Perdition

by PM Drummond

I pulled away from him. “Samuel is a . . .”

  Rune smiled. “Vampire. Yes. He is vampire.”

  “But it was just dusk. The sun—”

  “He wears a black leather coat with a hood and slathers on sunscreen. Even then, he goes out as late as he can. The sun’s pull to sleep is strong.”

  I stepped out of his embrace and drew a deep breath to clear my mind.

  “Did you . . . you know . . . turn him?” I rubbed my neck where Rune’s lips had been moments before.

  “No. I did not create him. Someone less attentive created him. I just provided him a less destructive path to follow.”

  “Oh.”

  Reality flooded back into my brain like a face full of cold water. I was in what amounted to a wooden box with a vampire. I didn’t believe in vampires a week ago. Now I was surrounded by not only vampires but werewolves. What was I doing?

  I stepped back and bumped the wall.

  “That kiss just now. Was that your doing or mine?”

  Rune leaned against the table. His black jeans, T-shirt, leather jacket, and biker boots gave him the look of a modern day pirate, but his bearing held a distinctive touch of class no pirate would have. He smiled.

  “I may have given a small suggestion. The rest was a natural occurrence. Was it such an unpleasant experience?”

  “No. I mean, I don’t know.”

  Rune laughed. “Would you like to go home with me now, Marlena?”

  The pros and cons of going home with Rune collided at all angles in my brain. He represented danger in many ways besides the fact that he wasn’t human. I had to keep reminding myself of that as I looked at him.

  Finally, I sighed, and my shoulders dropped. “Yes,” I said.

  Rune reached out and grasped my hands. He pulled me away from the wall seconds before it collapsed outward. I jumped into his arms and looked around, my heart racing.

  “Did you do that?” I said.

  He scanned the now-destroyed enclosure with a look of surprise and admiration. “No. I believe you did.”

  He pulled away from the table, grabbed my backpack and overnight bag off the floor, and led me by the hand around the minefield of overturned tables and benches until we stood outside. Griss and Bader leaned against a nearby pickup. Bader wore loose jersey shorts and nothing else. His right leg sported a deep gash and blood flowed in a small rivulet onto the dirt below. Other than the four of us, the compound stood deserted.

  Cool night air washed over me. Eyes closed, I tilted my head back and breathed the fresh air. The wolves’ energy tingled far into the forest but was fading fast into the night.

  “You and trouble are on a first name basis I see,” Griss said. A sly smile peeked from his full beard. The beard now sported a few thin braids with small turquoise beads woven into them here and there. With his wild blond hair flowing over his leather vest and bare chest, he looked like a Viking Hell’s Angel.

  “They’re more like blood relatives,” Bader said. He glanced uneasily at Rune’s face.

  “Damn,” Griss said, “I haven’t seen your eyes glow like that since we took out that mercenary cell down in South America. What was that—eighty men?”

  “Griss,” Rune warned.

  “Oh right,” Griss said as he rolled his eyes. “She hasn’t noticed your eyes and she forgot that you’re a—”

  Rune’s low voice shook the leaves of the giant tree overhead. “Enough.”

  Griss laughed and grabbed Bader’s elbow to help him sit on the truck bumper.

  “Are you okay?” I tried to walk toward Bader, but Rune tightened his hold on my hand. I glared back at him, and he shook his head slightly. For some reason, he wanted me to keep my distance from Bader. Or was it Griss?

  “I’m fine. It’s just my leg.” Bader held up a hand to warn me off. “I’ll turn after you’re gone. It’ll speed the healing.”

  He nodded toward two Harleys. Their black paint and chrome glowed in the moonlight. Cooling exhaust pipes ticked a metronome rhythm.

  “What time is it?” I said.

  Rune glanced toward the star-filled sky. “It is less than five hours until sunrise.”

  I darted a glance from the motorcycles to Rune. “Sunrise? How will we get back in time?”

  “We will meet Tony at the Big T truck stop near Ketchum. Griss and I and the motorcycles rode in the back of the van with Tony driving until sunset. The panel van would never had made it here in time.”

  Thinking of some of the impossibly narrow roads I’d travelled to get here, I saw his point.

  Several howls split the air. The hair on my arms waved in response.

  “The wolves . . .” I said.

  Rune released my hand and put his arm around me. Besides my grandmother, I’d never had much physical contact with anyone. I tried to relax and fight the warring impulses to pull away or put my arms around him. His touch was odd but comforting, foreign but like coming home. I really didn’t know him at all, but it was like there had been a place for him in my life all along.

  He turned an unfocused gaze toward the dark forest.

  “Yes,” he said. “It would seem our friends wish to return home. Time to go.”

  He tossed my overnight bag to Griss to strap onto his Harley. Then Rune helped me stow my backpack in the motorcycle’s side bag and retrieved a helmet for me. I hesitated and then took it from him.

  “I’ve never actually ridden.”

  He swung a leg over the gleaming black machine and pulled it upright. He lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss into my palm. His eyes glowed in the darkness and a slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

  “I shall enjoy being your first.”

  My face heated. I dropped the helmet and jumped when it hit the ground beside me. I yanked my hand from him and picked up the helmet wondering, between Dr. Sarkis and Rune, who posed the greatest threat.

  Rune nodded to Bader. “My thanks to you, friend.”

  Bader nodded at Rune then winked at me.

  I pulled the helmet over my head and Rune helped me fasten it. He pulled off his leather jacket and held it out. I threaded my arms into the musky leather and cuddled into its buttery softness. I climbed onto the seat behind him and with a push of a button, the motorcycle roared to life. He guided my arms around his waist. The sensual feel of him through his tight black T-shirt combined with the vibration of the motorcycle between my legs sent spikes of energy through me and into him. He patted my hand and chuckled as the motorcycle leaped forward.

  I learned quickly how to lean into the turns and keep my balance on the behemoth bike. An initial ten minutes of fear melted into excitement and joy at the feel of the ride, but the excitement didn’t build my energy level. While I was pressed against Rune’s back, my excess energy simply melted into him. It was a different feeling than when he pulled energy from me. This was more of an unconscious ebb of my energy. A melding.

  For the first half of the journey, I let my mind empty and enjoyed the sensations of vibration, rushing night air, and my body wrapped around Rune. But dark thoughts refused to be kept at bay for long.

  The last few days crashed in on me. Flashes of Bob Smith, Dr. Sarkis, and Aunt Tibby intruded, accompanied by worry and fear in waves of panic that squeezed my lungs. I took a deep breath, hugged Rune tighter, and laid the side of my helmeted head on his back. The panic eased, and I managed to push through the fear and sort the events of the last few days.

  How could I have been so stupid and trusting with Bob Smith? Was he my chat room buddy, Mike Williams? Or was it Dr. Sarkis who I’d been communicating with all this time? I had to face the fact that I had led them right to me—and Aunt Tibby. Aunt Tibby had successfully hidden for years, and I’d shown them right to her doorstep. A deep ache took up residence in my chest.

  Rune reached down and patted my leg. He’d said that his powers were similar to mine. He could read emotions as well as thoughts. That comforted and frightened me. I’d spent my whole life alone because
of this curse. Sharing emotions or anything else in my life didn’t come naturally.

  I was still trying to sort out my plans when we arrived at the Big T truck stop. Adjacent to the highway, it was an obvious favorite of not only truckers but RVers and bikers. We pulled up to the almost-full motorcycle parking in the front, but at the last minute, Rune waved Griss off, and their Harleys roared around to a darker back area of the truck stop. Rune and Griss parked their motorcycles next to dumpsters near an open back entrance.

  I got off the motorcycle and pulled off my helmet. The smell of the fetid garbage made my stomach churn, and I could feel dozens of small life signals that were probably rats within the immediate area.

  “Why didn’t we park out front?” I said.

  “Zamora’s Zion Riders,” Griss said. “The biggest pains in the ass on the road.”

  “Why?”

  Rune got off his motorcycle and took my hand in his. “They are Christians who are obsessed with fighting the occult. Some of them are seers and can sense our kind,” he said.

  “So they know you’re vampires?” I said.

  “Not necessarily, no,” Rune said. “But they know that we are different.”

  Griss chuffed. “They either try to save us, exorcize us, or kill us. Holy water doesn’t hurt us, but it stains the leather.”

  Rune and I followed Griss through the door into a back hallway of the truck stop that lead into the main grocery area. Bathrooms and pay shower stalls lined the hall. I stopped in front of the ladies room.

  “I need to stop here,” I said.

  Rune scanned the hall. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll be in the front. Would you like the usual?” He smiled.

  “If you mean Gatorade or something like it, yes. Thank you.”

  I shoved the ladies room door open and went inside. I chose the farthest stall, trying to distance myself from the busy shopping area down the hall. With my emotions in turmoil and without Rune siphoning off my excess, I already tingled with power and didn’t need any more.

  As I sat there, someone entered the room. I peeked out the crack in the stall door and saw a blonde woman in riding leathers. Waves of high energy wafted from her. Her signature was identical to Darcy and Tweaks with the artificial taint of drugs. She chose the stall near the hall and latched the door.

  I finished and stepped out to wash my hands. I was almost done when the woman, who must have been the fastest potty goer ever, walked out. She strode to a sink and squinted at herself in the mirror, pulling on her eyelids and looking at her eyes. She glanced at me and frowned as I reached for a towel.

  Someone banged on the bathroom door and yelled, “Let’s go.”

  I jumped and looked at the door. The woman grimaced. Our eyes met, and I quickly looked away from her pinpointed pupils back to my mirror.

  “What?” she said.

  I shook my head and tried to block her spike of energy and anger.

  “You have a problem?” she asked.

  I pulled towels from the dispenser, stood over a trashcan, and concentrated on drying my hands. She stepped toward me and animosity surged from her. The trashcan shot toward her, but I clamped down on my energy and it stopped after only two feet.

  The woman jumped back then stalked toward me, calling me a name that would make a sailor blush. Her attitude, nasty feeling energy, and just generally the last few days flooded my psyche all at once, and I glared at her, letting all the malevolence and irritation overflowing my mind show on my face. She stopped. Something she saw wiped the anger off her expression and replaced it with caution. Her mouth opened and shut a few times in mute surprise. Finally regaining some semblance of thought, she turned and called me a bitch as she fled out the door.

  I held my hand to my pounding heart and tried to catch my breath. A look in the mirror showed my bright, almost glowing, green eyes shining back at me from a pale face. The eyes were a little weird, but whatever had put the fear of God into the woman was gone. She and I were both lucky she hadn’t been hurt.

  I’d been able to control an energy burst, and I’d stopped the trash can before it hit her. I’d felt the energy and pulled it back—it had obeyed to me. I tried to recreate what I’d done. I turned to the trash can and shoved it with power, then clinched the same spot in my mind I had a moment ago, and the trash can stopped. I did it two more times, and it worked. This was marvelous. I was gaining some modicum of control.

  I left the bathroom in a cloud of happiness. I stopped short when I got a few feet outside the back door.

  The woman from the bathroom stood with at least a dozen men standing beside gleaming motorcycles. They wore leather vests with flaming skulls stitched on the front left and on the back. The group exuded emotions and thoughts that were more primitive than the werewolves I’d left behind at the compound. Most of them had the same tainted, drug-induced energy as the girl.

  “There she is.” The woman pointed at me. “The bitch threw a trashcan at me.”

  I turned back to the door, but a barrel-shaped man with long, greasy hair slammed it and leaned against it. He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled.

  I turned back to the woman.

  “Listen,” I said. “I was just moving the trash can. I wasn’t trying to hit you. I’m sorry if you thought so.”

  I thought of my father to shut down the sizzle racing through my system, but I was too scared to hold the thought well enough to block the blanket of erratic energy around me.

  “Bullshit,” the woman said.

  The man near her took a few sauntering steps toward me.

  “We just can’t have people attacking one of our own.” He looked me up and down. “No matter how good they look.”

  “Look,” I said, “this is a misunderstanding. My friends will be here any second. I’m sure we can work something out.”

  The man looked at Rune and Griss’s polished Harleys parked a few feet from his own motorcycle. He chuffed.

  “City bikes. City boys. They don’t have anything to say that’ll impress me.” He took a few more steps toward me. “Now, you on the other hand, you and me and the boys here might have a nice little conversation.”

  The woman laughed behind him.

  My skin tingled and my chest burned. Tears threatened along my eyelids. How could my nice, boring life have come to this? I couldn’t even go pee without causing havoc. One of the dumpster lids rattled.

  The man in front of me nodded to the man by the door. “See who or what’s in that dumpster and kill it.”

  The barrel-shaped man walked to the dumpster, lifted the lid and looked in.

  “Nothing in here, Vic.” He let the lid drop again and resumed his post in front of the door.

  Vic shrugged and took another step toward me. A swirling ball burned behind my breastbone, and it took every bit of my concentration to keep it there. A small burst shot from the top of my head into the night sky.

  “Look, Vic,” I said. “Please leave me alone. I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

  He and his men laughed.

  “Oh that’s good,” he said. “Quite the humanitarian, huh guys?”

  He advanced further until he stood inches away. The smell of sweaty leather crept its way into my nose. I clamped down on myself a little tighter. I would not kill anyone else. Not that I wouldn’t mind hurting these people a little, but I didn’t know if my abilities knew the fine line between the two.

  I thought Rune’s name. I formed an image of him in my mind and pushed it toward the door in a burst of energy. I saw the man leaning against the door shift slightly and swat at something.

  I formed the image again and pushed a larger burst of energy. The man at the door jumped and looked around.

  “Shit. That hurt. What the hell was that?” he said.

  “That,” I said, looking into Vic’s eyes, “is what I was talking about.”

  The back door burst off its hinges. The barrel-shaped man flew through the air like trash in a heavy wind. Rune and Griss
appeared beside me. The pack of startled bikers recovered quickly and advanced.

  “Try to appear human,” Rune said softly to Griss. “And try not to kill anyone.”

  “Oh, like that’s any fun,” Griss said.

  Rune put a hand on my shoulder and drew off some of my energy. A soft glow lit his eyes. Griss looked at Rune’s eyes, then grabbed my elbow for a few seconds and his own eyes flared. He let go and smiled.

  “Shit howdy,” he shouted. He leaped through the air onto Vic and five other bikers immediately jumped him.

  Rune and Griss moved with more than human speed but less than the lightening-fast vampire speed I’d seen them use before. A wicked smiled split Griss’s bushy red beard as he punched attackers. Every few seconds, he’d yell and spin out a kick to someone’s head.

  Even though Rune wasn’t whooping and grinning, I could tell he enjoyed fighting beside his friend.

  I was all but forgotten by the men as they charged Rune and Griss, and that was fine by me. I backed away toward the mangled doorway of the truck stop. Half of the bikers were now on the ground. Blood flowed in copious amounts from wounds that mostly centered on their faces. As the blood increased, the feeling of the vampires changed. Griss flashed fangs when he shouted. Not a blatant show but they were there if you knew to look for them. A heaviness pulled at the air. The vampires’ lack of energy signal changed to a black hole pulling energy into them.

  My attention froze on Rune. The lines of his handsome face sharpened, giving him a feral look. He kept his teeth more concealed than Griss, but there was no hiding his eyes. The irises glowed ice blue as they had before, but now the pupils shone black-red and dilated so wide they pushed the blue out so that no white showed.

  Three more bikers fell into the human heap the vampires were creating. My back hit the door frame. I hadn’t realized I was still moving. As the blood on the ground increased, Rune and Griss’s humanity decreased. Sharp cheekbones jutted forward. Lips thinned into cruel parodies of smiles. Rune’s long, curly hair billowed away from his face on a nonexistent wind. A shirtless biker covered in blood from a head wound charged Rune and wrapped him in a bear hug. Rune’s mouth flashed open and his teeth struck the man’s neck. Griss descended on his attacker’s neck and kicked two more men unconscious as he fed.