by Kelley York
Noah doesn't look at me. "You haven't done anything wrong yet. And if anyone is going to kill you, it should be me."
A cold chill slithers down my spine. Even after everything he did for me today, he still says that so easily? I open my mouth to respond and he gives a nod.
"Your welcoming committee is here."
I turn in time to see Oliver and Cole exiting the hotel and coming for us. Oliver's eyes are narrowed and the hunched up look of his shoulders is probably a bad thing. Great. I straighten and step away from the car, surprised Noah doesn't take the opportunity to peel out of the parking lot.
Oliver shoves his face a few inches from mine. I can tell he would really like to grab and shake me. "What the hell were you thinking? Going after him like that?!"
I lean back, arms crossing. Automatically defensive even though he has every right to be pissed off. Before I can come up with a witty response, the driver's side door opens and slams shut again and Noah circles around the front of the car. "Don't yell at her."
Oliver's attention whips from me to Noah. "You stay out of this. What right do you have to get involved?"
Just like at the cemetery, I can feel the flare of their power wash over me, making me shudder. Scary or not, having them go at each others' throats in the parking lot would not be a great end to everyone's day. I throw myself between them, one hand on Oliver's chest, the other on Noah's. Like they couldn't toss me aside if they really wanted to.
"I have more of a right to be involved than you do," Noah hisses. "She's my—"
"Girlfriend?" Oliver scoffs. "Please. You tried to kill her. Where were you when she needed you? Who found her by the river? Who took care of her after she turned? Sure as hell wasn't you. And it should have been."
I catch a flicker of something—guilt? —flash across Noah's face. Satisfaction and sympathy fight for dominance in my head. On one hand, Oliver is right; Noah should have been the one there for me, not a couple of strangers. On the other hand, it isn't Oliver's place to pick on Noah. That's my job.
I want to say something, but the words won't come out. My entire body has suddenly gone numb, like the freezing ocean tide has swept in and over my head. My skin prickles. Heart-rate kicks up. The boys go silent and still, and I have to follow their gazes to realize where this immense sensation of fear building in my chest is coming from.
Cole.
This is his presence, with him not holding anything back. It makes Oliver and Noah's presences look like tiny flames struggling to keep lit in the wind. I have to grip hold of Oliver's shoulder to keep my balance as my legs morph into pudding.
His stare is leveled on the boys. A warning. But when he speaks, his voice is still the epitome of calm school-teacher. "That's enough, children."
Just like that, the overwhelming fear subsides, out like the tide. If this is the kind of feeling Cole can give off, I don't think I want to know what the elders are like. I gulp down air, finally able to breathe again.
"He started it," Oliver mutters.
I plant my hands against his chest and shove. "No, you did, jackass. Leave him alone." Behind me, Noah snickers and I whip around to shove him, too. "And you have made it perfectly clear I'm not your girlfriend anymore. I'm pretty sure wanting to kill me ranks high up there on the domestic violence chart."
Noah's shoulders tense and a bit of color rushes up to his face. He doesn't like talking about this in front of the others? Too bad. He should have stayed in the car. I swallow hard. "Thank you for your help today. But I'm not going to stand back while you two go at each other like five-year-olds."
The boys shoot each other glares over my head. Cole sighs. "Please don't forget we are on the same side in all of this."
Noah takes a calculated step back, trying to make it look natural, but I can tell he's itching for distance between him and Cole. Hell, I want distance between me and Cole and he's not even looking at me. "Just because we have a similar goal doesn't put us on the same side." He shoves his hands into his pockets, gaze dropping to me. "I'll see you around or something."
As much as I don't like the tension in the air between him and Oliver, I don't want him to go, either. For at least a little while tonight, there was a trace of the Noah I used to know. The one who wanted to keep me safe and cheered me up when I was sad. The Noah who gave me hope. What reason does he have to stick around? If he knew what happened before he picked me up, he would do nothing more than put a bullet through my heart.
Circling back around to the driver's side, Noah casts me one last look. I want to know what he's thinking, what is behind this cold exterior he's trying so hard to project to the world.
And what would he say if I jumped in the car and said I wanted to go with him?
But he buckles in and drives away without a word, and all I can think are the things I wish I could say just to make him stay. Beside me Oliver mutters, "Good riddance."
I elbow him as hard as I can.
26. Saturday – 6:59pm
Cole tells me Ruby did show up at the hotel, but they never actually saw her. She left a note with the lady at the front desk telling them I was in trouble. Why she took off, I don't know, other than that it's obvious she doesn't trust the boys any farther than she can throw them.
But for something this important, for my well-being? How could she not have stuck around to tell them? It doesn’t make sense. Even so, I shrug it off and refuse to acknowledge the sympathetic looks Cole gives me. Try not to think about the gnawing sensation in my gut.
The next twenty-four hours I spend looking for some sign of my parents. I watch the news, flip through the paper, browse the internet in search of stories on the fire, and nada. Guess it wasn't important enough for the media to care.
Then I turn to the hospitals, calling any local one to ask about injuries or deaths that might have come their way. The receptionist on the other end tried not to sound amused as she said, "Honey, do you have any idea how many house fires happen every night in this city?" Obviously more than I would have guessed. Thanks for the help, lady.
What I need is their phone number. If I could only call and hear one of their voices pick up, just to know they were alive and safe... They never need to know it's me on the other end.
I run my thumb over the cracks in the screen of my old phone. This phone was a pricy graduation gift from my dad. I'm surprised he picked out one I wanted. As I unwrapped it, still in my cobalt blue cap and gown from the ceremony, he tried listing off the features that a salesman undoubtedly sold him on.
"It has a touch-screen," he said proudly. "And a camera. Oh, and it'll play all that cool music you like and has one of those map thingies that tells you directions while you drive..."
My dad, the epitome of cool and trendy. This was the last gift he gave me, and thinking about that leaves me pissed off that I was so careless and broke it. Popping open the back to slip out the battery, I squint at the SIM card tucked into its slot, unscathed from the fall.
Light-bulb!
I burst into Oliver's room not a minute later. "I need to go to the nearest cell phone store." Obviously I've interrupted some conversation between him and Cole, but I can't be bothered to care. This is important.
Cole's eyebrows lift. "Cell phone store...?"
I hold up mine to show off the ruined display. "Mine broke at the river, right? But the SIM card is still good. If I have them move it to another phone, I should have all my contacts and I can try to get ahold of my parents."
"We're not dropping everything just to take you to the store for a new phone," Oliver snaps. Ever since I got back this morning, he's been short with me. I don't really blame him but he should talk to me about it. His petty sniping is getting old quick.
"I need to know what happened to my parents, Oliver." I shove the phone into my back pocket. "I'm not going to sit around wondering whether or not they're dead. It'll take thirty minutes, tops." And I'm trying to do the right thing by asking someone to go with me instead of running off. Again
. But—"I'll go by myself if no one wants to come along."
"So you can get yourself attacked again? Right." Oliver rises to standing, casting a glance to Cole, who sighs.
"Enough, Oliver." He looks at me, patient. "As I believe I told you back when you were still turning, it isn't wise to keep using that phone. The police by now either think you have been murdered, kidnapped, or are a suspect in your friend's death. They can and will track you if they realize you've been making calls."
Just like that, my hopes sink. Even if all I need are my contacts, going into a store to replace my busted phone probably isn't a bright idea. I've caused enough problems without getting the cops on our trail.
Cole lets out another breathy sigh and extends a hand. "Let me see it."
"Are you a phone repair-man now?" I mumble, but hand it over without complaint.
He turns it over in his hands, pops out the battery like I did earlier, and slides out the SIM card. I open my mouth to ask him what he's doing, but realize a second later when he takes out his own phone and slides off the back cover.
Oh. Oh. Why didn't I think of that?
He replaces his SIM card with mine, turns the phone on and offers it to me. "Don't make any calls. Write down the information you need, then we need to destroy yours for good so there is no chance it can be traced."
Throat dry, I grab up a pen and paper—standard hotel stationary—from the nearby table and sink down. All the important numbers are right there on Cole's unfamiliar screen. Mom's cell, Dad's cell. I even write down the extended family I haven't spoken to in like two years, just in case. I won't have access to any of this after today and I never know when I might need any of it.
As soon as I'm done, I let Cole swap out the cards again. I try to reach for his phone and he shakes his head. "Pay phone, dear one."
It takes all I have not to growl at him. "What about the phone you got me? It still sort of works."
"No. Pay phone. If they're looking for you, it's possible for them to track inbound calls from your parents'."
"Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a pay phone these days? They're extinct."
He smiles pleasantly. "There is one in front of that liquor store up the street. Oliver can accompany you."
"I can?"
"He can?"
Oliver and I exchange dirty looks. I'm not in the mood for his attitude, but fine, fine. If my parents are alive, I'm really not going to give a shit about how mad he is at me.
I practically run out the door with Oliver trudging along behind, his shoulders hunched, scowling. I'm tempted to grab his hand and tell him to get his ass moving, but I don't feel like being snapped at again.
When we reach the store at the corner of the street, I approach it with a knot of dread working its way into my chest. Half-expecting the doors to slide open and Joel to step out, with another victim on his arm. Watching me. Expecting me. Would he be surprised that I'm still alive? Does he know already?
I've slowed in my steps without realizing it and Oliver nudges me sharply between the shoulder blades. "What's your problem?"
Shuddering, I snap back to the here and now, forcing Joel from my mind, touching the spot on my neck where not even the line of raised flesh remains. Nothing at all to attest to what he did to me. To Oliver, I mumble an absent apology and make my way over to an ancient payphone near the doors.
I try to think if I've ever even used a payphone before. Seen my parents use one, sure. Most memorably when I was little and the car broke down. Ruby and I watched wide-eyed while Mom yelled into the receiver at the tow-truck driver on the other end, using language neither of us had ever heard out of her mouth before.
Now I rummage around in my pockets for enough change to make a call, dialing Mom's cell number first, because she's more likely to answer. Dad never did wrap his head around the idea that having a cell meant picking up when someone called.
It's cold and drizzling, and I huddle into what little shelter the phone stall offers with Oliver not far behind me. One ring, two, three, turns to four and five...
"Hi, you've reached Macy Greyson. Sorry I'm unavailable but please leave your name and number..."
I hang up quickly, taking a deep breath, steadying my nerves. Just because she didn't answer doesn't mean anything, right? Right. Nothing at all. Just means her phone is on silent, or her purse is in the car. Something, anything.
Thankfully the phone returns my change because I didn't get through, so I can pop in the same few quarters and try again, this time to Dad's number. Ringing, ringing.
"I'm not sure how...oh, oh. It's—hello, this is David. Uh, please leave a message."
No. No. Not good enough. I try them both three more times before giving up.
I place the receiver back in its cradle, my forehead coming to rest atop it. The sound of their recorded voices, trapped in time, sucks every bit of energy right out of my body. Inside, I'm hollow. An empty shell that wants nothing more than to scream and cry. But all I can do is stand there, feeling exhausted.
"Why aren't they answering?"
Oliver has been so quiet I almost forgot he was there, and his hand comes to rest against my shoulder, his voice softer than it's been to me all day. "Hey... Come on. Let's head back and we can try again later."
His touch reminds me of Noah. How he reached for me in the car and pulled away at the last second when all I wanted was to curl up in his arms and be allowed to feel sad for awhile. I twist around and bury my face against Oliver's chest, the riptide of emotions careening through every nerve in my body. It isn't fair.
The warmth of his arms around me, no matter how stiff and awkward the gesture, is all I really wanted from anyone. Just...a hug. Something to reassure me it will all be okay, even if nothing feels further from the truth right now.
"What do I do?" I mumble into his shirt, which I'm dampening with my tears. "What do I do if my parents are dead? What if they got Ruby, too?" I feel the rise and fall of his chest as he sighs.
"I don't know, Briar. But we're here to help if we can. As long as you're going to stop being reckless and running off..." He pulls back, hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm's length. "You have every right to be upset, but you also have to look at the bigger picture. There are other people out there dying right now; Cole heard about two more while you were missing."
I sniff, wiping at my eyes with my sleeve. Sobbing in front of a liquor store payphone? God, I must look amazing. Oliver's right: this entire thing is bigger than just me and my losses. Remembering the girl Joel killed...the things I said to him about her having a family and friends. Somewhere, someone is worried about her. Someone is devastated that she's dead. Sherry's family who loved her so much will never get to see her bubbly, smiling face again.
Oliver brings a hand up, gripping my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. "This needs to be more than just revenge for you, Briar."
I think of Oliver, dying in the snow alone. Of what he risked and gave up in hopes of setting things right. The kind of strength he has that I wish I could find in myself.
But maybe I have. As terrified as I was, I still faced off against Joel. Not the smartest choice, but I did it for no reason other than that I wanted to protect that girl. I wanted to see her go home to her family safe and sound.
"It is," I whisper. "I don't want anyone else to go through this." I don't want anyone to hurt the way I am.
He gives me a smile, the first one I've really seen to ever reach his eyes. "Good girl. Now let's get out of the cold."
27. Saturday – 8:11pm
Oliver lets me return to my room when we get back to the hotel. This time I try to be more productive with the silence beyond sitting around, moping. It's taken everything I have to not keep trying my parents from my semi-working cell. I've kept it close, in case Ruby calls. That is, if Joel hasn't gotten to her already. Why else would she not have stopped by or called to find out if I'm okay?
As I'm scrubbing at my hair in the shower, I remind myse
lf that Ruby was able to keep an eye on me without me ever knowing she was here. She got into my room to leave that note, and she seems to know when I come and go. For all I know, she's been calling me off the hook and my busted phone is too tweaked to ring anymore. Maybe she lost my number.
I think about Joel, wondering where he went after torching my parents' place. If it was even him. Could have been Alex or Fred, or even the elusive Maverick himself who none of us have even seen yet. Maybe that's a good thing. If he's anywhere near Cole's level in power, I doubt any of us would stand a chance except Cole himself, and as far as I'm aware, he still doesn't have permission to get directly involved.
Stupid vampire rules. Stupid witch rules.
The room to my door opens and closes just as I'm turning off the shower. Daniel has a copy of my card-key, comes and goes as he pleases, and I'm feeling well enough that I'm glad for his company.
"No peeking," I announce, towel snug around myself as I step out of the bathroom and to the closet for clothes.
Any scream I might have managed is stifled by the hand clamping over my mouth.
Whoever is in my room, it sure as hell isn't Daniel.
I try sinking my teeth into the hand holding me, thrashing until another arm winds around me to pin mine to my sides. How could I let my guard down? How could I be so stupid?! I let the comfort of having the boys nearby delude me into thinking I was untouchable in this place, but they have no real way of sensing another vampire here if they aren't constantly trying to sense for one.
He lifts me off the ground, breathing ragged against my ear. My legs kick freely as I'm hauled across the room. When we near the bed, I get my feet against the edge of the mattress, bracing myself, and push as hard as I can. Enough force it gets him to stagger back, slamming into the wall and making the paintings rattle. More importantly, it gets him to loosen his hold so I can squirm free.
Noah's gun is on the nightstand nearby. I snatch it and launch myself over the bed for distance between us, twisting, aiming.
Fred sags back against the wall, holding up his hands helplessly and looking like he wants to sink into the floor and disappear. "Don't—don't shoot! I just didn't want you to freak out and scream!"
