathaniel turned to her. “You three women are the only ones who require a bed to sleep in. A single room should be more than sufficient.”
“And what’re you going to do while we’re sleeping? Sit there and watch?”
“Precisely,” Nathaniel answered.
“Wonderful,” she muttered and removed her boots, tossing them aside. She yanked the covers open on one of the beds and climbed in.
Reed covered his mouth and coughed, trying not to laugh. “I think what Nathaniel meant is that we’re going to keep an eye out in case of trouble, not that he’s going to sit there and stare at you while you sleep. At least . . . I think that’s what he meant.”
“We will do our best to keep you safe,” Nathaniel said.
“Unless the Queen finds us,” Reed added. “Then she’ll kick our asses.”
“That is not very encouraging,” Nathaniel said.
“Just saying it like it is.”
Sophie glared at them. “Here’s an idea. How about you both shut up?”
Sarah clapped a hand to her forehead. Obviously, her sister wasn’t in a great mood and needed to get some sleep, but if the men riled her up, she’d never relax. “Okay, let’s try to get some rest people. No more talking.” She turned off the light and crawled into bed next to Sophie.
Marcel turned on the TV and muted the volume. “Will the light from the TV bother you?”
The women assured him it was fine and the men squished onto the couch together to watch the news. Closed caption text scrolled along the bottom of the screen, in French, Sarah couldn’t help noticing. Poor Reed.
“The sun will be up in another hour and Nathaniel and I will be trapped here for the day,” Marcel said. “Once you’re finished sleeping, the rest of you are free to explore Val-d’Or and find something to eat while we wait for sundown.”
“What’s valdoor?” Reed said.
“Val-d’Or,” Marcel repeated. “The name of the city we are in. Wait, what is this?” He stared intently at the TV, raising a finger to his lips as he turned up the volume.
Next, three artist’s sketches appeared. There was no mistaking the identity of the people depicted in the drawings: the Queen of San Jose, Nathaniel, and Reed.
“What the hell?” Reed said.
Marcel clamped a hand over Reed’s mouth and continued listening.
The sketches disappeared and an interview filled the screen. A reporter stood next to an overweight, balding man dressed in a too-small suit. A prison rose in the background with men milling about in orange jumpsuits.
“Oh my God. That’s Benny!” Sarah said. What was the guy from the prison doing on TV?
Everyone leaned in to hear what Benny had to say.
“I swear . . . there were real vampires here.” Benny spoke into the reporter’s microphone. “I know what I saw. The girl one, she jumped to the ground all the way from the top of that wall and didn’t twist her ankle or break her leg or nothin’. And they moved real fast and they had fangs. Just like the zombies have fangs, except these guys weren’t zombies.”
“Sir, do you think the people you saw were involved with the viral outbreak? Could they be the cause of the zombie disaster?” the reporter asked.
“Not ‘people.’ Vampires!” Benny said. “Everyone here saw ‘em,” he added, sweeping his arm out to include the entire prison population.
“Okay, sir. I’m not discounting what you’ve seen. There are obviously creatures among us that we weren’t aware of, first zombies and now vampires. Can you tell us anything else about what happened here?”
“There were six of them, two guys and four girls. They’re sneaky little bastards; they look human until their fangs come out. The youngest one was fighting with the others, threatening them and stuff. She was the creepiest thing I ever saw. She said a bunch of nonsense and then they all took off.”
“All right, thank you for your time,” the reporter said. “Back to you, John.”
The scene flashed to another reporter in a newsroom. He explained that the revenants were all dead; two days earlier, they had simply begun dying. Luckily, their life spans were short and the virus did not spread outside of the city, but New York had been utterly decimated.
The report ended and Marcel muted the TV.
“What did the text at the bottom of the screen say, Marcel?” Sarah said. “Did we miss anything else important?”
“It said the people depicted in the artist’s sketches are ‘persons of interest’ in relation to the outbreak in New York City. Basically, they’re looking for Nathaniel and Reed, as well as that girl.”
“That’s the Queen,” Reed said. “The one who’s after us.”
“Ah, yes. Well, the authorities suspect there may be a connection between you and the zombie outbreak.”
“How the hell did they figure that out so quickly? They can’t prove anything, can they?” Reed said, raking his hands through his hair.
“As long as they do not obtain a sample of our DNA,” Nathaniel said. “There are millions of revenant bodies from which they can procure biological samples, yet they have no vampire samples to compare them to.”
“Yeah, but even if they did, they can’t blame us, can they? It’s not our fault the virus destroyed the city. We were trying to stop that from happening, for Christ’s sake. They should be giving us a frigging medal.”
“There is nothing we can do about it now,” Marcel said. “We should continue with our plan to head north, keeping in mind that it is more important than ever to maintain a low profile. If you go out, you should make it quick and keep the risk of being spotted to a minimum.”
“Well, if there’s nothing we can do about it, I’d like to pretend I did not just see that newscast,” Reed said. He grabbed the TV remote from Marcel and switched to a different channel. “There. A reality show about making cakes.”
“Mindless drivel,” Nathaniel said.
“Exactly,” Reed said, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back.
Sarah rolled over and tried to go to sleep, but her mind was running a million miles an hour.
Reed
My life seemed to fluctuate between mind-numbing boredom and run-for-your-life drama. Either I was being kidnapped or attacked by someone from my long list of enemies, or I was sitting around doing absolutely nothing. I’d spent almost an hour watching a show in French, feeling like an idiot. Finally, a movie came on in English with French subtitles, but after an hour of that, I was antsy to get moving. Unfortunately, it was still early morning; many hours before the sun slipped safely out of sight.
The women stirred and eventually sat up in bed, giving up on sleep.
“Should we go find something for breakfast?” Sophie said with a yawn.
I would have killed for a plate of bacon and eggs. “Must be nice,” I grumbled under my breath.
Sophie spun to look at me. “Seriously? Are we never supposed to mention food around you because you can’t eat? I’m so sick of you complaining about how awful it is to be a vampire. Oooh, poor you.”
Great, the perfect start to another long day in Sophie’s presence. I squeezed my eyes shut and my gums started to ache. My fangs poked through, but didn’t extend all the way as I fought to hold them back. “I wasn’t complaining,” I growled. “Just go.”
She grabbed her coat from the floor, shrugged it on, and stamped her feet into her boots. “You were so complaining.”
You were so complaining, I mouthed in imitation.
Sophie gritted her teeth. “You know what?” She gave me the finger. “And this too.” She gave me her other finger.
“Sophie!” Sarah said.
“You sure are crabby when you wake up,” I said.
Tensions were already running high, but Sophie egging me on was pushing me over the edge. My fangs extended to their full length against my will and I couldn’t help the low growl that escaped through my lips.
“Go ahead–bite me!” she dared. “Show my sister exactly what a monster you really are.”
“Guys!” Sarah pleaded, looking ready to pull out her hair.
Nathaniel reached over and placed his hand on my shoulder. “Reed,” he said calmly.
I shoved his hand away and stormed over to the door. “Fine. If you won’t leave, I will,” I said. I yanked the doorknob, which came off in my hand. I crushed it into a misshapen hunk of metal and dropped it on the floor. Then I pulled the door open and ran outside.
The cold air rushed past me as I ran away from my current slice of Hell. The sun shone down from a cloudless sky, sparkling off the thin layer of unmarked snow. My footsteps fell in a pattern that matched my heartbeat as I fled farther away from the motel.
What was wrong with me? Was Sophie right? What kind of animal instincts were coursing through my veins? I felt as if I was losing my mind. Did the last guy I’d fed on have tainted blood or something? God, I was acting like such an ass. Sophie was being unbelievably annoying though, fueling my fireball of anger.
I stopped and closed my eyes. This little town on the way to nowhere smelled clean and fresh; it was completely different from the crowded city of Montreal we’d left behind. I inhaled deeply and my fangs finally retracted, making me feel a little more human again. Voices reached me from a few blocks away, so I walked toward the source to investigate, though I planned to stay out of sight.
In a vacant lot between a corner store and a modest brick house, a group of kids were playing football. Not a real game–the snow hadn’t been plowed and was a foot deep, plus the kids couldn’t have been older than nine or ten–but they were tossing the ball and chasing each other. I watched them with envy, thinking about my football team back home. A team I’d never play with again.
I shoved down my jealousy and tried to enjoy the distraction. The ball flew through the air in my direction, and I darted forward and cau
ght it. The kids stared at me, waiting. I glanced at the ball in my hands, enjoying the familiar weight and the slightly bumpy texture under my fingers.
Deciding to go with my first instinct, I held the the ball and set it spinning on the tip of my left forefinger. The kids smiled and I found myself grinning back. Then I tossed the ball behind my back and caught it with the other hand. That exhausted my bag of tricks as a human, but with vampiric reflexes, I could do better. I flipped the ball into the air, spinning around and batting it like a circus performer. With a risky twirl, I missed the catch and slipped on the snow. I fell on my butt and the kids laughed; of course, they’d enjoyed that part the most.
One of the boys said something to me, but once again, I was in the dark.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know any French.”
The boy looked at his friends and then back to me. He shrugged and curled his fingers in a universal gesture for “Come.”
I thought about it for half a second before standing up and brushing myself off. I drew my arm back, ready to throw while the kids fanned out to restart the game.
After a solid half hour of fun in the snow, the kids had to go. I turned to leave in the opposite direction, feeling a million times better than before.
Smiling to myself, I went back toward the motel. The town we were in, Val-d’Or, was a small place, and it reminded me of my home town, King City. It never snowed back home, but it had the same quiet, relaxed atmosphere.
I turned down a narrow alleyway a block from the motel and spotted three young men chatting together. When they saw me, they stopped leaning against the wall and stood, blocking the way. I pressed my lips together and continued toward them, hoping they wouldn’t bother me.
The one on my right, with the puffy green coat, said something when I got closer. I didn’t understand what he’d said, but I could tell it wasn’t a welcome greeting.
“I’m sorry. I don’t speak French,” I said, and tried to step past them.
They moved closer, fencing me in. Puffy-Coat held out his left hand, palm-up and said, “Money.” His right hand gripped a switchblade, which he flicked open with a snap.
