No One Will Believe You

by Robert J. Crane

  I stacked the books beside the lounge chair and slathered sunscreen over my skin. With my complexion, I’d need to re-slather myself every half hour to keep from ending up red as a lobster, even with the relatively short hours of daylight.

  Sunburned was better than dead, however.

  I leaned back, basking in the sun, and finally started to relax …

  Then I woke with a jolt. My legs were warm, and my stomach, on one side … but half of me was cold. The sun! It had crept across the sky, rising toward midday. What came through the screen now had long passed me by.

  In a panic, I shuffled the chair into the new patch of sunlight. Then I settled back in, and checked my clock.

  Two hours had gone by.

  I kicked myself. Stupid. Yes, I’d missed two full nights of sleep, but that was no excuse when there was a vampire obsessed with me.

  I scowled. Wherever he was, he probably relished how tortured I was right now.

  How much had my life changed in the last forty-eight hours? Definitely more than it ever had in such a short time. Even leaving New York to move to Florida seemed perfectly normal compared to being stalked by a vampire.

  Seriously, what about me was so special? I knew girls who were way prettier than me, more athletic than me, smarter than me. Why in all the world had he decided to hunt me? I began a sweep of the backyard—the sweep I should’ve been doing for hours.

  Nothing. Either Byron wasn’t out there … or he’d found a place to hide where he was perfectly camouflaged.

  I couldn’t live the rest of my life like this, especially since I had no idea how long that might be. I didn’t want to feel like a bunny trapped in a cage.

  The same thought that had haunted me last night passed through my mind: there had to be something that I could do.

  If I knew some weaknesses, had some real facts, then maybe I would have a chance.

  Who was I kidding? I lay back on the lounger and pressed my hands to either side of my head.

  I couldn’t give up, not yet. Not until I had exhausted every option. I honestly had no idea what those options were, but I had to try and find a way to protect myself. Whittling wooden stakes and hoping they’d kill him was just a starting point, and not even a particularly good one. After my parents had left, a cursory look around the house showed that it wasn’t exactly brimming with potential stakes—unless I wanted to chop a leg off the sofa in the living room, which probably wouldn’t improve my parents’ mood. Leaving was right out: Mom would get the alert that the front door opened and see me on the camera. Same with opening the lanai door—hell, she’d almost certainly already seen me come out here. Checking my phone more or less confirmed it: two text messages from her “reminding” me about the list of chores I needed to get done today.

  I wondered if taking a martial arts class would prove helpful. Maybe learn how to shoot a gun? I came from a town where most families I knew hunted. I could probably call one of them for help.

  But I hadn’t talked to anyone from back in New York since I’d gotten here. Leaving hadn’t exactly been my first choice, but I couldn’t deny my parents’ timing worked for me. I’d burned just about all my bridges on the way out of town. No one back there was any more likely to listen to me than my parents were.

  I didn’t think any of those things could really help, because as soon as he got close enough to me, I would be completely helpless. He was so fast, and so strong. I doubted trying to shoot him would do much good.

  Not to mention the fact that I’d never held a gun in my life.

  So this was what hitting the bottom felt like—utter desperation for an answer that I wasn’t sure would ever come; terror so strong that I had gone nights without sleep.

  Was this what my life had been reduced to?

  I heard my phone buzz—a text from Xandra. Hey, you doing okay? it read.

  It was like a lifeline, sent out to help keep me from drowning. I hastily started to text her back, wondering how in the world I could fit everything that had happened the night before into a text message.

  But a text was a bad idea. No, I needed to actually speak with her. I pressed the call button without hesitating even a second. No way I was keeping this in anymore.

  And more to the point … I couldn’t do this alone.

  Chapter 12

  The phone rang and rang—and each time the tone played, my anxiety spiked.

  “Hey, you reached Xandra—”

  Beep. Cold disappointment settled in my stomach like someone had poured pool water down my throat.

  I sighed and glared at the screen. She had literally just texted me. What was so important that she’d more or less instantly abandoned her phone?

  I did a quick look around the yard. Still empty. Quickly, I tapped in a reply.

  Hey, can you call me? We really need to talk. That was good. Urgent. No way she could misunderstand what I was trying to tell her.

  My stomach growled angrily, and I put a hand over it.

  “All right, fine, I’ll feed you.”

  I pulled a granola bar, a Coke and an apple from the cooler. Everything was slick with condensation, but they were cold, and something as simple as food I liked was comforting.

  I nearly inhaled the granola bar. The apple, I forced myself to eat more slowly. The Coke tasted good, and my body thanked me profusely for the caffeine. I checked my phone continually.

  After ten minutes without a reply, I texted Xandra again.

  Xandra, I’m serious. I really need to talk to you. My desperation level was mounting. I wished I could escape my own head, just for a few minutes.

  Maybe there was something on Netflix that would distract me …

  My phone buzzed, and I nearly dropped it in my haste to read it as fast as I could.

  Can’t talk now. Call you later.

  I groaned. What in the world could Xandra be doing right now that was more important than this?

  He showed up at my house last night. Surely that message would change her tune.

  But:

  Can’t talk now. Call you later.

  It must be one of those automated response texts. I felt my anger surge—and then a wave of fear swept in to replace it.

  No Xandra to help; neither of my parents to keep me company.

  All I could do was keep my butt parked, following the sunlight, and hope to distract myself from the way the world had gone terribly, terribly wrong. Eyes closed, I forced myself to focus on nothing but breathing.

  In and out.

  In and out.

  In and …

  It was dark. Totally dark. I blinked, hoping that it would go away—but still the darkness did not leave me. The scent of the pool’s chlorine had vanished, as had all the faint noises filtering to me moments ago: the distant hum of a passing engine; twittering birds, tunefully singing, their worlds the same as they always had been. Even my own body seemed to have vanished. All I was aware of was the darkness pressing in all around me.

  Then there was a loud bang, a sound of a heavy, industrial-sized switch being pulled, and a bright, narrow light shone to life.

  It was almost blinding and standing bathed in it was a silhouette.

  Byron’s head was down, his eyes fixated on an old, yellowing tome he held in both hands like a man singing in a choir. He wore a sharp black suit, a crisp white shirt, and a dark red tie.

  “These violent delights have violent ends

  And in their triumph die, like fire and powder

  Which, as they kiss, consume.”

  And then it was suddenly dark once more.

  I stared in what I assumed was the direction of where the light had just been.

  Another light switched on, to my left.

  There he stood again, still holding the same old tome, still not looking up at me.

  “My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

  My love as deep; the more I give to thee,

  The more I have, for both are infinite.”

  And o
nce more, I was plunged into darkness.

  The light reappeared, this time from behind me. I whirled around, and saw Byron standing there once more, drenched in light. There was something red smeared on his cheek.

  “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose

  By any other name would smell as sweet.”

  I recognized those words. They played in my mind again as the light went out again like an old forgotten melody.

  As if I was ready, I turned to face the light once more as it blared to life.

  “For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”

  And then he slammed the book shut as he looked up at me, a wide, taunting smile on his face, a trickle of blood dripping from the corner of his lips.

  I sat bolt upright on my lounger, the infinite darkness replaced with the sunny day, the sight of the pool. I spilled my can of Coke as I sat up, the hiss of carbonation on the concrete like an animal in my ear.

  My heart was beating so fast it hurt, and I clutched my hand over my chest.

  I looked all around, getting to my feet, wrapping my towel around myself.

  Where was he? Where did he go?

  I could have sworn that he was right there, standing right in front of me.

  And then I realized that I was in my backyard, in a swimsuit, in the bright sunshine.

  I looked all over the lanai, and then out farther in the yard, just to make sure that he wasn’t anywhere near.

  There was nothing there.

  Or, more accurately … no one.

  I was still shaking as I went back to the Coke can to clean up the spill. I grabbed some of the napkins I had brought out with me and started to mop it up. The white paper turned brown, soaking up the sugary liquid, and something about the way it spread brought to mind the image of blood soaking into gauze.

  I turned away, not wanting to look at the cleanup. Somehow, my phone had fallen underneath the lounger, and I saw it in the corner of my eye. I immediately abandoned the Coke. The inevitable ant problem would have to just chill for a second.

  Xandra had not texted or called me back while I was asleep, but my mom sure had.

  Cassie, please don’t forget to take care of those clothes in the washer. I don’t want them to get full of mildew.

  Ten minutes later, she had sent another one.

  And if you can, can you please pull out a bag of chicken from the freezer for tomorrow?

  At least she had said “please” Another text had come through a half hour after that.

  You remembered to keep those pants out of the dryer, right? Without a reply, she’d sent another message just a few minutes later.

  Cassandra, are you getting these texts?

  And again:

  If you don’t answer me, I am coming home to make sure that you are there! And if I do, you better have all of the things on the list done!

  Well, that was just wonderful.

  It was almost noon, and I chewed my bottom lip. She would be taking her lunch break soon. I needed to call her.

  I absently looked around, trying to find inspiration for how I was going to explain why I hadn’t answered her texts. And also how I was going to convince her that she didn’t have to come home so I could actually do the chores she wanted me to do.

  I considered telling her I had been in the pool, which wasn’t a complete lie. I was definitely at least by it.

  I sighed and shifted my gaze to the backyard, to the palm trees, to the fresh air, and when I did, I saw—something moved.

  I looked in the direction of the movement.

  The thick, horizontal blinds in the window of the house beside ours were rattling together as if stirred by the wind …

  Or as if someone had just been watching me.

  Chapter 13

  I slammed the door shut behind me and pulled the blinds over the door. Normally I would have hated to shut that beautiful daylight out, but I went around to every single one of the drapes and shades until the entire first floor was darkened.

  If Byron was using the windows to see inside, he definitely wouldn’t be able to now.

  At least that was what I kept telling myself. It had to be him, didn’t it? It explained everything if he or one of his thralls, or lackeys or whatever you called humans in service of a vampire—if one of them lived behind me and was watching constantly. The Byron issue temporarily sidelined, I now had to deal with my mother before she decided to fly off of the handle and come home.

  I called her as I ran to the washing machine, and when she answered, I hurriedly explained to her that of course I had remembered to take her pants out of the washer and I had already taken the chicken out for her before she had even texted me.

  As she grumbled about how she was surprised I had actually been working, I pulled those pants from the dryer and hung them up, trying not to roll my eyes.

  “So how’s work?” I asked, trying to sound casual. Talking to her, though potentially stressful, was at least distracting me from Byron’s spying. And if something happened to me while I was on the phone with her, she would hear it and be able to call the cops … for whatever good that’d do.

  “Fine,” she replied. “You know, I was thinking about coming home for lunch anyways—”

  “No!” I said, probably too quickly. I berated myself for it in my mind. “No,” I said, more gently. “Seriously, I have everything under control. Why don’t you go out for lunch? Get some Starbucks, maybe go down to the Bay and enjoy the sunshine.”

  Her silence told me that she was actually considering it.

  “You know,” she said finally, “that’s not a bad idea. Are you sure that you’re okay, being home all alone?”

  I hesitated, but then laughed. It was hollow, but I hoped that she didn’t hear that over the phone. “Yeah, definitely. I have tons of homework to do anyways. I wouldn’t be very good company.” That was true. Who could focus on whatever silly little conversation she wanted to have when I had a vampire declaring his true love and intent to drink my blood?

  I heard her laugh, just a little. “Well, all right. Hey, how about you and I do some shopping tomorrow? Get out of the house for a little while?”

  I was so shocked by her proposition that I froze, my hands halfway into the freezer to grab the chicken I had promised I had taken out already.

  “I know that all of this has been hard on you,” she continued. “It’s been hard for all of us. But let’s try to have a fresh start, okay? No more lies, Cass. Not many people have the chance to remake themselves like this.”

  Where was all of this coming from?

  “Sure, Mom,” I replied, and I probably sounded pretty heartless. I just … didn’t know what to say. “I’ll try,” I added, and I hoped I sounded more sincere.

  “Good,” she said, but I recognized the hurt tone in her voice. How could I communicate with her that I did want to try and stop lying? How would I ever get her to believe me, especially over the phone like this?

  “Shopping would be fun,” I added. And I was definitely telling the truth a little; shopping would put me out in public, and outside in the sunlight, especially if we went to the outlets where Mom loved to go. There would be tons of people around.

  I’d be safe from Byron.

  “Let’s plan on it,” Mom replied, though it sounded like I had taken the wind out of her sails. “If you need anything, just shoot me a text, okay?”

  “All right.”

  “I love you,” she said, and it sounded like she meant it this time.

  “Love you too,” I said, and we both hung up.

  I exhaled, leaning against the door frame of the kitchen.

  I glanced around the living room, the sunlight trying to peek in around the edges of all of the blinds. I needed the sunlight to keep the vampire at bay. But if I left the blinds open, he’d have someone watching—if he wasn’t doing it himself.

  My head spun. I felt like I’d gone for a swim in the deep end of the pool and suddenly fo
und myself unable to paddle.

  I wasn’t sure that there was anything I could do to keep Byron out anymore. I wondered if it was just totally useless to even try.

  I dragged myself to a bar stool at the kitchen island and slumped into it.

  Setting the phone down, I rapped my fingers on the granite.

  Xandra still hadn’t called me, I hadn’t finished my chores, and I was so tired that I could barely see straight.

  And then the nightmare … It had been so strange—Byron spouting weird lines of poetry.

  No, not weird poetry. I knew it.

  It definitely helped that he’d said that line about Romeo and Juliet.

  First Hamlet, now Romeo and Juliet.

  Could vampires influence dreams? No. That was crazy, right?

  I couldn’t waste my energy trying to deduce what powers Byron had. I didn’t need to make him more invincible in my mind than he already was.

  It must have been because of his amateur performance the night before outside of my window. It just brought back memories from when I took part in my old school’s production of Romeo and Juliet. That had only been a year before; of course I would still remember the lines. I had been working backstage and had heard the actors recite their lines until I could practically say the entire thing in my sleep.

  I needed some real sleep, longer than an hour or two at a time.

  It made me second guess whether or not I had actually fallen asleep at all, and if I had actually seen those blinds move in the house next door.

  I pressed my palms to my temples and tried to push all of the difficult thoughts out. Not like it would actually help, letting my brain run around in circles.

  So he was so obsessed with me that he was resorting to breaking into other people’s houses in order to spy on me from their windows? I had heard the horror stories about stalkers, but this was unlike anything I could have imagined. It didn’t help that he had supernatural powers.

  He’d chased me, he knew things about me, had declared his love, declared his … bizarre desires. Drinking my blood? When did that get fun?