“Ripe is more like it,” I said, wiping phlegm from my lips. I cleared my throat with a few coughs and stared into the dark locker. “Ok. Let’s get this over with. How do I—”
“Just lean in and inhale,” Faith said.
I stepped forward. The stench nearly knocked me off my feet. “Fuck,” I said, eyes watering as I approached. “Why does all the bad shit always happen to me?”
“Suck it up,” Guy said. “It’s just a little whiff.”
“A little whiff? Fuck you,” I said, spinning and stabbing a finger in his direction. “It’s your fault I’m in this mess.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You killing that man in Austin—”
“Which I apologized for.”
“You dragging me into this mess—”
“Which I’m very guilty about.”
“You turning me into some half-Kaldr, half-Howler monstrosity.”
“I already said—”
“Oh whatever!” I cried, turning to face the locker.
For one brief moment, I thought I saw a pair of yellow eyes stare back at me.
Stay calm, stay calm.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
“Only in my life,” I mumbled.
Leaning forward, I fought the urges to barf and run away, then took in a long, deep breath through my nose.
I gagged.
My nostrils burned.
My brow-bone tingled.
A howl tore through my conscience and raised every hair on my body.
“Did it work?” Guy asked from behind me.
I stumbled back and fell against him. “Yeah,” I said, already feeling some instinctual, primal urge. “It did.”
They’d gone into the desert. I could feel it.
West.
Part 3
“You’re not coming with me,” I said.
“Jason,” Guy started, his voice becoming a whine as the desperation began to shine through.
I turned, my gaze hardening as my eyes fell upon him. “We’re not having this discussion.”
“But—”
He trailed off as I continued about the room. Pulling clothes from drawers, pushing objects in bags, arranging essentials along the dresser—at one point, I looked up to find him in a state of shock, his eyes wide and his mouth agape, but I paid him no mind. Instead, I continued about my tasks as if he weren’t even there—a phantom in my already-troubled conscience.
There was nothing to discuss.
He wasn’t coming with me
I wouldn’t break—not even under the colossal pressure of his painfully-stubborn demeanor.
“You’re fucking kidding me,” he said when it finally sank in that I wasn’t going to listen to him. “I can’t believe it.”
“You better,” I replied, “‘cause when I get in that truck, you’re not getting in with me.”
“Are you fucking crazy?” Guy asked. “You can’t go out there alone.”
“But I am.”
“They’ll kill you.”
“And if I take you with me,” I said, spinning to face him when I’d finally had enough, “they’ll just have one more thing to use against me.”
He stayed silent. A muscle in his eye twitched and his mouth was set in resolute anger, but what terrified me most was the utter rage pooling off his body.
“Don’t give me that look,” I said.
“Jason—”
I shoved clothes in a backpack.
“You can’t ask me to stay here,” he finally said.
“Kinda like you asked me the last time you left?”
He didn’t respond. I’d obviously struck a nerve.
“If I take you with me,” I said, “and if for whatever reason you get caught, they’re gonna use you against me. They won’t let me fight, they won’t let me leave, and they’ll most definitely kill you if something goes wrong. There’s no discussion here, Guy. I have to go—alone.”
“Take me halfway.”
“No.”
Goddammit Jason—”
“You’re not gonna get your way this time,” I said. “This is my choice. And you can’t manipulate it like you did last time by knocking me out.”
“I was only concerned for your safety.”
“And look where that got us!”
There—the thorn in my side, ripped free with every ounce of anger I’d managed to keep restrained. I didn’t look at him, I didn’t acknowledge him—I didn’t even flinch when a frustrated, angry sigh passed from his lips. I’d finally untethered my inhibitions and let him know how I truly feel.
After several quiet moments of waiting for his response, I crouched, zipped up my backpack, then shrugged it over my shoulder before reaching for a pair of sunglasses.
When I finally did look at Guy, his face was a portrait devoid of emotion.
“I guess this is goodbye,” he said.
“Yeah,” I replied, sliding the glasses onto my face. “I guess it is.”
I walked out of the bedroom without looking back.
“You’re sure you know what you’re doing?” Amadeo asked, once again handing me a gun and a cartridge of silver bullets.
“I’m sure,” I said.
The Spaniard nodded and flipped through the day planner I’d pulled from my pack. Within was several-hundred dollars cash, the fake ID he’d given me for my last trip, several maps of Texas, and a contact number which he’d never explained but was simply marked Emergency. He paid particular attention to the map I’d stapled to the inside—which highlighted several areas of Northwest Texas I suspected were of importance—before nodding and passing the planner back to me.
“Does it look ok?” I asked.
“It looks fine,” he replied. “You’re sure you have enough money for your trip?”
“I’m sure.”
“Hotels? Food? That sort of thing?”
“I’ll probably just sleep in the truck,” I said. “Just to be safe, you know?”
Nodding, Amadeo hooked a thumb into his belt-loop and stepped back. He didn’t say anything for several moments as I continued to arrange supplies on the back seat. When he finally did, it was preceded with a sigh that marked a conversation I’d expected. “I take it Guy’s not coming with you,” he said, the tone in his voice understanding but still cautious.
“No,” I said, shifting my pack behind the seat. “He’s not.”
“Are you sure that’s safe?”
“I’d rather go and risk dying alone than have to worry about him,” I replied, turning to face the man I’d come to consider a father-in-law. I drew in a breath, struggling to keep from breaking down, and tilted my head up to look him in the eyes. “Look…I don’t know how dangerous this’ll be. I don’t even know if I’ll come back alive. All I know is that, if something happens and they get a hold of him, who knows what they’ll do. I’m going alone to ensure his safety and my sanity. If I have to worry about him on top of everything—”
“You don’t have to explain,” Amadeo said, stepping forward and setting his hands on my shoulders. “Your reasons are your own. Do know, however, that your actions have not gone unnoticed. Many of the Kaldr here consider you a martyr for the choices you have made.”
“What?” I asked, stunned.
“We are a very selfish people, Jason—seldom seen, very few. Even in our prime we were but a civilization hidden in the mountains. Acts of selflessness were considered arbitrary or for the weak-minded, so for you to refuse Guy’s sacrifice—when you could have just as easily accepted it—is…well…beyond what many Kaldr think themselves capable of.”
“I just want to do the right thing.”
“And you are. According to many, you are safeguarding the future by protecting our prince. Of course, some believe you wrong, but that is their opinions and theirs alone. Don’t let outside judgment sway your decisions.”
“What do you think?”
“What do I think?” Amadeo asked, that fabled gl
immer lighting his eyes. He smiled and turned his attention to the fields—where several Kaldr worked, completely ignorant to the two men watching and speaking near the Winters’ family mansion. “I believe you greater than most men.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Amadeo clapped my shoulder and turned. Though I closed the back door and popped the driver’s side open, he didn’t move—even when I slid into the vehicle and pushed the key into the ignition.
“Jason?” he said, not bothering to glance over his shoulder to look at me.
I paused before turning the key to look back at him. “Yes?” I asked.
“Trust your instincts. And no matter what, always follow your heart.”
“I will,” I replied.
Though I waited and watched Amadeo as he walked toward the house, I couldn’t help but think, as I looked upon its towering structure and sweeping wings, that this could be the last time I would see it.
Turning the ignition, I fired the truck to life, pulled away from the garage, and aimed for the gate that was already open.
This was it—the future.
And I was utterly, completely alone.
I cried from the time I left the Winters’ family ranch all the way up until I pulled over near I-10. Consumed by the emotions I’d managed to hold at bay, I leaned against the steering wheel and tried to regain my bearings.
My life flashed before my eyes.
The message.
The meeting.
The sex.
The confession.
The break-in.
The reveal.
The manhunt.
The attack.
Guy’s kidnapping.
My rescue.
The infection.
His salvation.
My curse.
It all came so fast that I couldn’t help but scream and slam my hands against the steering wheel hard enough to cause three blaring honks to bark from the horn. There was no one around. No one would hear me. I could’ve been screaming for my life and the only one that would acknowledge it was God, and even then He’d done a pretty shitty job of crafting my existence.
When the outburst was over, I flipped the ignition into standby and rolled down the window to inhale the baking summer air.
I couldn’t lose it—not now, not when I had so much at stake.
The same sensation that’d washed over me after sniffing Missy Sue’s corpse enveloped my senses.
Knowing, without a doubt, that I was on the right track, I started the truck and headed toward I-10.
A late start brought the day to a conclusion at a vacant rest stop in the early hours of the evening. Ravenous, I devoured a pair of ham-and-cheese sandwiches with the belief that they would sate my hunger and dull the horrible throb in my head. When they didn’t, I merely laid back and closed my eyes, thinking nothing of it. It’d been a long day. I’d driven non-stop, emotionally wrecked and starving from lack of nourishment. It was probably just my body’s way of telling me to rest.
So I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
When an hour passed and the feeling hadn’t stopped, I opened my eyes to look at the dashboard clock.
This wasn’t some coincidence. Something was wrong.
I reached down and was about to set a hand on my stomach when I felt the chill pooling from my body.
“Shit,” I whispered.
In my haste to leave the Winters’ ranch, I’d forgotten to feed.
“Fuck.”
The undeniable burden of my situation hit me harder than I’d anticipated. Camped in the middle of nowhere, with dozens of miles separating me from any Texan town, it’d be impossible to find sustenance. Of course, I could always wait for someone to stop, but who knew when that would be, if ever. First it would start with the chill, then the headaches, the unbearable cramps in the stomach. My body would cannibalize itself until it could glean no more, and then—
I dreaded to think of the icy wraith in the mirror.
If someone didn’t come, I’d—
The sound of an approaching vehicle and the lights of a big rig slashed through the truck.
I breathed.
Of course. The drivers would be ferrying supplies from all parts of Texas. They’d have to stop, if only to piss. If I followed one of them into the bathroom…
Popping the driver’s door opened, I slid out and began to make my way toward the stop.
As I’d expected, the newcomer excited his vehicle. “Howdy,” he said.
“Howdy,” I replied, the Southern twang naturally creeping into my voice.
“Cold tonight, in’it?”
I hadn’t noticed, but nodded all the same. The driver stepped from the shadow of his vehicle and greeted me with a smile. He was tall, and had a bit of a belly on him, but was otherwise good-looking. It wouldn’t be too hard to feed off him.
“Figured I’d stop and drain the lizard,” he replied, reaching down and taking hold of his crotch as he noted my visual sweep.
“Yeah,” I said. “Me too.”
He gestured to the stop with a jut of his chin. “After you.”
I was keenly aware that I’d allowed myself to turn my back on him. Out here, anything could happen. He could rob me, rape me, knock me out and drag me back into his truck to kill me. And what’s worse was that he could get away with it. My truck’s plates weren’t real. They routed back to someone in New Mexico. He could easily snuff me out of existence.
But I ignored it, instead opting to continue my ruse and gain the upper hand. I reached the door and held it open long enough for him to step into the lobby before following him to the men’s room, located past a glass case with maps and other historical paraphernalia.
He stepped up to the urinals and fished himself out. I did the same, sighing as I relinquished hold of my bladder.
“There you go,” the driver laughed. “That’s the stuff.”
I glanced out the corner of my eye and watched him finish. But rather than return himself to his pants, he stood there, fondling and stroking his flaccid shaft. I licked my lips without much thought and shook myself off.
“Like what you see?” the driver asked, looking from his crotch to me.
“Yeah,” I said.
He gestured toward the handicapped stall at the far end of the room. “In there.”
I went without question, the thrill of a successful hunt already coursing through my veins. He stepped inside and sat on the seat while waiting for me to lock up.
“You gonna blow me?” he asked.
I answered by falling to my knees and taking the flared head of his cock in my mouth.
“Sheeet,” he said, groaning as I sucked more of him into my mouth. “Hot damn.”
I bobbed my head along his length and cupped his balls while fumbling with my zipper. It was almost impossible to concentrate with his dick in my mouth, but I didn’t care. I could already feel the energy coursing through me.
“Fuck,” he said, convulsing as I deepthroated and then pulled off him.
“I need you to fuck me,” I said.
“But I ain’t got no—” He stopped as I kicked my pants and underwear off, revealing my hard cock and rounded ass. “Condoms.”
“That’s all right,” I said. “I’m clean.”
“You sure you’re ready to—”
I answered by straddling his waist and slipping down his weeping cock.
I gasped.
He moaned. “Shit,” he said.
He was bigger than I’d expected, but the one advantage of being a Kaldr was that the sex was less painful and far more enjoyable. I steadied myself on his shoulders and slowly slipped down, groaning as the head of his dick hit and then traveled along my prostate.
“Shit man,” he said. “You’re the tightest bitch I’ve had in a long time.”
“You like that?” I asked, sighing as I leaned back and sunk all the way down.
He slapped and gripped my ass. “Fuck ye
ah,” he said.
I gripped the support bar with one hand and his shoulder with my other as I started to bounce. I gasped, bucking, groaning as the stranger picked up his pace and took control of the situation. My body burned as it never had before and I gasped, on the verge of orgasm. I grabbed his shoulders and rammed myself onto him, nearly crying out as pleasure took hold.
“Fuck,” I cried. “Fuck!”
I bucked upon him, jerked a few times, then gasped as my eyes rolled back into my head and I came all over his shirt.
His delirious grunts and final thrusts ended our coupling.
Sliding off, I reached for my pants and slid them up my legs, holding them steady as I reached out to touch his face. “You won’t remember this,” I said, channeling the slightest amount of energy into him. “Or me.”
His chest heaved, desperate to regain breath.
I exited the building, climbed into the truck and drove off without looking back.
I knew my journey was about to come to an end when a force unlike any other pulled me from I-10 and into the deserts beyond Van Horn. Drawn. Instinctively, compulsively, I drove until the shadow of the Guadalupe Mountains came into view and realized, with horror, this had been their plan all along.
Alone, in the middle of nowhere, and so close to the New Mexican border I could toss a stone and watch it land on the other side—there was no denying what they’d done. They’d isolated me from everyone. The police, the Kaldr, the random passerby—
Help.
It was only when I pulled over in an effort to regain my bearings that I saw them.
The Howlers appeared from the brush alongside the road and behind the rocks in the near distance—three men, dressed in leather, with bandanas around their temples and sunglasses covering their eyes. Their heavily-muscled frames cut shadows across the horizon and imposed upon my conscience the blight of my misfortune as they approached. I knew who they were. There was no denying it. The smell was in the air, the stench of Missy Sue’s body in my mind. But I hadn’t expected them so soon, so suddenly, without any warning.
I reached for the gun in the center console, but stopped.
It wouldn’t matter—not here, not with three of them. They’d kill me before I even had the chance to shoot. And besides—they were probably armed too.
His Kiss of Darkness Page 10
