We stop before a door, and inside, I can hear Josefina giggling. I need to have a talk with that girl about who to implicitly trust—and here’s a preview: it’s not cold, pale, undead people with extra pointy teeth.
“If you are worried about your safety,” Cloud says, speaking directly to me as if Mike isn’t standing stolidly behind me, arms crossed. He feels the same about Vampires as I do, it seems. “Don’t be. You and your friends are as safe here as you can be. My people are not animals.”
I study him, recalling how I described his visit to me in the hospital, and how David reacted. Clearly, there’s more to Cloud than his nice, polite, slightly eerie demeanor, and I only got a hint of it before Mike’s untimely and useless rescue. “Thank you,” I say finally. “And if the fourth Horseman rises here because of me, let me apologize ahead of time.”
Cloud frowns, saying, “Creatures of Hell do no go into the underground. Rest easy, before you leave, for things are going to get much worse—not only for the Humans, but for the other races as well.” He takes a step away from us, adding, “Think about it, for this isn’t just about you anymore.”
I blink as he disappears. Just about me? When the heck was it ever just about me? It never was, as far as I’m concerned.
I barge through the door, not quite sure what I’d find, and see a room with a couch, two bunkbeds, and a television currently playing some random Disney movie. Deb sits with her sketchbooks at a small table near the TV; David meditates on the couch while my mom sits with Josefina, playing Barbies with her.
She never played Barbies with me.
As we enter, everyone looks at us. None are surprised, or even happy, to see us. It’s a wholly underwhelming experience, and I can’t say I’m not disappointed in their response. What feels like a good, long minute passes.
“Good to see you all, too,” I break the silence, miffed.
David is the one who speaks first, addressing Mike and not me: “Mike, how’d you get here?”
“I followed the van,” Mike says, moving to sit on the bottom bunk. He tosses keys to David. “Your car’s nearly out of gas, by the way.”
Shoving the keys into his pocket, David mutters something that definitely isn’t a thanks.
“For being a hidden underground bunker, they don’t do a good job of protecting it,” Mike adds, stroking his own ego for his actions. “It was easy getting in.”
Deb interrupts, “I told them you might be coming.”
I take in Mike’s incredulous expression for a moment before saying, “But they nearly took his head off.”
Super-Agent Wolverine stares at me. “What? When?”
“They were ready to,” Deb says with a shrug of her thin shoulders. “I’m sure he came in with his weapon out.” Common sense, or psychic intuition? I’m still unsure how her freaky sense of premonition works.
“They’re really nice,” Josefina chimes in, running to me, enveloping my waist in a hug.
I bend to her level, meeting her wide, trusting eyes. Eyes that are just like Evalina’s. Suddenly, I’m so very sad; I’m not the only one who lost a parent. I blink, feeling tears form, and pull the girl in for a bear hug.
But I can’t be sad. I can’t let it show. With the end of the world happening, I can’t linger on what happened; I can’t wallow. Dad would want me to focus on surviving, on helping others to survive, too, regardless of when the big bad comes to claim me.
Moving her at arm’s length, I force a smile through watery eyes, trying to blink back the tears. “Josefina, you know not to talk to strangers, right?” Behind the girl, I see Mom get up and head to the TV, pretending to be completely engrossed in the movie. A stab of anger courses through me before I can suffocate it down, shove it away inside me.
The girl in my arms nods dramatically. “Yes. But I got a new Barbie!”
I wrap a stray curl from her head lightly around my finger as I say, “Just because someone gives you a Barbie doesn’t mean they’re nice—”
Josefina stares at me like I just said the strangest thing in the world.
I refrain from shaking some sense into the girl; instead saying, “Promise me that you’ll stay by us. No running off, even if they give you ten Barbies.”
“Ten?” Her eyes widen, giant saucers filled with Barbie possibilities.
Despite myself, I chuckle. I lead her back to her spot, where two dolls lay, clothes and hairbrushes strewn across the carpet. Josefina returns to playing, and I head over to my mom, or Eve, as the Vampires called her.
Eve. First name basis with Vampires. Ooh, goody.
I stare at her for the longest time. All the while, my mom ignores me. I wish I had that skill, not to mention the skill to act normal when the world is literally ending. “Any news stations down here?” I ask, still watching my mom.
It’s David who says, “No. That was the first thing I checked.”
My shoulders slump. I want to know what’s going on above us. I look at Mike. “Your cell?”
“Dead,” he says, dejected.
I reach into my back pocket, clicking the side button. My home screen lights up, a picture of Xena, and I see that not only is my phone at fifteen percent, but there’s also no signal in this concrete bunker chock full of Vamps. I stare at the picture, and something dawns on me.
“Where’s Xena?” I ask, voice frantic.
“If I had to guess, at the shop,” David answers with a shrug. “Don’t worry, she’s got plenty of food to last a few days.” He scratches his pointed ear. “We’re not staying here, right? Cloud might play buddy-buddy with you, but don’t let him fool you—he’s dangerous.”
I see Mom’s fingers tighten on her lap. “They all are,” I agree. “And no, we’re not staying long. Recoup, figure out a plan.” A plan that involves getting Xena back. But I keep that last thought to myself because I figure everyone would fight me on it. The last thing we need in an apocalypse is a cat, they’d tell me. And they’d be right.
But she’s my cat, and I don’t like leaving anyone behind.
If only I could’ve saved Dad.
Refocusing on my mom, on Eve, I should say, I narrow my eyes. “How did you do it?” She doesn’t reply, so I repeat, “I said, how’d you’d do it?”
“Do what?” she gives in, biting the hook I hung before her.
“How did you manage to sell my unborn soul to the Devil?”
Eve freezes, swallowing. For once in her life, my mom looks uncomfortable and pale. She didn’t expect that question to come popping out of my mouth, did she? The rest of the room is quiet, but I don’t care. I don’t stop my upcoming tirade. I’m too tired and frankly over all the secrecy.
“Was there a line? Was it like a lottery? Every poor and morally questionable person could pick a number, and you—”
“It was nothing like that.” A pause. “How did you find out?”
I think about saying Deb’s name, but then again, I know Eve. My mom can be nice, sure, but she can also be vindictive. “It doesn’t matter, because it’s true, right?”
David stands, motioning for everyone to follow him. He reaches for Josefina’s hand, saying, “On that note, I think we should go to the kitchen, see what food they have around here. Maybe candy?” Josie clearly likes that idea, and is all too willing to go with him, leaving her toys on the floor. Deb silently closes her notebook and follows; Mike is behind her, tossing me one last look of support.
Mr. Agent Awesome isn’t so bad. He grows on you, like hair. Nothing you can do to stop it. Shave and shave, wax and Nair—it just grows back darker and thicker.
Maybe not the best analogy.
“Yes, it’s true,” Eve says, what looks like guilt forming. “But at the time, we didn’t know who we were…”
“It’s okay,” I say. “You can say it. Who you were selling my soul to.” I sit back, shocked. Just when I think I can’t get more stunned—it happens immediately. “How could you have sold my soul without knowing who you were selling it to? How does some
thing like that happen?” Exasperated, fed up, worn-out; all of them describe me perfectly at the moment.
“The Demon we talked to said the buyer was very powerful, that we’d get all we ever wanted with no drawbacks,” she explains, but I’m not having any of it. “All we had to do was not tell you—”
“Tell me what? That I’m the key to the apocalypse? Mom, you guys were so stupid! I’d never do anything like that!”
It’s her turn to raise her voice. “You also lived a much better life than your father and I did. You never went to bed wondering how you were going to survive the next day, where to find food, warmth in the winter—”
“No, but I did go to bed wondering when my Mark was going to activate—when the Demon was going to come and take me,” I tell her, skin growing hot. In all my life, I don’t remember being this mad about my Mark before. Then again, it was only recently that I learned that the Devil owns me. “What the Demon would force me to do.” I shove a harsh finger in her face. “You did that to me. You forfeited my life for yours and Dad’s. And now he’s dead. Tell me, Mom—” I hiss out the word. “—was it worth it? Was the last twenty years worth my life?”
The past few years I’ve told myself that I’m over it. What’s done is done. There’s nothing I can do to save my soul or stop the inevitable. But with everything that’s happened, I guess I realize that I’m not over it. I still harbor resentment toward my parents; especially my mom.
I want to grab her pretentious collar and push her to the wall, scream at her, scold her; basically do what I’d wanted to do all along. My anger bubbles inside me, threatening to spill out and make me do exactly what I thought about doing.
But…in spite of it all, Eve’s my mom. My only family, now. I can’t do that to her.
I can still resent her, though, and everything that’s come about because of it.
Leaning away from her, I slowly stand and walk away. I need air. I need space. I need…something. I stop by the door, glancing at her; she hasn’t moved an inch, staring down at her lap. “If you knew selling my soul would help end the world, would you still have done it?”
“Lexa,” Eve whispers my name, “after all this time, you still don’t get it. He doesn’t need a key to get through the door. He can bash through it as easy as he can open it.”
All I can do is sigh and walk away.
My mom’s not the easiest person to get along with. Neither am I, when I’m upset.
I walk through the halls. They blend together; the same assortment of concrete and stiff decorating. I walk right by an open door, forcing myself to overlook the Vampire woman—the same leather-clad chick who got me from David’s shop—biting the neck of another girl. The Sape has her head bent, eyelids fluttering. A moan escapes her before I can fully pass the door.
Ew.
Nasty.
My fingers clench, and I exhale, seeking to rid my body of its anger. I just want to forget my Mark, forget how my mom seems not to care about the end of the world, forget the fact that my dad is dead. Is that too much to ask?
It is, I know.
I turn a corner, walking into what looks like a common area, and it’s filled to the brim with the undead blood-suckers. I recognize them as the group that stood alongside the sidelines when I was somewhat rudely and formally introduced to Cloud.
Cloud. I still can’t get over the cheesy name.
“Lexa, right?” The Vampire who gave Josefina a Barbie spoke to me, breaking the silence with a smile. His teeth are visible and very sharp. Darren, I think his name is. “Come join us.” He pats the loveseat next to him. “We’re sharing stories, waiting for the scouts to get back.”
Even though it probably isn’t the smartest thing to do, I move to sit beside him. As long as they don’t talk, they act normal, save for a few who dress peculiarly. As in, stuck in the seventies or eighties; two decades not to go back to when it comes to fashion. They’re all on the pale side, but in the dim light in this concrete jungle, their pallor isn’t so noticeable.
I sit as far from Darren as I can on the loveseat. “Scouts? What are they scouting?”
“What’s going on up there, since we don’t get cable and internet’s a bitch and a half to hook up down here,” he tells me. The big, intimidating Vamp looks to the dude who’s stuck in the seventies. “Billy was just saying how Cloud found him eating off the streets of L.A.” He reaches to me, and I’m stunned as he jostles me, overly friendly and way too carefree for an unholy, undead abomination. “Can you guess what decade it was?”
Billy, sitting back, spread out on a recliner, turns his palms up. His mouth hangs ajar, the bottom of his fangs visible. “What’s with all the seventies jokes?” He flips his bright collar. “This is back in style.”
Darren and the rest of the Vampires look at me, wanting confirmation. “Well?” Darren prods. “Is it? You’re the Human here. Out of all of us old Vamps—” He keeps speaking, ignoring the woman who asks who you calling old, and finishes, “you’d know best.”
I study Billy’s attire. The patterns, the bright colors. The gaudy gold. On his upper lip rests a mustache that practically screams to be shaved off. It hurts to stare at him for longer than five seconds. “I don’t think that look was ever in style,” I finally say, stressing the word.
Billy waves a hand. “Bah, what do you know? Kids these days have no appreciation for anything anymore. Even the music is horrible now.”
A woman in the corner speaks in hesitant English, “What you mean? I like the dancey-dancey.” The group laughs.
“When you said trading stories,” I say, “I thought…” I can’t finish the sentence without insulting the majority of Vampires around me. And insulting Vampires is bad, especially when we are taken in by their hospitality.
Or kidnapped. However you want to look at it.
“Thought they meant horror stories?” A cool voice erupts behind me.
I nearly jump out of my skin. Cloud. He came upon the group silently, noiselessly. Seriously freaky.
Cloud walks around the loveseat, and Darren instantly hops up, offering him his seat. Cloud takes it, sitting with his knees apart, a coffee cup in his white hand. The substance in it is far too dark and red to be coffee. The sight of the blood in the cup sends a quick shiver down my spine.
“I have one,” he says after taking a long sip. He licks his lip. “A few years ago, I let Billy do the laundry. Every last thing shrunk three sizes.”
Billy defends himself, “It’s the materials clothes are made with nowadays.”
“We know,” Cloud says with a smirk. “Nothing beats the seventies.” His blue eyes turn to me when he adds, “I never liked the seventies. Didn’t particularly care for the word groovy.”
Snapping his fingers, Billy exclaims, “We should bring that back in!” As the group yells a collective no, he frowns. “Why not? Groovy’s such a groovy word.”
For the next half hour, the group talks and laughs, and I do a lot of sitting and listening, shocked to find that these guys don’t seem too bad. Not the stereotypical clan of Vampires. I kind of…like them. They make me forget about the Horsemen, the apocalypse…what I lost to get here. Even though the reprieve is temporary, it’s nice.
“You know,” I slowly say as half a dozen pairs of eyes turn to me, “you guys aren’t so bad, for Vampires.”
“You not bad for Human,” the woman in the corner says, and the rest of the group agrees.
Not what I am expecting to hear, but I’ll take it.
Beside me, Cloud says, “There’s good and bad in all of us. Not every Human is like Hitler, and not every Vampire is a bloodthirsty fiend constantly struggling with holding themselves back against a pretty Human.”
I narrow my gaze at him, asking, “You’ve seen a lot of movies with Vampires, haven’t you? Because you nailed it on the head.”
“Yes, we are either noble gentlemen holding back our inner monster, or maniacal fiends, killing everything we see.” Cloud takes another sip. “He
re, we are neither monsters nor fiends.” The look he gives me in confusing, and I don’t know how to decipher it. “We are simply trying to live with the hand we were dealt.”
I never thought of it like that before. These Vampires might not have wanted to be turned. They might have been forced. Heck, maybe they weren’t even aware of the supernatural world. Bitten by another, killed and turned, the parasites rose them from the dead and plunged them into a world they didn’t know existed.
How awful.
“Of course, we are dangerous. We can kill you in the blink of an eye,” Cloud reminds me, instantly drawing me out of my sympathetic phase. “But so can any Human, when they’re pushed.”
Wise words, coming from a Vampire who’s been around for centuries.
Cloud stands, moving to the alcove’s exit. Clutching the empty mug, he gestures for me. “Come. I think your Warlock friend wishes to speak with you.”
Eyebrows creasing, I’m beside him in an instant, saying, “About what?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to trust me, or any of us.”
I nod, remembering all the terrible things he told me Vampires did. He even suspected them, at first, for the violence around my university. I don’t trust them—they are undead—but my gut tells me that they had nothing to do with it. At least this group didn’t.
“Although trust is something very rarely earned in the first twenty-four hours,” he adds seriously, as if he has a lot of experience with earning and giving trust. If you’re that old, you have to be. He stops right before the double doors that lead into the kitchen and eating area.
“Thanks. Could you do me a favor and wait here? If I have to find my way back in this place, I’ll get lost.” The truth.
Cloud smiles faintly. “You’ll learn.” And then he vanishes.
Well, he doesn’t so much as vanish as disappear; instead, he walks away, leaving me with an irking feeling that it means more than it seems to. And I can’t help but wonder why he waited so long to tell me that David wanted to talk to me.
The eating area is what I can only describe as a mess hall—tables and tables full of chairs lined up expertly in the large room. The kitchen sits in the far back, completely open concept and newly renovated. If they can’t figure out a way to get cable or internet down here, how’d they manage to update their kitchen?
A Mark Unwilling Page 9
