by Alex Owens
Instead, I relished the idea of ending his horrible life.
“Can I help you?” I said calmly.
Limp, dirty hair hung over his ruddy complexion, but not enough to mask the glint in his eyes or the sneer of his thin lips. He didn’t respond. Instead he flicked open a blade in his left hand and stepped closer.
I held my ground even though his scent made me want to run far, far away.
He eyed me from head to toe, his gaze landing on my spiked heels. He imagined raping me with my own shoe, before moving on to his knife.
Fuck that shit.
In one fluid motion, I grabbed two handfuls of greasy hair and twisted. The sound of his neck breaking echoed around the cavernous garage. I looked at his limp body, sagging between my hands and I started thinking about recycling.
Waste not, want not and all that.
I chowed down quickly, before his heart stopped altogether.
Then I hoisted his body back up, carried him to the open sides of the parking level and looked down the five stories to the ground. Perfect. The ground was an overgrowth of untended landscaping. Aiming for the nest of bushes below, I chucked him over the concrete half wall and watching his body collide with the earth with a thud. It should have disgusted me, but it did not.
I turned to find Morgan standing behind our car, staring at me with wide-eyes and a trembling bottom lip. At her side in seconds, I ushered her back to the car and helped her in. I stuffed the shopping bags in the back seat.
“Buckle up, we need to get out of here,” I said.
Wasting no time, we peeled out of the garage seconds later. It took much longer for Morgan’s heart rate to steady and just as long for my adrenaline spike to wear off.
For the next fifty minutes we drove in silence.
I couldn’t help noticing that Morgan was sitting just about as far away from me as she possibly could, and still be inside the car. She hadn’t made eye contact with me since we’d fled the scene of my crime. While wrapped up in that sick fuck’s thoughts, I hadn’t paused to consider the situation from her point of view. To her, it probably looked like I’d murdered a man for an after-shopping snack.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Up until that moment, Morgan could only take my word that I was a monster. She’d never seen the reality of my life up close and personal. The difference was a bit like swooning over the big screen version of Lestat and running into him in a dark alley during Mardi Gras. Big difference.
“You okay?” I finally spoke as we neared home.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw her nod, but she kept quiet.
“I know how that must have looked,” I started, “I wasn’t thinking... I should have warned you better, but there wasn’t time.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation. I guess I never really thought about what it is that you do.” Morgan kept her head turned, staring out the window and avoiding me.
I shook my head even though she couldn’t see it. “No, you don’t understand. That man was evil. He was going to hurt you. Well, he wanted to anyway. And I couldn’t let that happen.”
“What are you talking about? He was minding his own business before you ate him!” The anger in Morgan’s voice took me by surprise.
“Look, you know me.” I placed my hand on her leg and hoped the bond we shared would be enough to help me get through to her. She stiffened under my touch, but I didn’t pull away. “So you know I have other talents. I can feel the emotions of other people...”
Morgan gasped and I felt her panic rising. I must have forgotten to build my shields back up again. You’d think I’d remember to do that more often than I did.
I pressed onward, “Not all the time and I’m very respectful of everyone’s privacy. Really, I don’t want to know what everyone is feeling. But sometimes, it comes in handy. Like tonight when I could hear that we were being followed... and sometimes the emotions are so strong that I get a mental picture of what they’re thinking.”
Morgan relaxed somewhat and I gave her leg a little squeeze.
“What that man wanted to do to you, to us, was unspeakable. I’m talking torture and pain and...” I shuddered recalling what I’d seen in his blackened mind. “It was him or us. Well, not really because I’d never let anyone hurt you. But even if I’d gotten us out of there before he made his move, I couldn’t just let him go. He was a predator. If not us, then somebody’s daughter or mother or sister.”
Morgan sighed, “I get it. I do, it’s just... It’s been a long day. Can we just talk about it later?”
I slowed the car and turned onto our lane. “Sure, okay.”
When we reached the house, the first thing I noticed was that we had a visitor. Our hunky neighbor, Linc was sitting on the tailgate of his truck drinking a beer and watching the sunset.
I parked the car and Morgan climbed out of the car and went inside. She wasn’t okay, not by a long shot. I mean, come on—Morgan ignoring the man meat sitting five yards away? Not normal.
I watched her enter the house and then got out of my car. Time to deal with Linc.
“Well, howdy neighbor. What can I do you for?” My attempt at humor, not so good I’ll admit.
Linc smirked and tipped up his beer bottle. “Dog’s fine.”
“Huh?” I stopped a few feet away from him. I was close enough to know that he smelled delish—like man sweat and hops.
“The dog you hit? I thought you might be worried.” He stood and turned to get back in his truck. “Guess not.”
I caught him by the arm.
“Sorry, no. I mean yes. It’s been a rough afternoon.” I gave an awkward smile. “I’m glad he’s okay. Do you want to take him to the Vet just to be sure he’s fine? I’ll pay of course.”
“Not necessary. I told you Rooster’s a tough bird. It would take a lot more than one dinky car to slow him down.” He smirked, but not in a creepy way. It was more like a you-know I’m-adorable type of grin, dimples included at no extra charge.
“Hey, my car’s not dinky.” I patted the hood of my current ride and he laughed.
“Sure, you keep telling yourself that. Whatever gets you behind the wheel each day.”
I threw up my hands. “Okay, you’re right. It’s a piece of tin-foil on wheels. I know. I’m working on it.”
He sat back down on the tailgate of his truck and patted the space next to him.
“Really? Let me guess, you’re moving up to a minivan?”
“Ouch, that was low.” I fake-punched him in the arm. “I know you don’t know me very well, but what the hell about me screams minivan?”
“You’re a mom, that’s what moms do, right?” He pulled another swig of beer through his lips. I wasn’t staring at them, I promise.
“Sure. And wear mom-jeans and pony tails and bake cookies.”
“Point taken. But I do like cookies,” Linc drawled out the last bit.
I was pretty sure we weren’t talking about baked goods anymore. I needed to steer the conversation back towards safer ground.
“Hey, after we met the other night, I realized we’d met before. Halloween night, you tried to knock me unconscious.” I instinctively rubbed my forehead.
It took him a minute, but I knew the instant he recalled the incident. His eyes lit up like two candles.
“Xena.” He said, putting out his hand.
“In the flesh,” I took his hand in mine and my insides got all gooey. He was warm, so warm. I wanted to crawl up into his lap and cuddle with him.
“And what sweet flesh it is.” He rubbed the pad of his thumb over my hand in little circles.
I broke our connection and scooted off the tailgate. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I backed away slowly. “Well, I’m glad your dog’s okay. I’ve got to... you know, unload the car. And some other stuff.”
“Alright, I’ll let you get to it.” He stood and walked to the cab of his truck, turning back to me right before climbing in. “See you tomorrow night?”
“What’s tomorrow nig
ht?” I asked, perplexed.
“Our date.” He climbed into his truck, started it, and drove away, leaving me standing there like an idiot with my mouth hanging wide open.
Date? When did I agree to go out with him?
I went inside a minute later, arms laden with shopping bags. Morgan looked up from her perch in the recliner, but didn’t offer to help me with the load. I dropped the bags on the kitchen table and went to take a long hot soak in my bathroom oasis.
I’d damn sure earned it.
Chapter Ten
“Your date’s here!” Morgan called from somewhere in the front of the house.
I checked myself one last time in the mirror, slipped on a pair of plum-colored ballet flats and threw an oversize oatmeal cardigan over my dainty peasant blouse. I grabbed a small purse from the closet and threw in the necessities: wallet, lipstick, and breath mints.
The last was probably more out of habit than necessity. I didn’t eat and pesky little things like bacteria and tooth decay were a thing of the past, so I didn’t have to worry about bad breath these days. Chalk another one up for Vampirism—pearly whites that stayed that way.
“Thanks!” I shouted down the hall to Morgan.
I ran into her in the kitchen. She didn’t even look up as I breeze in the room.
She seemed a little irritated about my date, but I couldn’t tell which one of us she was jealous over? Linc, because he was going out with me, or me, because I had a date with Linc? I didn’t have time to solve that riddle, so I gave Morgan a quick hug and let her know I’d be back within the realm of first-date appropriate.
I’m pretty sure I heard her mutter “whatever” as the door shut behind me, but I couldn’t be positive. There was a lot of background noise, after all. Linc had arrived all right; it’d be hard not to see or hear him in that rig.
He jumped out of the cab and met me around the front of the truck.
“How in the hell am I supposed to get inside of that thing? The tires alone are taller than I am!”
He rubbed the hood of the jacked-up truck like he was soothing a child. “Don’t talk about Mabel that way, you’ll hurt her feelings.” He gave me a devilish grin.
“Forget her feelings, I’m probably going to slip a disc if I try to climb up there.”
Of course I wouldn’t, but I’d forgotten for a minute that I wasn’t a normal person anymore. Seeing a big green truck in the driveway—one that could literally drive over my car without damaging it—scrambled my good sense for a beat or two. In reality, I could probably scale that baby in no time, but I couldn’t be showing off my freakish skills just yet.
It was only our first date, after all. That kind of thing seemed like a third-date thing, minimum.
“Nah, you’ll be fine. I’ll give you a boost.” He flexed his fingertips at me and I got the distinct impression that he couldn’t wait to get his hands on my buns.
Of course he would. Good thing I hadn’t worn a skirt.
Linc opened the passenger door and pointed to a special handle mounted low on the inside of the door. Then he pointed at another mounted on the floor beside the truck’s bench seat. “Grab those and pull yourself up. You can step on the pipes if that helps—they shouldn’t be too hot just yet.”
I did as he said, stretching my body beyond what was polite for first-date etiquette. I only hoped Morgan wasn’t watching this spectacle. After a few awkward seconds and one deliberately ass-grab, I was sitting in the cab of the beast. Everything looked so small from my perch.
Was this truck even street legal, I thought? God, I was such a Mom.
Linc jogged around the truck, swung open the door and hoisted himself up and into the driver’s seat. He made it look so easy.
“So, what do you have planned?” I asked, dropping my purse in the floor.
“You better zip that shut; she rides a little bumpy.” He grinned and waited patiently for me to secure all of my crap safely inside the bag.
“You like surf-n-turf?” He put the truck into gear.
“Sure, who doesn’t,” I replied.
“Good, first we’ll do the surf.” He laughed then, deep and rich.
I hoped that wasn’t his misguided way of saying we were going swimming. Besides the fact that getting half-naked and bobbing in the water beside a stranger was more of a second date kind of thing, I hadn’t spent forty-five minutes on my hair and makeup only to have it washed away in ten seconds flat. I was trying to be a normal gal, dammit.
It wasn’t too long before I figured out what he had in mind, and thankfully it wasn’t swimming.
We had only driven a few miles down the dark two-lane road when Linc hit the breaks and pulled into a dirt driveway. The entrance was blocked off by a rusty chain hanging suspended between two rotten posts. After unlocking and dropping the chain, we ambled back to a large clearing hidden within the woods.
I prayed that his idea of a first date wasn’t making out in the woods. I may be a woman of looser morals, but I never said that I was easy. Hedonistic maybe, but definitely not a push over. Oddly enough, it never crossed my mind that he might be a serial killer looking for a great place to dump a body.
Linc stopped the truck and flicked on the high beams.
“Well, what do you think? You game?” His eyes sparkled in the shaft of moonlight cutting through the dirty back window.
He motioned to the pit below. It appeared to be a series of runs and hills, serpentines and dives. I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. I furrowed my brow. “What is this place?”
He laughed, “Locals called it The Sand Pit. It’s been closed off for years now, but I found it a few months back while running and couldn’t help myself. I cleaned it up and bought this truck.”
Run? Most people I knew kept to the side roads; he must be a serious off-roader to end up all the way back there. Even with that info, I still didn’t have a clue why he brought me there.
“I don’t get it... you said something about surfing? I don’t see a beach anywhere.” I scanned the surrounding area, even the bits only my enhanced eye sight could pick up. Nothing.
“That’s because we’re going to sand surf.” He leaned in close and I stiffened just a bit, thinking he was going to kiss me. Instead, he looped a finger around the seat belt and drew it over my lap. He secured the belt and tugged it snug. “You’ll want to grab the oh-shit bar too.”
He pointed to yet another special handle, mounted in the ceiling over my right arm.
I didn’t even get a chance to ask him why. I found out about three-point-five seconds later as he barreled down a steep grade with his foot solidly on the gas. Before all four tires we’re level on the ground, we started to climb another dirt hill.
Up and down. Fast and faster. Little bounces and boob-shakers. After a particularly hard bottom-out, I bounced so hard in the seat that my head actually whacked the roof of the truck.
“Oh, shit.” Linc stomped on the brakes.
“Oh...my...” I covered my face with my hands, trying to catch my breath.
He started muttering to himself (multiple “shits” and “fucks”) so I took pity on him and pulled my hands from my face. Tears were streaming down my cheeks—but the kind that came from laughter so deep that you run out of air long before the fit subsides.
“Fthuck...” I lisped. Damn, that had never happened before. Why the hell were my fangs down? I pressed my lips shut and held up one finger—the universal signal for “give me sec.”
“Woo hoo, you really had me going there for a second. Are you sure you’re okay?” He rubbed the top of my head and then looked at his fingertips. “No blood, so that’s something.”
He had no idea how true that was. It was a good day when I could say that.
I got a handle on my giggle fit. “I’m good, promise. I’ve taken worse licks than that.”
His face clouded over and I wanted to take back my words. He was sizing me up as some sort of battered woman. I didn’t want the man thinking I’d made a l
ot of terrible choices in my life. I had plenty of skeletons in my closet, but at least they weren’t the kind he was thinking of.
“Have you ever tried to teach an eight year old how to paddle a canoe around the creek? Quinn hit me with that damn paddle more times than I cared to count. Never even got it wet,” I volunteered, hoping to re-color his idea of me.
“All-righty then, if you insist.” Linc fired up the truck and we hit the pits again.
We spent the next hour giving ourselves a serious case of roller-coaster brain. But it was so worth it. I hadn’t had that kind of fun in decades. Pure silliness, it was.
When we’d finally had our fill of shaking the nuts and bolts out of the truck, Linc suggested skipping dinner (what was supposed to the the “turf” part of the night—breaking into the local country club for an illegal picnic on the seventh hole). Instead we settled for beer and some potato skins at his favorite watering hole. I wasn’t too keen on the skins, but a drink sounded like a good way to settle the butterflies in my gut.
We’d only been in the bar—a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of place that I’d never noticed—for under ten minutes when my old life ran into my new one.
“Claire! Hey!” someone patted me on the shoulder. I looked up and groaned inwardly.
My former boss, Ernie, stood at the end of our booth.
I introduced the two of them and they shook hands, all the while eyeing each other up. I hoped that things wouldn’t get weird, Ernie always did have a tendency to stick his own foot squarely in his mouth—most of the time without even realizing he’d done it.
“It’s good to see you out an about! I’ve been meaning to give you a call to pick your brain on the old Smithson account.” He smiled and shuffled a little on his feet.
“Sure, anytime. I’m around most afternoons. You’ve got my number, right?” I offered.
“Sure do,” Ernie grinned and stuck his meaty hand in his pocket, glancing around to survey the scene.
