by Kelley York
He isn't listening. Algonquin backs up a good twenty feet, eyeing the wall.
"Dude, no way. Don't even."
He crouches slightly, legs poised.
"Daniel."
And gives himself a running start before leaping. In my head, this ends badly. I envision him slamming right into the wall and sliding down it in some stupid, cartoonish fashion.
But Algonquin catches the top of the wall and continues right on over to the other side, out of sight.
Huh.
I remember how easily Oliver cleared the river at the park and wonder if I'm capable of that kind of thing, too. I could jump it, couldn't I?
Yeah. Let's just stick to climbing.
Algonquin is waiting when I drop to the other side, my fingers sore and a hole in the knee of my jeans.
"Great. We're here. Now what?" A little hard to think that Oliver's been hiding out in a cemetery since last night, but if it's a start, it's better than nothing. And if that blonde bitch led him here and hurt him, we're going to have words.
The sky is red and thick with clouds overhead. This kind of overcast means it's going to get dark a lot quicker than usual, and the light is fading fast. Algonquin starts sniffing around again, picking his way through the maze of graves.
It's an old cemetery, so there aren't many boring slabs of cement serving as markers. Instead there are towering statues and aged headstones, crypts and family burial plots, lined with naked rose bushes that'll bloom come spring. Thick covers of trees cast gloomy shadows over everything. Beautiful in the day, creepy as hell in the waning light.
We follow the perimeter, Algonquin searching for signs of Oliver, me keeping an eye out for any maintenance-type-guys that might be lingering after hours. A bird rustles in the branches overhead, makes Algonquin stop, ears prick up, flatten again before continuing to slink along.
After a moment, he makes a sharp turn and takes off down a narrow path, leaving me in the dust. I don't want to yell after him in case we aren't alone. Algonquin disappears around a bend, obscured by trees and shrubbery at the end of the long path. A path that feels familiar, what with the looming angel statue off to one side and the marble tomb straight ahead...
It takes me a minute. Everything looks so much different in the dark, but the trees give it away. Willows in neat lines on either side of the trail, their branches forming a perfect archway. I stop beneath them, tipping my head back.
Oh. Yeah. I see it now. Were it a few hours earlier, shafts of sunlight would be peaking through, dust particles glinting in the air.
Eight months ago, Noah and I had our first official date here. Sure, we had gone out a few times together, but neither of us had yet uttered the "D" word. Proof of how perfect he was? That he asked me where I wanted to go and didn't bat an eye when I said, "The cemetery."
We ate soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and chips in front of the tomb up ahead. Quieter, less crowded than any park would have been, and the scenery couldn't be beat. Afterward, we wandered the grounds for hours.
But it was here, under these willows, that we were walking hand-in-hand, when his phone rang. Work. It was always work. Normally, he'd give me an apologetic smile and slip out of the room to take the call. Sometimes he'd have to leave shortly after that, but—that time, Noah drew out his phone and silenced it without so much as glancing to see who it was.
"Don't you need to answer that...?"
"No." He slipped the cell back into his pocket. "I told them I was unavailable today."
My heart fluttered as he gave me one of those sunny Noah smiles I'd come to absolutely adore. "Lucky me." I knew it was stupid to expect a guy I'd seen a handful of times to drop his big, important work life just for me. Even if I had no idea what that work-life was. "What's the special occasion?"
Noah shrugged, draping an arm around my shoulders. "Our first date. Like...date-date."
"The other times weren't dates?"
"Well, sure. I guess." He paused, thoughtful. "But not like real ones. We never called them dates."
I tried not to smile. "So what makes this a date-date? Are you expecting to get lucky at the end of the night?" The fact that Noah had never made it a point to so much as kiss me, let alone go farther, always seemed weird. Maybe because I'd heard all the horror stories from Ruby about boys she kicked to the curb because they couldn't keep their hands off her. Noah was nothing like any of them. For awhile, I'd almost wondered if he wasn't interested in me, or girls at all. The first time he even tried to hold my hand was pretty exciting.
But if he thought it was a date, then I figured I could throw the not-interested theory out the window.
"I'm lucky right now," he said, grinning in a way that suggested he thought he was oh-so smooth and charming. I let him have that one.
"Touché, D'angelo. Touché." I leaned into him. "You're being awfully sweet. I take it that means you aren't staying long this time."
Judging by the sigh, I knew I had him.
"Only a few days. But I wanted to make the most of it while I could."
He sounded guilty. It bothered me. As much as I wanted Noah to miss me when we were apart, I never wanted him to feel bad for putting his work first. I shrugged it off, wrapping my arms around his waist, making it difficult to walk but the nearness was worth it.
"Then we'll make the most of it. Where are you headed this time? France, Australia, New Jersey?"
He laughed, reaching out with a free hand and snagging one of the willow branches, brushing the leaves against my cheek. "Can I ask you something?"
Side-stepping my question, but I was used to it. Where he was going was top-secret, classified info, after all. Very hush-hush. "Shoot."
Noah stopped walking, his gaze on me intense. "If you could travel any place in the world... No, rather, if you could just...drop everything in your life and run away, where would you go?"
Admittedly, I'd thought about things like that before so the answer came easily. "Ireland." There was something about the rolling countryside, the castles and the history that had always been fascinating.
He quirked a smile. "Went there once, a long time ago."
I elbowed him. "If you asked me that just to brag..."
"No, no." His arm dropped away from my shoulders and he gathered both my hands in his instead. "I want to take you there someday." The shock on my face made him laugh again, albeit nervously. Like he wasn't sure whether I was freaked out or amazed by the prospect. Lucky for him, it was the latter.
"You want to take me on some vacation overseas?"
"If it's some place you really want to go, then we'll go." He brought my hands up, pressing a kiss to my chilled fingers. "Maybe for your birthday. Though I guess that'd be a hard present to top the year after that."
My birthday was a ways off; I turned eighteen not that long ago, but the idea that Noah wanted to take me on a trip anywhere made me want to bounce up and down and clap like a five-year-old getting a pony.
"You're something else, cowboy," I said, lacing my fingers behind his neck, drawing his forehead to mine. "So let me ask...for the guy who's been everywhere, what's something you've always wanted to do? Since you've got traveling the world covered."
"Mm... Anything? Anything at all?" Noah's eyes practically sparkled. His hands settled on my hips, kicking my heartbeat into overdrive.
"Anything," I murmured.
His eyes fell closed for the span of a breath. When he opened them again his expression was warmer, softer, absolutely entrancing.
"This," he said.
And he kissed me.
I was so warm in that moment. Nevermind the slight chill in the air. For the space of those minutes that his mouth was on mine, nothing else mattered. Not my parents, not my failure at maintaining college, not my work schedule or my dead sister. Just Noah and the promise that someday, he and I might travel the world together and leave all the painful stuff behind.
Lukewarm memories. There is no sunlight, no Noah with his arms aro
und me. Just a dark cemetery and branches heavy with the weight of the world. The path stretches out before and behind me and I realize that, in my daze, I've completely lost track of Algonquin.
Super.
Better to head back the way I came, take a different route. We'll cover more ground if we're split up and he'll hear me call if I need him.
I sigh and resume walking. I didn't sense anyone nearby, but maybe I should have been trying harder. A figure stands far up the path, beyond the willows. I barely make him out save for the subtle shift in the shadows, making my heart stutter.
I blink and he's gone.
Seeing things. That's all it is. If someone were here, I would have sensed them. Unless my vampire GPS thingy is broken...is that possible? Then again, if it's another vampire, maybe I wouldn't sense them.
My throat is dry. I swallow hard. Things you see in a graveyard after dark...tricks of the imagination. When I reach the spot I thought I saw the person, there's a very faint scent in the air that feels way too familiar. I stop again, twisting around full-circle just to make sure I'm alone. Nada. See, self? All worked up for nothing, now don't you feel like an idiot? I sure do.
Up until a heavy hand closes over my mouth and drags me backward, off the path, into a pitch-black and enclosed space that smells of dust and decay of a place shut up for decades. The wrought iron gate to the tomb creaks shut, locking me and mister grabby-hands inside while I'm alternating between trying to scream and bite him.
"Be quiet. They'll hear you!"
I freeze, breathing hard. Stupidly trying to ask who? but his hand is still clamped tight to keep me from making a sound. I should've trusted my own eyes and nose; it's Noah. There's no mistaking that voice or the smell of his aftershave.
A few seconds tick by. The sound of voices creeps in past the bars. I don't recognize them until Alex and Artie come into view, passing by us and our tomb and scanning the area. If they were to look close enough, there's no way they'd miss us. Slowly, very slowly, Noah eases us back and we sink down to a crouch to keep better hidden.
"You sure she came this way?" Alex asks, sounding bored.
"I saw her. There are only so many places she can hide..."
They're after me. Which means, yet again, Noah rescued me.
Their voices fade into the distance. Only when they're out of view does Noah uncover my mouth. "You should really pay more attention," he says, voice low.
I twist around to look up into his face. He looks exhausted; there are dark circles beneath his eyes, and his hair is more a mess than usual. I want to ask if he's been eating enough and taking care of himself, but I bite my tongue. After how he's been acting, he doesn't deserve sugary-sweetness from me.
"I could have handled it."
"Right. Like you did last time." Noah lets me go, looking away. "What're you doing out here?"
I squint and twist around, scooting back as much as our tight quarters allow. The unoccupied space amounts to only maybe two feet deep and four feet wide, and the cobwebs in the corners are bigger than my face. "I was looking for someone."
He narrows his eyes. "Who?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was any of your business." It's so hard being cold to him, but it's what he deserves. Besides, I don't owe him any answers until he gives me some of his own.
Noah studies my face. "Ruby?"
Well, guess that confirms that he and my sister did know each other. The idea that my boyfriend knew all along my sister was alive and well makes me sick with disgust. I push myself to my feet. How stupid; here I was, pining away after him and now all I want is to put as much distance between us as possible.
"Briar—"
"You're such an asshole," I hiss, turning for the door. He grabs my wrist, wrenching me back around to face him. His face is shoved a few inches from mine. We're practically sharing breath.
"Briar. I need you to listen to me very carefully." He enunciates each word, like I'm a damned toddler. "You can't take both of them. I can't take both of them."
My fingers flex. He's making my hand go numb. "What do you care? You were going to kill me last time I saw you, anyway."
His expression contorts, somewhere between confused, hurt, and uncertain. At least he lets me go. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into. This world isn't one you should be involved in."
"Yeah, well, didn't have much choice, did I?" I take the opportunity to slip back outside, sparing a look around. No sign of bimbo and dumbo. "If I had my way, Sherry and I would be spending our night with triple chocolate fudge ice cream, pizza, and HBO."
Noah follows after me. "Do you regret it, then?"
I don't even stop to look back. "Regret what?"
There's a fraction of a second where he pauses, like he's deciding what he should say. How to say it. "Being turned."
I screech to a halt. Whirling around, I realize he was a lot closer behind me than I thought, but fine; I can get in his face if he wants to be a jerk. "You think you're so cute. Did you have it in your head that I did this on purpose? That I drew a bulls-eye on my throat and told them to have at it?" From the way Noah's gaze flickers guiltily and looks away, I'll take that as a yes. The anger burns so hot in my chest I can hardly see straight.
I slam my hands into his chest and shove him away. Might as well be pushing a brick wall for all the good it does, but he stares after me like a kicked puppy, like I'm the one who broke his heart.
"Go to hell, Noah. I'll take care of myself."
He reaches for me. I step back. Before he can say another word, a howl pierces the air from somewhere across the cemetery. I don't care to stick around and listen to whatever excuses Noah has. Either Daniel's in trouble...or he found Oliver.
20. Thursday – 7:03pm
I tear down the trail the same direction Alex and Artie disappeared, not caring if I run into them along the way. Noah's footsteps are close behind, miraculously keeping up. I spot Alex's long curls before anything else. She whips around at the sound of us approaching, lips drawing back into a snarl. Beyond her, Artie and Daniel are facing off, and I remember what almost happened at Mom and Dad's house.
One wrong move and he's kibble. I don't think Daniel can heal from a broken neck.
In a surprising burst of speed, Noah darts past me and Alex lunges for him. I throw myself into her, arms around her middle, and we hit the ground hard. She tries pitching me off. I hold tight, one-armed, my free hand grasping for something, anything I can use as a weapon. Nails graze my face, raking down my cheek hard enough to draw blood and I twist until I can sink my teeth into her wrist.
Alex screeches bloody murder. My fingers close around something solid, brick-like. A rock, or a piece of concrete headstone. I bring it up and it connects with the side of her skull. Not hard enough to kill her, but she goes limp, eyes rolling back, stunned.
Her blood is bitter and gross in my mouth. I turn to spit it out and wipe at my face. I stagger to my feet, attention swiveling to the others. Daniel lays on the ground, breathing, unmoving. But the being-alive part is what's important.
I stumble over to drop by his side, smoothing my hands over his fur. His eyelids lift and he tips his head to watch me, tail thumping once against the ground. It's hard to tell what blood is his and what belongs to Artie.
Speaking of—I jerk my head up in time to see Artie and Noah facing off. Noah isn't small, but he has nothing on this guy. Artie is the buffed-up grunt you would see walking down the street with a gym bag in one hand and a protein drink in the other.
Artie swings, faster than anyone his size should be. Noah ducks under it, sliding a knife from a sheathe hidden against the small of his back,. Light glints off the blade in the half-second it takes for it to tear across Artie's chest. Artie leaps back, fingers at the cut, and seems to decide it isn't bad enough to concern himself with. He lunges again.
Noah's every movement is perfectly timed and calculated, making up for his smaller size. He lashes out and leaves another cut, this o
ne running the line of Artie's forearm from elbow to wrist. Noah narrowly avoids another hit, drops and rolls behind him, knife biting into calf muscle as he goes. I don't understand what he's doing. Such tiny cuts are going to mend in a matter of minutes.
Except...they aren't healing.
In fact, if I didn't know any better, I would say they're getting worse. The slice across Artie's chest, where the fabric of his shirt is parted and falling away, looks more and more like an angry, gaping wound made by a machete instead of a six-inch blade. Artie seems to be slowing down, his chest heaving with the effort of each breath.
The next swing is clumsy and Noah hardly has to move to miss it. He stands poised, ready to attack again, but Artie's injured leg gives out and he crashes to his knees. Now that he's still, I can see it better: the wounds are getting worse.
"What the hell... What did you do?" Artie pants, grasping at his chest where the wound is opening, eating through his lungs. He looks at his arm where the skin has darkened and is peeling and rotting away from the cut. Within seconds I can see muscle, bone. I'm about to see the contents of my stomach if I don't look away.
Instead I focus on Noah. Everything about his expression and stance is tight and on-edge with the look of someone who knows there is no room for error. No forgiveness for mistakes. He's not a vampire and not nearly as indestructible as one.
But Artie doesn't get up. He slumps forward, gasping for breath, and Noah is watching him so intently he doesn't see the shadow slipping up behind him.
"NOAH!"
The next five seconds tick by in agonizing slow-motion. Noah twists, away from Artie, toward Joel, who lunges for his throat. The flat of Noah's hand slams into Joel's chest. There is a sharp crack, a flash of light, from the junction of hand-and-chest, and then Joel is thrown back. Pitched away a good twenty feet where the side of a looming angel statue catches him and the weight of his body splits it almost clean through.
