“Ty?” The soft, familiar voice pushed into my head and stopped my hand in midair. “Can you hear me?”
My fingers closed, my nails digging into my palms. My own blood drip-dropped onto the floor and my body shook with unfulfilled need.
“Please, Ty. Answer me.”
But I couldn’t. I didn’t want her here, in my head, seeing the temptation, feeling the pain.
I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t bring myself to close my mind. I didn’t have the strength.
Even more, I needed hers and so I held tight to each word that echoed through my head.
“I’m worried about you. I need to know if you’re okay. Not that I like you or anything,” she went on, her voice soft, hesitant even. “Okay, so maybe I like you a little. And I could possibly like you more than a little if you would just help me out here and give me some sort of clue so that I can help Ash find you. He’s looking for you. We both are, but obviously he’s better at it than I am because he does it professionally. On the other hand, if he were looking for a date, he would obviously be clueless and I would have to help him…”
She kept going the way she always did and I let her. I welcomed it because it gave me something to focus on, to drown out the need and resist the urge that churned away inside of me.
“It’s okay,” I told the boy and for the first time, I actually believed it.
It was okay.
For a little while, anyway.
Ty was okay.
I knew it as I lay there in the darkness. He was right there with me. Calm. Controlled. For now. But it wouldn’t last long. The Logan guy would come back and then Ty would be in deep shit and the boy…
In my mind, I saw him crouched there, his green shirt glowing like a neon sign in the darkness. Tears ran down his cheeks, washing away the mustard stain near his mouth—
Holy shit.
I bolted upright as reality rained down on me and the pieces fell together one after the other.
Mustard.
Diesel.
The blare of music.
The colored lights.
The constant dings and the rattle of wood.
A fire lit under me and I scrambled from bed. Suddenly frantic, I tugged on a pair of jeans and pulled on the first shirt that touched my hands. I stuffed my feet into generic flip-flops (was I stressed or what?) and reached for my cellphone to call Ash.
He didn’t pick up.
I left a frantic message informing him where to meet me, and then sent a text message just in case. Stuffing the phone into my pocket, I grabbed my purse and headed for the nearest window. I shoved the glass up, closed my eyes, and focused my thoughts. In a matter of seconds, the sound of bat wings echoed through my apartment and startled Killer out of a sound sleep as I morphed into my fuzzy pink friend.
And then I hauled ass to Coney Island, all the while trying to shake the possibility that I might not make it in time.
While I still had at least three hours until daylight and no doubt that Ty was being held somewhere on the island, I didn’t know exactly where. Which meant every second counted.
Otherwise…
I forced the thought aside and concentrated on hanging on to Ty’s thoughts as they rolled through my head and the images played in front of his clouded vision.
I could do this, I told myself, flapping away toward my destination, my mind’s eye fixed on the dungeonlike room and the boy. I could reach Ty and Junior, and save them both.
And if I couldn’t?
I had a feeling we would all be fucked.
Twenty-nine
I followed the West Side Highway toward the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel. The city was a blaze of lights below me as I zoomed closer to Brooklyn, and on toward the beach and the boardwalk.
It was just after midnight on a Friday night and the attractions were starting to close up. In my mind I replayed the sounds I’d heard—the metal groaning and the wood rocking and shaking—and zeroed in on Astroland rather than the Wonder Wheel, which blinked in the distance.
The amusement park lights twinkled and flashed. The Top Spin flipped and whirled, giving a last yippee! to the stragglers intent on sticking around until the very end. The Astrotower stood like a sentry keeping watch over the area. My gaze fixed on the Cyclone. The massive roller coaster loomed above the other rides, a blaze of neon against the pitch-black sky.
I landed behind one of the concession areas, smack-dab in a puddle of something pink and sticky. I morphed and the flapping quickly faded into the frantic sound of my own heart. I glanced down at my rhinestone flip-flops, now ooey and gooey, and resisted the urge to scrape them off. I didn’t have time to worry about my shoes.
I know, right? Was I totally freaked or what?
But we’re talking life and death and Ty.
I rounded the building and started walking. My ears prickled, drinking in the sounds, fitting them together with what I’d heard in my head earlier that night.
What I could still hear if I closed my eyes and concentrated.
His wall had completely crumbled now, and so I was there with him, flat on my back on the hard concrete. Every once in a while, my eyelids fluttered open and I saw the swirl of lights on the cement wall. The young boy’s whimpers echoed in my ears, making my gut twist, reminding me that salvation was close.
Too close.
Hold on. I sent Ty the silent message, begged him to be strong, and picked up my steps.
I moved through the amusement park, moving closer to the roller coaster and sifting through the barrage of stimuli. I listened, picking up every sound, turning it over, letting it guide me.
The tinkle of the music.
The frantic whoooshhhhh of the coaster.
Ka-chunk, ka-chunk.
Cha-pow.
Ba-da-bing.
I felt like I was starring in a bad kung fu movie as I turned this way, took a few more steps that way. I half-expected a masked ninja to jump out at me (or a ravenous vampire), and so I kept a careful watch on my back. Unfortunately, that put my feet at risk, and I stepped down on a fully loaded ketchup packet. I was thanking the Big Vamp Upstairs that I didn’t spray the leg of my Chloe jeans when I heard the familiar sound.
Pop, pop, pop!
I forgot all about the ketchup. My head snapped up. My ears prickled. My gaze swiveled to the food stand just to my left. They offered everything from popcorn to sodas, hot dogs to pretzels. A large tub of mustard sat on the counter next to a bucket full of ketchup packets.
Dread rolled through me, followed by a rush of anxiety. My heart pounded and my blood rushed as I scanned the surrounding buildings. Another ride. Another concession stand. My vision moved deeper, farther, pushing past people and obstacles, until I spotted the broken-down building off to the side, a small warehouse that housed tools and parts for the rides.
I stepped forward, my feet carrying me so fast that I actually felt my flip-flops leave the ground. I whipped past a group of teenagers. A collective gasp and a Holy shit, followed by a What the hell? trailed after me. I should have stopped, vamped them, and covered my tracks, but I didn’t (Sorry, Ma!). I was past the point of caring. I had to move. Now.
I neared the building. My gaze sliced through the darkness, drinking in the row of windows that sat an inch above the ground. Each square of tinted glass measured roughly six inches by six inches. Big enough to provide light for the basement below, but small enough to prevent burglary: No one was crawling in or out.
I headed around the side of the building until I spotted the only window that sat open, the glass pushed out several inches. To my left the top portion of a carousel was visible. The lights played across the building and pushed around the pane of glass, and crept through the opening to sprinkle the cement walls inside.
My heart seemed to stall as I leaned down and peered into the opening. No snaxy bounty hunters or freaked-out kids. Just a bunch of dusty tarps, a few old carousel animals, and a giant rusted teacup.
Disappointment rush
ed through me, followed by a surge of panic. I started searching again. I followed the row of windows around the back, to the opposite side, peeking inside each one. My anxiety mounted and my sticky flip-flops kept sticking to the concrete.
“I could use some help here,” I finally blurted when I stuck my fingers around a window to open it up, and the glass slammed shut. Two of my nails cracked and snapped. I stared down at the ruined manicure and my eyes welled. Not because I’d lost a nail (no, really), but because Ty needed me and I couldn’t find him. I was close, but I wasn’t there. “Please.” My throat closed around the word and I swallowed, closing my eyes for a long moment to try to get a grip.
Vamps didn’t cry, I told myself. They raised hell and kicked ass and they stayed strong. I gathered my courage and sniffled. “I am NOT blubbering like a baby.”
“Yes, you are.” The deep, familiar voice echoed through my head and my heart skipped its next beat.
“Where are you?” I murmured, and then I heard him.
“Here.” The word was little more than a croak, and it didn’t come from the other side of the damnable window that now owed me a manicure.
I turned and eyeballed the next building. It was a brick structure that fit halfway beneath the roller coaster. It probably housed the guts of the ride. Maybe an engine room. There were no windows, just a small section of bricks near the ground that had been pulled out of the mortar so that someone could peer in from time to time and keep an eye on what was going on below.
Because whoever had taken Ty was close by. Watching.
I glanced around, tuning my senses, searching, but I saw nothing. Felt nothing. Just the desperation that came from beyond the hole in the brick. The ride had shut down and so there was no rattling wood, no groan as the cars raced around the track.
I walked over to the building, knelt, and peered inside.
My heart lunged into my throat as I saw Ty’s shivering body draped over a mortared stack of bricks. In the far corner, the young boy crouched, his face tear streaked, his eyes full of fear and worry and desperation.
I had half a notion to barge through the hole (my manicure was ruined anyway), but a crazy vampire slinging bricks was sure to attract more than just a holy shit or what the hell? On top of that, I was pressed for time. I needed to get inside and save the two people inside before their abductor came back.
Rounding the large structure, I found a door at the very back. I grabbed the padlock and twisted. The lock crumbled in my hands and the door creaked open.
The ride had shut down, but the motor still hummed. The smell of diesel surrounded me. I sent yet another thanks to Sistah Vamp in that Great Big Coffin in the Sky for the fact that I didn’t need to breathe, otherwise I would have been flat on my back before I found Ty instead of after, as I’d anticipated (see life-affirming sex).
It took several minutes and a lot of stumbling before I found my way around the monstrous machines to the rickety staircase that led below. The stairs creaked and moaned, leading to a small hallway lined with doors. I filtered out all of the engine noise coming from upstairs and focused on the small ticks and creaks that surrounded me.
I turned to one specific door on the left. Another padlock barred my way, but I crushed it, splintering the pieces and letting them fall to the floor.
It had been over a month since I’d actually seen Ty, and while I could picture him clearly in my mind, seeing him in the flesh was a completely different experience. Every nerve jumped to attention. My heart paused in my chest. Awareness bubbled up my spine, followed by a rush of dread.
My gaze pored over his face, battered and bruised because he’d yet to feed and, therefore, heal. His lips were swollen. More bruises dotted his bare torso. Angry red slash marks crisscrossed his chest and I felt my own back throb. He wore a pair of jeans and nothing else, the material filthy and stained. My heart gave a painful thud and suddenly I couldn’t move. Pain paralyzed me, a feeling that had nothing to do with my mental connection with him and what he was feeling, and everything to do with my own feelings for him.
“It’s okay.” His voice echoed through my head and zapped me back to reality.
I turned toward the small form that cowered in the corner. The boy looked to be about eight or nine. Average size with blond hair and blue eyes.
“Hey,” I said when I reached him.
His eyes popped open and he stared up at me as if I were about to whack him with a ruler and haul him to the principal’s office.
“It’s okay,” I told him. I reached for his shoulder and started to pull him forward, and he bit me. “Ouch!” I snatched my hand back and eyed the faint indentations in my skin. I contemplated biting him back for an eighth of a second, but I’d always liked a more mature flavor of blood. Something aged and mellowed, not bubbling and prepubescent.
I forced my most understanding smile. After all, he was freaked. Biting was totally understandable.
I reached out again and he kicked me. And then he pulled my hair. And then he grabbed my shirt—
“Hold it!” I gripped his shoulders and exerted enough pressure to make his eyes go wide. “I’m trying to help you, all right?” My gaze pushed into his. Calming. Entrancing.
He went limp then, and I was able to lift him and head for the door. A few seconds later, I headed around the building and started toward the small security stand that sat near the park entrance. Several yards away, I stood him on his wobbly legs and stared into his glazed eyes.
“Listen up, kid. I want you to turn and walk straight over to that security guard. Tell him your name and your mother’s name and your phone number.” He knew that, right? I tried to remember myself at eight, but that had been during the pre-cellphone era. In fact, we’re talking pre-Morse code.
“You know your phone number?” The glazed look faded for a split-second and realization struck. He nodded.
“Good.” I smiled and stared deep into his eyes.
You’re going to give the guard your digits and then you’re going to forget all about me. I sent the silent message. And the bad vampire who abducted you. And the really hot, hunky vampire who suffered so that he wouldn’t hurt you (awww). It was all just a bad dream thanks to too many hot dogs. You’re also going to listen to your mom, clean your room, and do your best in school.
Hey, what’s the point of being a Super Vamp if you can’t do something good for mankind every once in a while?
A whole list of answers rifled through my head, starting with (1) the point of being a Super Vamp is to make little Super Vamps, and (2) to bend humans to your will and feed, and the ever popular, (3) to make oodles of money so that you can support the little Super Vamps and bend humans to your will and, of course, feed.
I tuned out my vamp conscience—which sounded way too much like my mother—and turned.
One down. One to go.
I headed back inside the engine room, down below and into the basement. Crossing the concrete floor, I leaned down and touched Ty’s shoulder.
“Hey. Can you hear me?”
“Yes.” His lips were thick around the word.
He forced his eyelids open a fraction and I saw the deep blue of his gaze. Pain clouded the vivid color, and I felt a rush of anger. I was so going to kick someone’s ass after I helped Ty to safety.
“I’m going to carry you out of here,” I said and started to slide my hands beneath him.
My fingertips grazed his bruised and swollen flesh and he bucked. He caught his lips against a scream of agony and his fangs sank deep into his lower lip, drawing blood.
“I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” he finally managed. “…don’t think…I…can…move.” Each word was a struggle and my heart twisted.
He’d been starved for so long that he couldn’t heal. Rather, he was one big open wound. I could move him, but it would hurt. So much that I knew I had to figure out something else.
I remembered that night at my apartment when Ty had shown up and let me drink from him
that very first time. I’d gotten staked in the shoulder, and we’re talking mega pain. A few sips from him and I’d felt loads better.
At the same time, that’s what had linked us in the first place. I’d drank from him and bam, instant mind connection. If I let him drink from me, it would make the link that much stronger. The sharing of blood was serious business among vampires. We’re talking an unbreakable bond. A serious commitment. A—
Well, you get the idea.
I was already halfway there and not liking it one bit because I knew on a realistic level that Ty and I were doomed. He wasn’t my type and I wasn’t his. It was a tragedy about to happen. The typical born vampire would cut her losses and head for the nearest twenty-four-hour Neiman’s.
At the same time, there were no twenty-four-hour Neiman’s and I was hardly the typical born vamp.
I’d drank from him. And slept with him. And I actually liked him. I couldn’t NOT help. Even if it made walking away that much more difficult.
And I would walk. I had to. I had little vamps to squeeze out, after all.
But not right now.
I glanced at the inside of my own arm. Blue veins bulged just beneath the smooth, tanned surface, pulsing with life. I opened my mouth and bared my fangs. Sinking them into my own wrist, I opened a vein and held it to his lips.
The blood drip-dropped into his mouth and his Adam’s apple bobbed. Once. Twice. His lips moved and his tongue lapped at my wrist. A few more seconds and his arm stirred. His hand came up, catching my wrist and holding it to his mouth as he took control.
His mouth opened. His fangs grazed my flesh and sank deep. I gasped and leaned against him. My eyes closed.
He drank for several moments, sucking so hard that I eventually felt the pull on my nipples and between my legs.
No, I told myself. This was a dire situation. Perilous. We weren’t in a penthouse suite somewhere in Manhattan: No champagne chilling on the night-stand, no rose petals sprinkled on the bed, no Barry White drifting from the speakers. But I couldn’t help myself. This was Ty and I’d missed him and—oh. Ohhhhhhhh…
Your Coffin or Mine? Page 19
