by Lisa Sanchez
I swiped at the tear sliding down my cheek and took a deep breath. How was I going to explain my way out of this one? Neither Jess nor Taylor knew I’d gone back out last night. I hated lying to them, but there really wasn’t any way around it. Danger was to Taylor as Wonder was to bread. It seemed to follow her everywhere, and where Taylor went, Jess was sure to follow. There was no way I was going to let them get involved in the undead mess I was currently dealing with. They might hate me later for lying to them, but at least they’d be alive.
I pulled my knees into my chest and wrapped my hands around my neck. While resting my chin on my knees, I did what any person would do when they were trying to protect a friend. I lied. “Nothing’s going on. I guess I just had a bad dream.”
Jessica clamped her mouth shut and glared at me for a good long while before speaking again. “You’re lying. But that’s…fine. Whatever,” she said with a huff and made a show of fluffing her pillow before lying down with her back facing me.
I closed my eyes while a wave of nausea took over, my stomach reeling as though someone had kicked me as hard as they could. Dammit. I was blowing it with my friends. Jess knew something was wrong and gave me the perfect opportunity to open up about it, and I’d shot her down. Somehow I didn’t think telling her “I’m lying to you for your own good” would fly to well, so I kept my mouth shut as I climbed out of bed.
Gathering up my things, I paused at the door to look at the only two people who’d ever accepted me for who I was, before heading to the bathroom to shower. Fate had shoved me between a rock and a hard place, and I felt like I was going to pop. Keeping them in the dark, lying to them, felt wrong. But, given the circumstances, I didn’t see any other options. Their safety ultimately came first. If I had to lose their friendship to keep them alive, I would. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, and closed the door quietly behind me.
***
Other than washing away the grisly reminders of last night’s battle with rotting flesh bags, my shower did little to alleviate the stress I felt. My neck and shoulders ached with even the slightest movement, and I winced as I shoved my arms through the short sleeved, purple and black plaid button down that would hopefully hide the bite mark on my neck. I finished dressing and moved to stand in front of the mirror. Wiping away the steam, I took a good look at my reflection and frowned.
“Damn,” I muttered under my breath. The bite mark was clearly visible, my collared shirt doing little to hide the large bruise marring the delicate white flesh on my neck. I looked like I’d been mauled by an over-sexed, frat boy who thought it was cool to mark his territory with a love-bite.
“Pssh. Love-bite, my ass.” With a groan, I ran my finger over the two perfectly formed puncture marks just above my carotid. Part of me wanted to laugh at the absurdity of my comparison. It wasn’t like I was jonesing for some horny loser to mack on my neck, metaphorically claiming me as his own. It was just that, well…I never thought I’d receive a hickey, much less one that was complete with bite marks and a butt-load of unanswered questions.
The bitter pangs of betrayal slapped me upside the head and crushed me like a pile driver. An enormous lump formed in my throat, and hot tears stung my eyes. Any trust I had for Xan withered away the moment his fangs pierced my skin. He had plenty opportunity to go vascular with me before, and hadn’t. Why last night? I bit down on my lip and shook my head, fighting off the overwhelming urge to slap myself.
“Hello…fidiot!” Vampires drink blood! Of course he wanted to bite me. To him I was just a walking Happy Meal, for crap’s sake. Still, in the handful of times I’d been around Xan, not once did I ever get the impression he wanted to hurt me. Trying to figure out his reasoning for biting me gave me a massive headache. The entire situation sucked ass, and I wanted it to be over. In desperate need of coffee, I finished getting ready and left the apartment for the coffee shop just up the street.
A handful of blonde, uber-tanned Betties entered the shop just as I sat down to enjoy the first sip of my peppermint hot chocolate. Peter had successfully roped me into trying the seasonal drink, despite my bah-humbug attitude. Christmas was fast approaching, and I’d yet to purchase a gift for anyone. Fuzzy red stockings and shiny wrapped gifts seemed petty and superficial given everything else that was going on at the moment. Still, I needed to find time to round up some gifts for Jess and Taylor, or my name was mud.
I sipped my chocolaty beverage, doing my best to avoid eye contact with the Betties. They talked a mile a minute and giggled about God knows what until they saw me sitting in one of the easy chairs near the front door, and abruptly fell silent. Several pairs of eyes raked me over, taking in my appearance from head to foot and back up again, before turning to look at each other in silent mirth.
Oh, how I hated the silence…the awkward, disapproving gazes. Disgusted and hurt by their judgmental stares, I grabbed my bag and coffee and left the shop. I couldn’t deal with haters on top of everything else. Not today.
Taylor and Jess were still lounging on the blow-up mattress in my room when I returned. They’d been whispering back and forth as I entered the room. Just like the Betties from the coffee shop, they fell silent as soon as they saw me.
The giant lump that formed in my throat earlier grew larger, and a sharp pain knifed its way through my chest. Their silence tore me to bits more than the sanctimonious judgments the Fake-n-Bake Betties ever could. To hell with it. I wasn’t about to stick around and willingly subject myself to misery. I willed my cell phone into my hand and quickly left the room, unable to deal with the painful wall of silence growing larger by the second.
Desperate to talk to someone, I’d planned on opening up to Jess and Taylor when I got back from the coffee shop. Their mute stares only served to confirm my worst fear. I’d freaking blown it with my friends, and was on my own as per usual. Why? Why was I always on my own?
With my lips pressed together, I closed my eyes and took a nice deep breath while trying to convince myself my reasoning was sound. My motivation for keeping quiet about last night was simple. I didn’t want my friends running off half-cocked, angry, and seeking revenge. They’d throw themselves in danger’s path to defend me, and I simply couldn’t have that. So I lied, and subsequently, my two best friends were pissed. My life had become a classic case of “damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”
That left one person for me to talk to, and holy hell, I craved her voice like a fat kid craved chocolate cake. I hadn’t spoken to her since before school started, as she insisted, as always, that the less contact we had, the safer I was. I didn’t care about my safety right now. I needed to hear my great-grandma’s voice and the comfort that came along with it. If there was anyone who’d know about Xan and his true identity, it would be my great-grandma.
I ended up outside, sitting on the edge of a planter in the center of our apartment’s courtyard. The harsh December cold bit into my skin, compounding my despair. With hands shaking, I punched her number into the keypad and waited as the phone rang. And rang. And rang. Shit. No answer. The voicemail didn’t pick up either. Not sure what I was expecting. You can’t exactly have voicemail when you are hiding from an undead killer who wants to annihilate your family. I flipped my phone shut, fighting back tears. I couldn’t ignore the hollow feeling eating away at my gut. Why didn’t she answer her phone? Didn’t she know I needed her? I let out a rather unladylike snort and rolled my eyes at my own stupidity.
Get a clue, Martha. Of course she doesn’t know what’s going on with you right now. She lives thousands of miles away. Get real, girl.
The harsh reality of my situation took over, kicking me while I was down. My friends were ticked off and didn’t want to talk to me. I couldn’t reach my great-grandmother, the one person who could make everything seem all right, even if it wasn’t. I was on my own, a sad fact I’d become altogether too used to over the years. I couldn’t count on anyone. Nope. But dammit, I could
always count on myself. I was strong, independent, and I’d persevere.
The frigid weather made my bones ache and my movements slow, but I managed to shuffle back into the warmth of my apartment despite it. I knew what I had to do, and frankly, felt ridiculous for not thinking of it from the start. The answer to all my questions was very possibly sitting right under my nose, or rather, at the foot of my bed.
I’d just closed the front door behind me when a loud shriek bounced off the paper thin walls of the apartment. Absolute pain and despair resonated from Taylor’s voice as she screamed out a loud, “No!” What the hell?
I flew down the narrow hallway, all but tearing the door to my room off its hinges as I threw it open to get to my friends. I didn’t care how mad they were. I was going to be there if they needed me — no matter what.
A pair of surprised faces gaped at me.
“Geez, Martha. What the hell?” Jessica said, looking slightly taken off guard. Both girls sat on the floor. Jess had her arm around Taylor who was sobbing quietly. Her efforts to console her weren’t resulting in the desired outcome, and it showed in the creases marring the space between her eyes.
I scanned the room, my muscles relaxing a bit when I saw they were alone with no immediate threat. “I heard Taylor scream, and I got scared, so I came running. What’s wrong?”
Taylor looked up at me with red, puffy eyes and fell apart all over again. “They killed George! Oh, my God, Martha. They tore off his face. How could they do that?”
Alarmed at hearing someone’s face was torn from them, I looked at Jessica for an explanation, while running through a mental catalog of all the demons I could think of that were prone to tearing flesh. “What? Is this someone you know? What happened? Where? Talk!” The last thing we needed in our midst was a flesh-eating demon. My hands were full with rogue vampires and zombies.
Jessica rolled her eyes and glared at me like I’d lost my ever lovin’ mind. “Relax, Wonder Woman. She just watched the season finale of Grey’s Anatomy online and lost it. George is a character from the show. Nobody’s hurt.”
Visibly peeved, Taylor ducked from beneath Jess’s comforting grasp and slid across the floor with a huff. “He wasn’t just a character,” Taylor said, sucking air rapidly, still sobbing. “He was the character, and they turned him into road-kill!”
I stood still for a moment, taking in the sight of my friend sniveling on the floor over a fictional character and lost it. In fact, I laughed so hard I thought I might piddle in my pants. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one to find Taylor’s crying jag comical. Jessica broke out into hysterics as well.
“Whatever, skanks.” Taylor scooted to the far end of the bed and turned her back to us. “You guys suck.”
Jessica, still giggling, picked up a pillow and chucked it at the back of her head. “Oh, stop it, Taylor. You know we love you.”
“Yeah,” I said and cleared my throat. “We’re, uh, sorry George lost his face, and you know…died.”
Sniffing, Taylor turned to face us, eyes red and puffy. She took a few deep breaths and shook her head. “Yeah. Okay.” She stood up, wiped away the last remnants of her tears and fanned herself. “I hate crying. It always makes me sweaty.”
Jessica shifted on the mattress, scooting toward the edge. She pegged Taylor with a raised eyebrow and fanned her hand in front of her face. “Well, okay then, stinky. Guess you better go take a shower before you bowl us over with your stench.”
A deep ache gnawed at my gut. God, I was gonna miss their playful bantering. Even when things got tense, those two knew how to make things better, how to shake things off with a laugh. With a dull pain worming its way up and chipping away at my chest, I turned and snatched my book bag off the back of my desk chair and walked over to the foot of my bed. I released the protective ward I’d placed on my trunk and retrieved the one thing that might possibly have some answers. Once I placed the book into my bag, I turned and quietly started for the door.
“And just where do you think you’re going?”
I looked back over my shoulder to see Jess standing with her hands on her hips, staring at me with her eyebrow raised and a whole lot of Oh, hell, no slapped across her face.
I shrugged, that pesky knot once again forming in my throat. I hated having my friends upset with me. “Out? I know you’re mad, so I just figured…” I trailed off.
Her shoulders fell as she exhaled forcefully. “I’m not mad at you, Martha.” She glanced over at our Australian roommate and back to me. “And neither is Taylor, for that matter. We’re just worried about you. That’s all. We’re here to listen, any time you’re ready. Okay?”
“She’s right, Martha,” Taylor said while deflating the air mattress they’d slept on. “We’re here for you, whenever you need us.”
I shifted in place and looked down at my shoe. “But…you guys were so quiet when I came in earlier. I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”
Jess cupped her face in her hands and then ran them through her hair. “We were just giving you a chance to talk, hoping you’d open up and say something. But you raced out of here like a bat out of hell, looking all butt-hurt and pissed off.”
Oh, thank God! The relief flowing through me felt good, and the tension in my neck and shoulders eased up a bit. Jess and Taylor weren’t angry with me for keeping quiet. They hadn’t written me off. Nope. As usual, I’d overreacted, assuming the worst of my friends, and failed to give them the benefit of the doubt. I hadn’t trusted in our friendship, and as a result I felt like a complete ass.
Somehow I didn’t think “sorry” would cut it, but I had to give it a try. “God…I’m sorry.” I felt a little bit sheepish and a whole lot stupid. “I…uh…don’t know what to say. I’ve got a lot of baggage. You know, crappy childhood?” It was a lame ass excuse, but it was the truth. Growing up an outcast makes you question everyone and everything. All the time. I didn’t like it. I wasn’t proud of it, but it was what it was. I planned to be better. Both for myself and for my friends.
Taylor waved her arm, brushing the entire thing under the rug. “No worries, Martha.”
“Yeah, we’re cool,” Jess said, flashing me a reassuring smile.
Thank God! “Good,” I said, reaching into my bag, pulling out a leather-bound, time worn manual. “Because I need your help. You better sit down. I have a lot to tell you.”
***
“So you’ve been pulling the Alias switcheroo for how long?” Jessica asked, looking completely blown away.
“Ever since Lucian killed my mother. I was eight, so…thirteen years now.” A giant weight had been lifted off my chest and finally — finally I could breathe. It felt good to come clean with my friends about who I really was and what happened to me as a child. I hadn’t realized I’d been floundering under the weight of my circumstances until I opened up to them. And wouldn’t you know it, there was a wonderful freedom that came with having everything out in the open. Singing like a canary had its perks.
Taylor leaned forward, her eyes bright with curiosity. “And do we get to see what you really look like then, if you’ve been wearing a glamour as a disguise?”
I took a deep breath. I was about to break the cardinal rule and reveal my true self. I was a little scared, but more than anything, I was excited. Here goes nothing. My hands wobbled and shook as I lifted them up and over my head, releasing the glamour spell I’d worn for so long.
I closed my eyes and held my breath, as they let out a collective gasp, and waited.
“DAYUM!”
I cracked one eye open to see Taylor eyeballing me with deep appreciation. Once I realized they weren’t running for the hills, I exhaled and relaxed a bit.
“You’re a hottie,” she said, eyes wide, taking in my flaming red curls and blue eyes.
“Yeah, no kidding,” Jessica said, shaking her head in apparent disbelief. “Not that you d
on’t normally look great, but…wow! I don’t even have words, girl.”
My cheeks flamed up, and I wiggled in place under their scrutiny. I wasn’t used to people gushing over my appearance. People usually took one look at me and went the other way. Flattery, even in small doses, always made me uncomfortable. “Thanks. This,” I said, pointing to myself, “is beyond strange to me. I’m so used to my Martha look, that seeing myself this way seems so foreign and, I don’t know…weird.”
“Geez.” Taylor shook her head, eyes still wide. “So, do I still call you Martha, or is it Ainsley now?”
I fiddled with the hem of my shirt and blew out another breath. “I’ve been Martha for the past thirteen years. That’s who I am now. Ainsley is…well, she’s just gone.” I lifted my hands over my head once more, retreating back into the safety of my alter ego. A tinge of panic sent my heart beating faster. I leaned forward and gave both girls a level stare.
“Listen up. You guys can’t tell anyone what I’ve told you. Seriously. This isn’t just about my safety anymore. It’s about yours too. Lucian wouldn’t hesitate to come after you if he thought it would lead him to me.”
They looked at each other, faces pale, before nodding. An appropriate amount of “scared shitless” was smeared across their faces, so I felt reasonably comfortable they wouldn’t blab, even under duress.
Jess hugged her knees, pulling them into her chest. “So…why is Lucian after you anyway? Why’d he kill your mom and grandma?” The room fell oddly silent, her question hanging in the air like an oppressive storm cloud.
I took a deep breath and blew it out. That was the million-dollar question. Why was he after me? The hell if I knew. Lucian was a sick, evil fucker, and I didn’t have a clue as to his motivations. World domination? Sadism? Maybe he got off on other people’s pain? I rubbed my eyes and ran my fingers through my hair. Trying to navigate the inner workings on Lucian’s mind was impossible and altogether unpleasant.
