by Rei Fletcher
"You do this often?"
"No. I mean, I can do it, though."
He shook his head. Was he going to take her to the police or something? It didn't seem so bad compared to those things.
"Where do you need to go?"
"Hoferkamp. Just drop me off at the corner by the highway."
"Is that home? Someone waiting for you?"
"Yeah. I called," she added, in case that made him think twice about any real funny business.
He pulled in along the side of the highway by Ash's road. She jumped when he turned off the car. Neither moved, while the engine ticked quietly to itself. Was he going to tell her what to do next? She could do it, but she couldn't seem to make herself move. If he wanted it done, he was going to have to start.
"Are you gonna be okay to walk from here?"
He was watching her, and she couldn't tell what he was thinking at all. He had hockey hair, she thought, like a version of the guys at school who picked games apart every day at lunch, just aged up into his twenties. Not exactly gone to seed, yet, not that it would matter since it was for money. When her eyes dropped to his crotch he snorted, turning to look at the traffic passing on the highway.
"I said I would."
"Fuck it, girl, I'm giving you an out." His eyes skimmed over her. She hugged her backpack tighter. Her eyes followed his hands when he reached for his wallet. Confused, she took the twenty he held out. "You don't spend it, you hear? You keep that somewhere safe, in case you need to get away again. Fuck. A blow job." He shook his head and lit up a cigarette. "You need to study economics."
"Thanks. Thank you." She swallowed hard. "Thank you."
"Watch yourself. Next guy will be pure shit, I kid you fucking not."
The numbness lingered as she walked to Ash's and curled up outside her door. She couldn't close her eyes, though exhaustion crushed her chest. She could only sit and shudder while the shadows drew long across the grass, and she told herself over and over that it was the only wind moving the trees.
'Tis the wind and nothing more.
There was a rush, and the door opened. She looked up at Ash, pale like porcelain. She couldn't have fed, then.
"I heard you calling. I couldn't come. I'm so sorry, my girl. I couldn't shake my sleep. I could only listen."
She stood up slowly, aching and stiff and miserable. Ash helped steady her.
"What happened?"
"I found the nest."
"Jesus Christ."
"Nothing to do with…it."
She meant it to come out easy, like a TV show, but she ended up broken, sobbing against Ash's shoulder.
Ash took her to the couch, fully picking her up, and later she'd hold it as a stark reminder that Ash was incredibly strong because she was a vampire, and a kind of monster herself. In the moment, all she wanted to do was hide.
It felt like hours to get it all out in a way that Ash understood. It hollowed her. Then she rested, eyes half-closed, and listened. Ash had put on music, and she was humming along to it. The air was sweet, the house was clean and pretty. Ash was there, strong enough to lean on. She had so thoroughly run like a cowardly, gibbering idiot. She couldn't even pretend that she had any dignity left, so she stayed where she was.
She woke with a pillow under her head and a soft blanket over her. Ash was reading by the light of a lamp, her feet pulled up like a tidy animal. A cat, maybe. Marianne's fuzzy mind couldn't provide the name of the movement, but there was a group of artists that painted women like that. She thought they were a bit insipid when she'd looked at their work, but now she understood what they were trying for.
"How do you feel?"
Awful. "I'm okay."
Waterhouse? Was that the painter?
"Uh-huh. So you'll be saying no to a shower?"
And she laughed at Marianne's expression, and enough time had passed that Marianne could even welcome sheepish embarrassment.
The shower was an experience. Big enough that she could stretch out both arms and not touch the sides, with a clear glass wall on the door side. The rest was textured black stone. Hot water poured down on her from directly above her head while she scrubbed herself raw. The soap and shampoo smelled like plants. One of them was minty, making her skin tingle. It helped clear her head a little. She still felt wrung out, like she used to feel after track meets, but more like herself. When she reached for the brand new toothbrush left for her she could see no sign in the mirror of anything that had happened. If there was no sign, then she could pretend the world was still normal.
She looked at the toothbrush. Left? Bought for her, really, wasn't it?
"Do you brush your teeth?" She perched on a kitchen chair while Ash unboxed chicken and potato wedges. Her clothes were being washed. She hadn't had to ask. Ash had lent her pyjamas and a robe. She thought there might have been silk involved. Everything was soft against her skin.
"These pearly whites?"
"Just...you know."
"Ran to the store while you were sleeping."
"You mean that literally."
"It was quicker. Better for the environment."
The food came from a local diner attached to a gas station. It was like the set-up at her job, except the food was way better. She dug in, very deliberately thinking about how hungry she was, and the food and the place she was in, so she wouldn't think of the tumble of images that pressed close behind her eyes. Ash busied herself at the stove. She smelled chocolate.
"Thank you. For all of...I'm sorry. I know...I thought I could do it. Maybe I'm not good enough for this."
"You did fine. Better than fine. Reckless," she added, with a look over her shoulder, "but better than I did with the same time on the hunt. You've nothing to apologise for. Nor should you worry about what I think, nor anyone else." Marianne heard the sound of pouring, and a little cloud of steam rose in the air. "You did the job, you got out alive, and now the hunt is that much easier."
Even though she said Marianne was reckless, it didn't seem to be a real criticism. Or not serious, anyway. Marianne didn't feel so bad.
She brought over a mug. It was cocoa, with an edge of alcohol. Marshmallows bobbed around in it. Ash was eating one herself. After a long, silent moment she learned that vampires could blush.
"You have a plan for it?"
She looked at the marshmallow in her hand. "Oh! You mean...Yes, I thought a little fire would do, but the hole you described...I think a bigger bang will be necessary."
"Explosives?"
"One of the benefits of an industry town like this one: plenty of places with the resources we'll need. No hiding it, though. There'll be police and investigations. That sort of thing is easier to finagle when gas lines are involved."
"You've done it before."
"Now and then."
She looked into her cocoa. "I need to learn so much."
Ash sat beside her. She was cool, in the temperature sense, but Marianne liked her sitting there instead of standing or sitting across from her. "What you saw, it's enough to make a strong man weep. There's no shame in stepping back."
"There is to me. Anyway, you shouldn't have to do it alone." She sipped her cocoa. "Do we have to go in?"
"That'll be my job and no argument from you. It's laying charges and there's no time to teach you just now."
"How did you learn it all? The fighting and the explosives and all of that?"
"There have been a lot of wars, both visible and invisible."
"This kind of thing is an invisible war?" Ash nodded. "You fought on the good side?"
Ash leaned her head on her hand. The trailing end of her braid looped on the counter. Her shirt was open at the throat. There'd be no pulse, she thought. Even so, she'd been comforting. It'd been nice. More than nice. She looked too long, and leaned her face close over her cocoa when she finally stopped, to hide the burning red of her cheeks.
"I tried. The right side is sometimes hard to see in the moment. History is better at deciding. Well, sometime
s."
"World War I?"
"Sat it out." She squished the remainder of her marshmallow. "I listened to the bombardments from England. It wasn't a good time to be Irish there, in any case. I decided to try New York."
"Second?"
"Oh, that one. That one, yes. An ocean of blood and pain, and I still wish for vengeance that will never come."
"And against…"
"The invisible wars are harder. Sometimes monsters are easy to see. Sometimes they have a fair face. And they aren't always monsters, all the time. I made my mistakes when I was young. Still have my moments."
She was looking at Marianne in a way that made her...not quite nervous.
"I'm not a mistake."
"Not in the slightest." She reached out, and for a minute Marianne thought she was going to touch her arm, and Marianne wanted her to.
She tapped the box of takeaway. "Eat up." Then she went to tend the laundry.
Her clothes came out fresh and warm. There was a tear in her shirt that continued on her jeans. She didn't remember it happening. Maybe when she fell off the roof. Her side and hip still ached from the hard landing.
She emerged, fingering the tear. "I think I need to invest in some combat fatigues or something. I'm running out of clothes."
"Can't have my hunting partner in a state of dishabille."
She fished around in her jeans and handed Marianne a hundred dollar bill.
In an instant, she was standing behind the counter at work. The image was so strong that she could smell old coffee, and feel a burning pain in her neck.
"Marianne?"
She shook her head. The image fuzzed over. Bobby's stupid hickey. "I'm hallucinating work, now." She held the bill in both hands. She could buy new underwear. A bra. She could even get a nice one from the fancy store at the mall. There'd be enough left over to buy a whole new wardrobe at the second hand. It wasn't money from work, so her mom wouldn't know to ask for it.
You're not going to cry again.
She didn't, but she hugged Ash, enjoying every second of the feel of her arms around her.
"Rest tonight. I'm going to get what we need."
"You'll do it? You'll kill them?"
"Promise. Hopefully, no one will go poking about."
"It was pretty isolated."
"Still, sooner begun."
Ash dropped her off at home. With an unexpectedly free night, she stuffed a sweatshirt in the crack under the door and curled up, book in hand. She could rest, but her sleep was full of things that she didn't want to see. If she turned off the light the corners of her room would fill with cocoons clogged with black bodies.
She woke up in time to get to the stores before they closed. Underwear was best bought in packs of five at the discount department store anchoring the mall. They were sturdy and comfortable and that's what she'd continued to buy when her mom stopped buying for her. She grabbed a couple of packages, and a box of the cheap, chocolate-covered cherries that were disgustingly sweet and deliciously awful.
Before she went into the lingerie shop she hid the discount bag deep in her backpack. It was too nice a store for cheap cotton.
Soft music played and the light was dim, hinting at romantic candlelight while still being bright enough to spot shoplifters. She wandered among the sparsely populated shelves and racks, fingers trailing over the silky things. The panties and bras were wispy, not sturdy: thongs and tiny low-riding ones that she thought would roll right down. Some were transparent, red and pink and green, some shimmery, some with lace.
The entire time she shopped she felt the eyes of the clerks on her. If she'd set out to dress as their opposite, she couldn't have done a better job. She looked down at her jeans. How could there be a dress code in this store? This wasn't Pretty Woman. But she was breaking one just the same.
One of the saleswomen casually started straightening panties on the table nearby. Marianne touched a gauzy blue set on a hanger.
"Can I help you?"
She jumped guiltily and had to remind herself that she wasn't doing anything wrong.
"I don't know my size."
The woman's eyes travelled up and down slowly, trying to decide how much time Marianne was worth.
"Birthday money, you know." She took down the tiny hanger and held the bra across her chest.
The clerk seemed to decide that a sale was possible, or at the very least that Marianne wasn't going to try to walk out with three sets of underwear under her clothes. She took her to the back and sized her, testing the band and cups with care before bringing her three styles to try. Alone in the pink-draped change room, she tried to get used to the difference in her shape. She touched a boob gingerly. They all sort of pushed them up, b,ut it didn't feel uncomfortable. Actually, it felt like she wasn't wearing much at all, but the sensation of it was nicer than any of Bobby's handling.
"How are you doing?"
She stopped touching herself. "It looks really pretty."
The clerk checked the size again, making sure there was no overflow. "You look lovely in it. Try with your shirt on, and see how it goes."
Bustily, it turned out. She checked from various angles, then reluctantly crawled back into the limp, dingy sports bra. The clerk was pleased to sell her a set in a pretty rosy gold colour and invited her back.
"Tell me how it goes with your boyfriend," she said, and winked saucily.
It hadn't occurred to her that Bobby would even see it, much less have an opinion. That seemed wrong. It was wrong that she hadn't missed him. She'd waited outside Ash's door, not his.
It made sense, though, right? Ash was her partner in the whatever-it-was that her life had become. Hunting buddies. She'd needed to know what had happened. What could Bobby do to help?
You're lying.
She went to Value Village for the rest of her shopping. It would have been cool to invite Charlene to the mall since she finally had money, but asking her to come to the second hand was impossible. She said once that everything there had a weird smell. Ever since then Marianne had made sure to wash whatever she bought a couple of times before she wore it around her.
She rooted through the racks, looking for clothes with some wear left in them, checking seams and hems, buttons and linings. There were a couple of pairs of jeans that looked nearly new, and still fashionable, and some rattier ones that she could wear when she and Ash hunted. She grabbed some T-shirts, too, not caring too much if there was a logo or print on the front as long as it was dark.
On the way to the dressing room, she saw a shirt dress. It was black and purple plaid, with a little white collar. She'd seen one like it on TV.
Where are you gonna wear something like that? Anyway, it would look stupid on.
She hesitated, then grabbed it. After trying the jeans and T-shirts she pulled it on, regarding herself in the chipped mirror. It was a little short, maybe. She tried to imagine how the top would look with the way the fancy bra changed her boobs. Maybe she could wear it on a date. To a movie or something.
It was still ten dollars, though. That was a lot of food.
She turned around, looking at herself under the humming florescent lights. It seemed fancy. She touched the collar.
A date with who?
She had enough time and quarters to run all of her new clothes through the wash at the laundromat. Her mom might know the smell like Charlene did. The shirt dress didn't shrink like she was afraid it would. In her room, she put it on with her new underwear and gave a self-conscious twirl, then rewrapped it all and hid it under her bed.
She wore new-to-her jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie when Ash picked her up, reluctantly leaving the nice underwear for another time. She was only hanging back to support Ash but didn't trust the wispy material for anything but a gentle stroll.
As they turned west her heart began to beat faster. Ash reached over and took her hand, squeezing gently.
"There won't be anything left of it."
Marianne nodded. "The stuff you got�
��"
"Stole."
She smiled. "I thought I was bad for swiping lipstick."
"Naughty girl." Ash didn't seem unduly upset. "It's in the trunk."
"I think you're supposed to have warning placards." Her voice was steadier maybe than she felt.
"Ha! Well, I'll be particularly careful."
"Precious car."
She saw Ash look at her as a street light flashed over them. "Precious things."
To her relief, Ash didn't take them too close to the nest. Not even as far as the gas station with the horses. She turned onto a short, dead-end road. There was a sharpish corner, then the headlights were making the trees look like they were dancing. Ash parked in the turnaround. Marianne waited inside, feeling the give of shocks as things were unloaded from the trunk. Ash's pale face appeared in the window. She rolled it down, pretending she hadn't jumped.
"Sorry. Just me. Can you drive a stick?"
"Yeah. Our car's a standard."
"If I'm not back by dawn, drive it back to my place. Money in the glove box if you need gas. House key's on the ring."
"You're not gonna…"
"I'll be back. If it takes longer than expected I'll find someplace to sleep through the sun. No point in you sitting out here all day."
"I can wait for you."
"Ma'll be worried without so much as a call."
Would she? They barely saw each other and there weren't any notes lately.
"We're partners."
"Don't be stubborn."
"I'll be if I have to."
"So you will." Ash smiled. "Watch out for yourself. Back before you know it." She hesitated. Marianne felt her hand ghost over her hair, then she left. Marianne leaned out of the window, catching only a blurry glimpse of her as she disappeared.
The night settled down around her. It was a little cold, but not too bad. Her new hoodie was enough to be comfortable. When the silence got to her, she climbed behind the wheel. It would be different than driving their old Tempo, she guessed. She tinkered with the seat in case they had to leave quickly. When she reached out the window to adjust the mirror it showed only a black and empty forest.
