The stories about me weren’t that scary.
Raul suddenly slumped as well, falling to the ground with the gracelessness of one who was completely out of it. Shit. A sharp sting in the side of my neck took my voice and my consciousness a moment before I could tell the others that I was one of the good guys.
Chapter Three
Sonya
The incessant beeping of my alarm pulled me from a foggy sleep. Since it was on my phone I could have it set for a tone or a song I liked, but then chances were it wouldn’t wake me. The sound was hollow, as though I was hearing it in a tunnel or from another room. Cold, hard tiles beneath my cheek yanked me back to what happened with a clarity I’d rather not have. The stench of bleach, pine-scented cleaner, and dried blood nearly burned my nose it was so strong. That beeping soon birthed a headache that felt like it was trying to split the two halves of my brain apart.
I had to shut it off.
Muscles protesting like I’d run a marathon I didn’t bother to train for, I pushed myself up to a sitting position. Expecting to see blood, I searched the floor around me but found only a small pool near where my head had been. Base drums began to pound with the insistence of a war party inside my head, the volume increasing with each pulse of my alarm. The left side of my neck ached, but not as bad as I thought it would. Using the vanity, I pulled myself up, half expecting my legs to be shaky. But I felt steady, almost strong even. The nausea was gone too. Maybe the bite wasn’t as bad as I thought. Or maybe he slipped something into my drink and the entire night was a drug-induced nightmare.
The mirror revealed four scabbed-over wounds surrounded by crusty blood that trailed down between my breasts, gluing locks of my black hair to my shoulder. It was hard to tell how bad it was under all the blood, but one thing was for certain: the bastard did actually bite me.
I should have known better than to mess around with a guy who belonged to some kind of speed freak group he liked to compare to the Toretto family from the Fast & Furious movies. Though he had called them a pack instead of a family. It had seemed exciting at the time, but now it made me feel like an idiot.
Libido chalks up another point, brains still remain at zero.
Alarm shot adrenalin through my veins, blowing my eyes wide open. Forgetting about the possibility of being weak from blood loss, I dashed into the living room, grabbed my phone off the coffee table, and shut the alarm off. For a split second, I thought about calling Nikki from work. But I felt all right. A quick scan of the room revealed it to be empty. Daylight streamed through the thin curtains, making me wonder how long I had been out. Bumps rose along my bare arms. I had to make sure no one else was here.
Speaking of my libido, what had happened to the Norse-god-looking guy? Concern nagged deep inside. I tried to tell myself it was only because he had come to my rescue, but I wasn’t making a very convincing argument.
Pulling out my mace, I worked my way systematically through my small apartment. I didn’t think Raul would come back, not with that big blond guy chasing him off, but I had to be sure. I knew the sense of security the mace gave me was false—and that I wouldn’t use it on anyone anyway—but it made me feel better. Mostly I carried it because it was the last thing my dad had given me, and he had told me to always keep it close. Hell, the shit had probably expired. The daylight made me worry about my rescuer a bit. He had said he’d come back to check on me. But considering that he looked like he could pass for Thor, I figured he could probably hold his own against Raul. Just in case, I peeked out the peephole in the door. After adjusting to the blinding light of day, all I saw was an empty walkway. The concern in my stomach blossomed into an H.R. Giger–sized alien. Part of me wanted to know what happened to him—needed to know—but first I had to take care of myself.
In the absence of the cacophony of the alarm, I could hear the buzz of the refrigerator along with a low droning that I think may have been electricity. Maybe a transformer was going out somewhere. That had to be it. Concentrating, I tried to hear beyond it, to make sure no one waited around the corners or doors in the few rooms that made up my small apartment. Only when I was certain each room was clear and the deadbolt was engaged on the front door did I finally retrieve some clothes from my bedroom and return to the bathroom.
Hot water cranked as high as I could stand it, I climbed into the shower and let it pour over me, washing away the scents—if not the memory—of Raul. For some reason the floral scents of my bodywash and shampoo were so overwhelming that I had to use half the normal amount. Even then, the scents burned my nose, forcing me to rinse until I had washed as much of them from me as I could. Above them I could smell the soap scum clinging to what I thought had been a clean shower, and the hints of mold in corners here and there.
I returned to the bathroom mirror to inspect the bite marks again. The small exhaust fan clunked along like a wounded animal, scarcely clearing the mist. Pulling the towel—which smelled entirely too strongly of fabric softener—from my long hair, I used it to wipe the mirror clean. That’s the last time I was buying the cheap shit. The spendy stuff had to smell better, or at least not as strong. Ugh. In a few moments the exhaust fan cleared away the film that remained. The four holes I remembered were covered with scabs that looked several weeks old. Around them my skin was only slightly pink, as if the wounds had been healing for some time.
“Impossible,” I murmured, not liking how loud my own voice sounded.
It occurred to me that maybe I had been passed out from blood loss a lot longer than I had thought. The ravenous grumbling of my stomach suggested that was a good possibility. What if I had been on the bathroom floor for days? No way. Then again, that entire night seemed impossible now. One of my first stops had to be the hospital so I could get a tetanus shot, because damn. Aside from the ick factor of being on the bathroom floor for who knew how long, another thought pulled a groan from me.
“I am so going to get fired.” Okay, maybe the hospital would have to be my second stop.
I dug my phone out from beneath the pile of clothes I had thrown on it. It hadn’t occurred to me to check the date when I had shut the alarm off. The display read June 12th, two days after the date with Raul. No fucking way.
“Yep, fired.”
Shuddering, I pulled my clothes on with a resigned slowness. I was so remaining celibate after this. For good measure, I slapped a few Band-Aids over the wounds. I would deal with the weirdness of what had happened with Raul later. Right now I had to face the music and prepare to beg to keep my job. Yeah, right, as if I could debase myself like that. After rushing through my morning routine and glancing in the empty fridge, I thought maybe I should try to grovel, at least a little. I tucked my cell phone in my pocket and opened the door.
On my way out I grabbed an apple and wrapped a silk scarf around my neck to hide the Band-Aids. I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone seeing the wounds and asking what had happened. Not until I figured it out. Midafternoon sunlight heated the concrete, bringing out the smell of the tar and the moss that clung in the cracks and along the edges. A quick glance both directions revealed what my ears already told me: I was alone. No sign of Raul or the blond stranger. Designer cowboy boots clicking out a rock song rhythm, I made my way down the shaded walkway between my apartment and the one crowded next to it. While I was possibly the furthest thing from a cowgirl, the boots made me feel badass, and right now, shaking in my boots as I literally was, I needed to feel a little badass.
Sunlight pierced through the gloom, forcing me to put my sunglasses on before I stepped out of the walkway between the buildings. The overwhelming tangy scent of freshly cut green grass tickled my nose so badly I had to suppress a sneeze. Damn if I couldn’t still smell the exhaust of the lawn mower. The groundskeeper must be close by. But I didn’t hear a lawnmower. Thankfully, the almost sweet scent of the tall pines that loomed over the three-story apartment buildings helped dilute it enough to be tolerable. The catchy, high-pitched tune of meadowlarks singing in
the trees sounded particularly loud today, almost piercing. I tossed my apple core at the base of the nearest tree and watched the yellow-breasted birds descend upon it like a pack of dogs. Big though the Red Delicious had been, it hadn’t even taken the edge off my hunger. No surprise, considering I had been passed out on the bathroom floor for two days.
My mind started going over all the species of bacteria in a human mouth, then promptly launched into the diseases that could result from a bite. I walked faster.
Trying to look everywhere at once, I crossed the sidewalk at a brisk pace and leaped into my topless black 1975 Jeep CJ. Chills of trepidation raced up my back even though the streets were empty. I couldn’t shake that crawling sensation of being watched. Paranoia most likely, but that didn’t banish it. One hand twisted my long black hair up while the other reached for my ball cap from the center console. Hair tamed, I grabbed the screwdriver from the glove box, stuck it in the altered ignition and started the Jeep. Passionate as I was about restoring this rig, fixing the ignition was the one thing I hadn’t gotten around to yet. Reliable as ever, it purred to life despite my fear that it would fail like in a bad horror movie.
Common sense told me to go to the hospital and get checked out first. Regardless of how good the wounds looked, I had been bitten by a person and had been passed out for two days. I would need to get tested. Clearly all was not copasetic with me, what with the auditory heightening. But, it was hard to pay medical bills and college tuition while unemployed. Testing would have to wait. At least until after I tried to salvage my job. So several miles later, I turned left toward work at the intersection instead of right toward the hospital. After all, aside from being hungry and my sense of smell and hearing being totally out of whack, I felt fine. The urge to speed was hard to fight, but I managed. No matter how early I got there, it wouldn’t make up for missing two days without calling. And I wasn’t about to weave recklessly in and out of traffic and hit a car or one of the many deer that roamed the streets here. That would only make me miss yet another day.
As the primary buildings of Twin Falls began to show up in my rearview mirror I relaxed a bit. Mostly hilly scrubland stretched out to my right, and fewer roads intersected with the highway I cruised down. Only a few cars shared the road with me, and none of them were black sports cars like Raul’s. Steeling myself, I took the side street off into the tree-covered hills that led to the bar. More than hunger rumbled in my stomach when the single-story dive bar came into sight, standing like a lone hitchhiker alongside the road. Two cars sat in the gravel parking lot: the owner/cook’s beat-up pickup and Nikki’s sedan.
The biting incident with Raul had shaken me in a way I really didn’t want to think about. Love-biting wasn’t something I was opposed to, but tearing into flesh with fangs, yeah I was against that. Part of me—hell most of me—wanted to believe that the fangs had been a delusion created by some drug the bastard had slipped me, that or purchased from a costume shop. But wouldn’t cheap plastic fangs break before doing the kind of damage that left me passed out on the bathroom floor? Likely, but maybe Raul had them specially made, which made him kinkier—and creepier—than I had imagined anyone could be.
Having stalled as much as I could, I removed the ball cap and ran a brush through my hair before leaping out of the Jeep. The brisk pace I kept while approaching the bar was out of a need to make up as much time as possible, or so I told myself. It had nothing to do with the way the scent of the pine trees bordering the parking lot drew me like a magnet, or the thought of someone that could be hiding in the shadows there. Someone in particular. Digging my keys out of my jacket pocket, I shook the notion off. Raul had gotten his twisted rocks off and was likely long gone by now thanks to the blond stranger. What had happened to Blondie, who knew?
Stale beer, salty pretzels, and the sweetness of strong alcohol assaulted my nose the moment I stepped inside the dimly lit bar. Trying to breathe through my mouth, I wove my way through the tables and upside down chairs that sat atop them. Jeans cut so short they barely covered the skinny cheeks of the ass they were meant to contain met me as I approached the side entrance to the bar. The blingy pockets didn’t help make that ass look any bigger, like I knew the woman hoped they did. Mousy-brown ponytail bouncing, she turned around with mop in hand. Her eyes went wide, she dropped the mop, and screamed when she saw me. The sound pierced my hungover ears like arrows.
Hands over my ears, half to shut out the sound, and half so I didn’t smack her, I shook my head. “Damn, Nikki!”
Fingers clutching at her heart as though she feared it would burst out of her chest, she stared at me with wide eyes. “Sorry, but you snuck up on me. And, girl, we thought you were dead.”
“So did I.”
I picked the mop up and handed it to her. Needing to get away from the overpowering stench of the bleach water, I started toward the kitchen. Not that it would be much better in there, but at least there wouldn’t be a bucket full of the stuff. Whatever drug that bastard must have slipped me was still seriously messing with my sense of smell. I hoped it wore off before it caused a headache and that it wouldn’t bring one on when it did.
“Okay, not dead. I figured you took home takeout. You did, didn’t you? You never do that,” she said.
I cringed. Takeout—the waitresses’ polite term for taking home a guy they met in the bar that night. To split hairs, that wasn’t exactly what I had done. Raul had been coming in to see me every night for two weeks, tipping heavily, cranking up the charm, even bringing flowers the last time. While that was far more time than most of the women in this place took, it was far less for me. In fact, I had never done it. One-night stands weren’t my thing. Whatever possessed me to take him home after having known him for only two weeks, I didn’t know. At least I hadn’t let him in. Who knows what he would have done if I had.
“It was that hot guy in the Jag, wasn’t it? I want to hear all about it!” she called after me.
Ignoring her, I pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen. The rapid clicking of a knife on a cutting board drew me around the fryers to the prep counter in the back. Bald head shining with sweat, my boss stood hovered over a half-chopped head of cauliflower. His white apron strained to hold in his bulk as if he intended the thing to be a girdle rather than an apron. So as not to repeat the incident with Nikki and potentially have a knife thrown at me, I rattled my keys in my pocket as I approached.
The chopping ceased and a pair of muddy brown eyes shifted over to glare at me. “Sonya. You’re alive.”
The fact that he didn’t sound happy about it was going to make the necessary groveling almost impossible. But it was grovel or get another month behind on my tuition loans. “I had an accident, couldn’t make it in.”
“Or to a phone?”
“I was knocked out.”
Lips pursing, he shook his head. “Well, no one called in for you.”
Stiffening, I had to force my teeth apart so I could answer. “I don’t have anyone. You know that.”
The chopping commenced. “Not my problem. You not coming in, now that’s my problem.”
Slow, steady breaths helped cool my anger a little. “I’ll work double shifts, no days off, whatever it takes to make up for it.”
Again the chopping stopped and he turned halfway toward me. A grin revealed nicotine-stained teeth. His gaze crawled up my body. “Whatever it takes?”
Anger so hot it hurt scorched its way through me. My teeth ached as if I had been grinding them again, but I hadn’t. “Fuck you.”
The vehement words came out sounding strange, as if something were in the way. Something pricked inside my mouth and I tasted the coppery flavor of blood. On instinct, my tongue rolled forward, feeling my teeth. What felt like fangs stretched both down and up. A set of two on the top and two on the bottom, exactly like I had seen on Raul. No way. The world swam a bit as I worked my way up to a panic attack. Maybe some of whatever Raul had slipped into my drink remained in my system. Unlikely
, highly unlikely, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around the alternative. I took a few deep breaths to push the panic back.
“What the fuck?” I whispered.
Thankfully, my boss’s eyes were on my breasts instead of my mouth.
“That’s what it will take,” he said.
Pressing my lips together, I spun away from him. “Not a chance in hell, you son of a bitch,” I said as I stormed away.
The chopping commenced.
“Oh no, did he fire you?” Nikki asked as I blew through the swinging doors.
Tongue working against the impossible fangs in my mouth, I tossed my keys onto the bar and kept walking. “No, I quit,” I said without looking her way.
Upon reaching the door I realized I had locked it behind me. If I waited, I risked Nikki seeing the fangs that may or may not be a delusion left over from the other night. Was it the delusion, or was I deluding myself that he may have drugged me? I couldn’t risk having her answer that for me. A swift turn of the knob popped the lock and a hard shove with my shoulder opened the door. Fear fueled my steps as I did my best not to run to my Jeep. The whole “Raul drugged me” excuse was starting to seriously lose credence. My mind did not want to go where the symptoms were trying to take me; I was a rational girl after all.
An envelope tucked beneath my driver’s side windshield wiper stopped me dead in my tracks. My gaze attempting to dart every which way at once, I snatched the envelope and jumped into the Jeep. My surroundings appeared as vacant as when I had arrived. Leaning forward, I pulled my lips back from my teeth and looked in the rearview mirror. Unless the delusion had graduated into hallucinations, there really were fangs in my mouth. Two sets on the bottom and two on the top, like a canine. I had seen something like this before, a long time ago, but I had written it off as a trick of the shadows and moonlight. It took several deep breaths to drive back the rising panic that threatened to make me throw up.
Once Bitten_Wolves of Hemlock Hollow Page 2
