“A choice?”
“He said I didn’t seem too bad. I might be able to adjust to it, maybe have a regular life of sorts. Or I could join him and help fight the vampires. Nobody had ever asked me to help with anything before in my life. I was just a punk kid. I couldn’t see much future except for working night security somewhere, making minimum wage. I decided I wanted to do something better, something that was important. What’s more important than stopping vampires?”
He glanced over at Sebastian. Sebastian shrugged.
“The In-Between took me to London and I ended up living with Corbin Remington. He got me into research. I’d never had much use for books and such in school, too busy causing trouble, but when I had a purpose, it made all the difference and I realized I was good at it. I could remember and cross reference things faster even than Corbin. Losing him was such a waste.”
“That’s how you knew about the book,” Sebastian said.
Gareth nodded. “I’d heard of it, researched about it but never saw it. We knew Frank had information about it, heard it had been out on the west coast but I spent most of my time in England except for a few years in central Europe. That’s where I was when the book showed up and everything went down.”
He glanced back at Sebastian again just as he turned the wheel to the left.
Sebastian realized they were driving down a suburban street. When had they entered the city? How had he not noticed? He’d been so focused on Gareth’s story. Now he stared out the windows at the houses passing. The last rays of sunlight splashed across the pale blue sky, darkening to night. He watched well manicured lawns with straight driveways leading to double car garages perched in front of large, two story houses, or ending in single car ports attached to single story bungalows. His family lived in an older subdivision, not filled with cookie cutter houses but with a range of different houses.
Sebastian had always liked that about the neighborhood. It felt more homey, more natural, than the same house repeated endlessly.
But something seemed wrong here.
He couldn’t tell what it was. The houses looked the same, a few with newly painted walls or new siding. Lawns looked well cared for. A few gardens had different plants in them. Nothing that would cause this anxiety.
He was just anxious to be home. That was all. He was so close and in a few minutes, he’d be there. How would he explain himself to his parents? He hadn’t even thought about it, had only been focused on getting to them, on protecting them.
Any possible explanation had dropped out of his head.
It didn’t matter. He’d deal with it, as long as Charlie kept his mouth shut.
Sebastian glanced over his shoulder into the back seat. Charlie looked back, mostly solid in the fading light. Charlie’s lips pressed tight together. He gave Sebastian a nod.
Okay, that wasn’t the reaction Sebastian had been expecting. He thought Charlie might give him a rude gesture or something. But maybe death had mellowed his friend.
Yeah, he’d been so mellow so far.
Gareth reached the end of the street. A right turn here onto Meadow Vale Boulevard and just down the street a few blocks. Sebastian’s hands tightened into fists in his lap. He was just nervous. That was all.
That was what he told himself.
He spotted the police caution tape before they were halfway down the block.
His hand grabbed the door handle and yanked up. The door buzzed but the lock stayed engaged.
“Sebastian, what are you doing?” Gareth said.
“My house,” Sebastian said.
“Just wait, we’re almost there.”
Sebastian’s hand kept tugging at the door handle. He stared down at it. It was like he couldn’t control it. His hand had a mind of its own. It wanted the door open and was going to keep tugging until it did. How strange. Why did it want the door open so badly?
Gareth angled the car to the right, pulling up behind a dark minivan that had parked two houses down from Sebastian’s parents’ place. Minivans were pretty common in this neighborhood but not black ones with blacked out windows. As Gareth stopped the car, the back of the minivan swung open.
Jessica jumped out.
Sebastian tugged on the door.
She hurried to the passenger’s side of the car. He watched how her ponytail swung from side to side along her back. Did it look longer than before? The last rays of the sun gave an almost golden highlight to her hair. How he longed to touch it, run his fingers through her hand. Bury his face in it and never look up again. Never look at that yellow tape…
His hand released the handle just as Jessica wrenched the door open.
“Sebastian,” she said.
He folded himself out of the car. After hours on the highway and at the rest stop, the rush of air smelled sweet and clean. He could pick out the roses three houses down and the daisies across the street. The heady scent of fresh cut grass hung in the air, making him think of summer days and sitting in the backyard eating watermelon. His mother always made them sit outside because he and his brother ended up spitting the seeds at each other.
When was the last time he’d done that with Callum?
Years.
(Now maybe never again.)
What was that? Where had that come from? Bullshit, that was bullshit.
“Sebastian,” Jessica said again.
The breeze rose up, bringing a stronger scent of roses, brushing several stray strands of Jessica’s hair across her forehead. The yellow tape behind her snapped and rustled, almost as if calling for his attention. As if he didn’t notice.
As if he didn’t see it stretching across the front lawn of his parents’ house.
The house floated forward. Or he was moving. He couldn’t tell. He blinked and he was at the front door. A hand grabbed his arm, tugged at him.
“Sebastian, don’t go in there.”
Jessica’s voice, right in his ear. He started to turn toward her. He had so much he wanted to say to her, to apologize, to ask for her help.
He stood in the living room.
Beige carpet. His mother’s choice, although she hated how often she had to vacuum it. She complained whenever she had to do it but then enjoyed the smooth look of it afterward. The way it complimented the navy plush couch and arms chairs set in front of the bay window.
Dad’s photos hung on the back wall, his portraits of autumn leaves and rusted tools. He’d always been able to take regular objects and make them beautiful, just by changing the angle or the light. They hung behind frameless glass on the white walls.
Both mom and dad would be upset about all that red...
Paint. It had to be paint. Vandals must have broken in. Splashed paint around. Dull reddish brown paint.
That smelled the same as dried blood.
Puddles on the beige carpet. His mother would be furious. He’d better get some cleaner, scrub it out before she got home. She’d think he did it.
She’d blame him.
His fault. All his fault.
A hand on his arm tightened, pulling him away.
“Sebastian, come on.”
Jessica’s voice. He turned to her. Worry on her face, crinkling around her eyes and mouth, creating lines that aged her. Lines that shouldn’t be there. Worried for him.
His fault.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said.
But his parents. Callum.
The front lawn. Warm, familiar scent of cut grass filled his nostril, driving out the scent of paint
(blood)
that he’d breathed in in the house.
Where were his parents, his brother?
Jessica’s hand on his arm tightened. “Sebastian.”
“My parents,” he said.
She shook her head.
They must not have been home, not there when the vandals broke in to splash the paint
(blood)
around the living room.
“They’re gone,” she said. “Do you hear me?
Sebastian, they’re dead.”
No, that was ridiculous. He shook his head. She was wrong, they weren’t dead. They hadn’t been home when it had been vandalized. That was obvious. His parents would never have let that happen, never let vandals splash red paint
(blood)
around. They must have been out somewhere. Visiting someone, or shopping. They hadn’t been home. They hadn’t.
“Callum,” he said.
Now Jessica shook her head. “I don’t know. We didn’t find anything. None of that... It wasn’t him. We couldn’t find any trace.”
Callum hadn’t been home. If Callum hadn’t been home, neither had his parents. They wouldn’t let him go out without them. Well, maybe to a friend’s house... but no, they hadn’t been there. They hadn’t. It was paint.
It was paint!
All he had to do was find Callum, visit his friends, find him and Callum would know were their parents were. Easy. It would all be fixed easy. Then there wouldn’t be any blame.
No fault.
It wouldn’t be his fault.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
He didn’t know who he was talking to, it just seemed like it would be the right thing to say. The only thing he could ever say. The only thing he’d ever say again.
I’m sorry.
Sorry to Jessica, to his parents, to Charlie, to Alexa, to everyone, but most of all to Callum.
Callum.
Where are you, Callum?
Part Two: Soul
CHAPTER 11
The boy lay curled on his side on the dirty concrete floor. Alexa had wondered about the dirt when they first got here. Was it clay? Top soil? While the boy whimpered and curled himself into a ball, she sniffed at the dirt and rolled specks of it around in her fingers. Just garden variety dirt, she decided.
Should have been graveyard dirt. That would have been more fitting.
A crypt would have been even more fitting, or some decrepit, rotting mansion, but she had to settle for this abandoned factory in the south end of town. Some old furniture place, she could tell from the faint hint of furniture polish and sawdust that still seemed to linger about the place. She really thought she’d be out of town sooner but it had taken her longer to find the house and then once she was there... well, she just couldn’t stop herself from indulging. She’d wanted to wait until Sebastian got there but it had been too tempting.
She had to give in.
Constantine had told her about waiting for the opportune moment, had promised to teach her about holding back her baser instincts, prolonging the joy.
But he was gone now. Everything was gone.
All that was left was retribution.
All that was left was the boy.
And oh, he’d tasted sweet.
She could still smell him from here, where she crouched against the wall beneath the stairs leading from the main floor to this basement. She’d locked and blocked the door so no one could wander down here. The boy didn’t actually need to be down here. She hadn’t turned him just yet. Wasn’t even sure if she was going to.
She hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Originally, she was going to kill them all. As her nails sliced open the woman’s jugular, spraying blood across the living room wall and splashing across those bland, boring photographs on the wall, Alexa had really just thought of killing all of them, drinking herself sick and getting out. Even when the man jumped at her, howling and swinging a hammer toward her head, she snapped his neck with one twist of her hands, letting his body jerk and spasm before dumping it on the floor. She still planned to drink from him; his blood would still be delicious even if he was just dead.
Then she spotted the boy in the doorway.
The familiar shock of black hair swept across his forehead, sticking out from the back of his head. Similar wide blue eyes. The angle of his face almost the same, just a touch different, just a touch rounder, looking more like the mother than the father. Thin, like he was, but shorter, definitely shorter. Not fully grown to his height yet.
He never would if Alexa had anything to say about it.
And he smelled delicious.
Fear seeped from his pores. The sharp stench of urine pierced the air as he pissed himself. The flood of pheromones signaling shock and anxiety. As she dropped the man from her hands, letting the body flop to the floor, the boy shrieked. His voice echoed high off the ceiling, sharp and keening. Oh, how she wanted to kill him, wanted to swipe her hand across his face, slice open his neck with her claws and drink from the wellspring of blood that gushed out.
But he looked so much like him.
So much like Sebastian.
And she got a better idea.
Now he curled up in the dirt on the concrete floor in the basement. Whimpering. She could hear his whimpering in the darkness.
Just like he’d whimpered when she bit his neck for a first drink.
She took just a few swallows, just enough to allow his taste to permeate her, so she could call him from wherever she was. Not enough to turn him, not even enough to draw him to that horrid twilight in-between state. Just enough to bind him to her.
Enough to claim him.
And suddenly that seemed a more fitting retribution. Death was too quick. Too simple. She regretted killing his father so fast. But the mother... That still had possibilities even as her blood soaked into the carpet. Her body had still jerked a little as her heart pumped.
Alexa sent the boy to wait in the hall while she finished with the mother.
By then, it was only an hour or so til dawn. Not enough time to get out of town. Just enough time to find a hiding place for the day.
So here they were, in an abandoned furniture depot. She could hear rats scurrying in the walls. Smell their little ratty bodies. She’d eaten her share when there wasn’t a human around. But now she had the boy.
She’d have to be careful though. He was still young, still small. It would be too easy to get carried away and drain him completely. That wouldn’t do at all.
Not with what she had planned.
Oh, this might turn out to be better than she could have ever hoped.
The boy whimpered again. The plaintive sound echoed in the darkness, making her smile.
Oh yes, this was going to turn just about perfect.
She smiled as she breathed in the scent of the boy’s blood.
Maybe just one more taste. She wasn’t really hungry but she wanted to be sure he was bound to her.
After all, it suited her plans nicely.
When her hand closed around his upper arm, the boy cried out and started to cry. Poor thing. Too bad his brother had ruined everything for her.
Payback was a bitch, and so was she.
She sank her fangs into the boy’s arm and drank until his cries diminished into whimpers.
Ah yes, nothing like fresh blood.
She could get used to this.
CHAPTER 12
Sebastian stood at the back of the black van, standing in the shade from a large tree at the end of the gas station parking lot. He didn’t quite remember driving here. Hands had pushed him into the van. Her hands. Jessica holding onto his arm as they drove away even as he tried to reach for the door to get out.
Callum, he had to find Callum.
“We’ll find him,” Jessica said. She kept saying it, as if answering him.
Had he actually spoken out loud?
The heady scent of gasoline brought him back to the gas station. The white and red brick convenience store sat off to his left, behind the set of four gas pumps. The pumps cast long shadows across the grey asphalt, as if reaching for the store. Already mid afternoon. How long had they been at the house? It felt like moments. It felt like years.
Gareth and one of the other In-Between, a man Sebastian didn’t know, had gone into the convenience store a few moments ago.
Jessica stood a few feet away, arms folded across her chest. A light breeze teased at the loose strands of hair and fluttered them acros
s her forehead. He wanted to brush them back into her pony tail. But he didn’t move.
He didn’t have the right to touch her anymore.
His fault.
Everything was his fault.
And it would stay that way until he did something. He had to do something.
He pushed away from the van. His legs shook. He weaved as if he were drunk. But all he had to do was start moving, just get moving.
He took a step, then another.
“Sebastian, where are you going?”
Jessica hurried over. Her hand on his arm stopped him short. He didn’t have the strength to pull away.
“I have to,” he said. “I have to go. I have to do something.”
“Do what?” she said. “You can’t just run off with no idea. Dammit, Sebastian, for once let me help you.”
Angry, of course she was angry. He deserved her anger. Deserved whatever she dealt out to him.
But Callum couldn’t wait.
“Callum,” he said.
“I know,” she said. “We’re already looking for him. Joan is tracking down his friends. We’re checking the hospitals and the morgue. Give us a little time.”
He blinked at her. They had already started doing that?
“When?” he said.
“As soon as we found your house in that state,” she said. Her hand tightened on his arm. “It’s not the first time an In-Between’s family has been targeted.”
Targeted. That’s what Alexa had done. Targeted his family. If only he’d gotten here sooner.
“You couldn’t have stopped this, Sebastian,” Jessica said.
He shook his head. “How do you know?”
Her lips thinned. “She would have just waited until you were gone, or until you let your guard down. Once a vampire decides to do this, the only way to stop it is to kill them.”
“I would have,” he said. “I will.”
“Sebastian, I’m so sorry,” she said.
She was sorry? What did she have to be sorry about? She’d done everything for him, always been supportive and he’d disappointed her. He shook his head.
Her hand touched his face. Her skin felt smooth and cool against his cheek. He wished he could smell her but all he could smell was a trace of soap and the overriding stench of gasoline.
Retribution of Soul: Book 3 of the In-Between Page 14
