Michael’s tastes were less flashy than his, which Connor would have found boring if the design itself wasn’t so interesting. Printing a fairly realistic looking foot had been fun, and the rest was all in silver and bronze colors. The joint for Michael’s knee had been the tricky part, and still required tweaks now and again, but it hadn’t slowed him down on the field, even when he ran the ball.
Connor noticed quickly that the balance was all off, causing the joint to wear more heavily where it connected. “How long has it been like this?” he asked as he took his tool kit out of his backpack. He always had the tools with him in case he needed to tinker with something on himself, but it had been used far more often to help Michael.
“I don’t know, a week or two?”
“Dude! You know you have to come to me with these issues right away. You can mess up your skin, the leg itself, strain other muscles—”
“I know, geez.”
“Then why do you torment me, Fergus? You’re lucky I always find out about these things before your parents or your doctor.” Connor shifted Michael’s plastic foot to rest more comfortably on his thigh as he set to work on the joint. “Now pay attention to what I’m doing so you can do this sort of thing yourself occasionally. I will gladly make you legs into old age, man, at a discount, every time, but you’d save us both a lot of trouble if you could just upkeep better.”
They had done this so many times, there was no anxiety over the intimate position, not like it would have been if Connor was doing something like this for Emery. On his knees with Michael’s prosthetic foot in his lap was like being a mechanic under a car. Michael snorted in only mild affront whenever Connor mentioned that out loud.
Not that Michael wasn’t good looking. His blond hair was only slightly longer and lighter than Connor’s own, his blue-green eyes deep-set and focused, a quirk to his almost always smiling lips. So many people would be jealous of Connor’s current position if they caught them—and a few people had in the past, which was why they tried to find a discreet corner of the locker room—especially since Michael was single at the moment. Connor had actually enjoyed most of the sharp looks he got from people walking in on them, and Michael did make a pretty backdrop while he worked.
“So…I heard Mavus and Liz broke up.”
Connor tensed, nearly dropping his screwdriver. “Yeah…?”
“You gonna do something about it?”
The screwdriver clattered to the floor. Connor waved it threateningly in Michael’s face once he snatched it up again. “Stop distracting me!”
Michael held up his hands. “Just saying. I mean, how has no one asked you out before? Or do you turn everyone down, waiting for Mavus to catch wise?”
Connor gauged Michael’s smirking face and the casual way he sat back on his hands, wiggling his leg for Connor to continue.
“You better not be hitting on me,” Connor grumbled as he got back to work. “You’re enough of a chore as it is.”
Michael laughed. “Seriously, everyone—and I mean everyone—knows you have a hard-on for Mavus except Mavus. Probably because he’s the only one who can’t see how you look at him when he’s not paying attention.”
“I think it might be considered a superpower if he could.”
Michael wiggled his leg again.
“Stop that!”
“Prom is like a month away, Connor, and as Prom King—”
“You know we haven’t actually voted yet, right?”
“—it is my duty to make sure everyone goes. No senior is missing out just because they don’t have a date. Go as friends if you’re too chicken, but I expect you and Mavus to be there.”
Connor remained silent the next few minutes while he finished up with his tweaks to Michael’s leg. When he was done, he looked up to find blue-green eyes staring at him intensely, the smirk gone. Connor assumed it was Michael’s Student Council President side that made him so charmingly intimidating, not the quarterback part, though the combination was highly unfair.
“Why does everyone care so much about my love life?” Connor asked the air more than Michael directly as he stood and offered a hand to his friend. Michael tried out his leg with a few steps, a jump or two, an extra wiggle, and looked satisfied. He started to pull on his jeans.
“Our own lives are tragic enough, Connor—we’re teenagers. Personally, I don’t enjoy watching the suffering of others.”
“Pity,” Connor scoffed. “Everyone’s trying to play match-maker for me out of pity.”
“Nah, I just owe Mavus one for quitting football. He’d steal all my thunder if he was still on the team. He deserves you.” Michael winked as he finished doing up his jeans and patted Connor on the shoulder. “Thanks, gimp, you’re the best.”
Connor wasn’t sure if he should be amused or annoyed. “We’ve discussed that your loving pet name for me has more than one meaning, right?”
“Why do you think I keep using it?” Michael winked again. How he did that without looking cheesy, Connor would never know.
They left the locker room to the sound of the late bell—or rather, sequence of beeps. Connor could still make it to Jazz Band, and probably wouldn’t get into too much trouble for being tardy.
“Consider my advice, will ya? One way or another, I expect you both at Prom,” Michael said as they parted. “Thanks again, gimp!”
“Later, cripple!” Connor called back.
A freshman at a nearby table in the lunch room shot them a glare until she realized who the two seniors were. Connor made a point to wave at her with his left hand.
~
“I can’t believe you aced that Psych test,” Connor said.
“I can’t either.”
I really couldn’t. I’d studied, but I’d been more distracted during this one than for any other test I can remember, even one I had right after Liz and I broke up. It helped that the Milgram experiment on obedience to authority was disturbingly interesting. People will—and often do—willingly go against their personal beliefs and morality as long as someone who is perceived to be in power tells them to do so. Creepy.
We crossed the parking lot toward Connor’s Thunderbird so we could head to the middle school for play practice. The test was a minor win, all things considered, but after learning so much from Alec last night, it really pushed me over the edge with feeling better about things. Maybe I wasn’t doomed. Living a normal life despite being a creature of the night might actually be possible.
Alec still made me feel…awkward, I guess was the right word. Maybe because I didn’t know him well enough yet. He was nice, and not as scary as I’d first thought, and while his teaching methods were unconventional, for the most part they were direct. He genuinely wanted to help.
Well, he mostly wanted to find the hunters to avenge Mr. and Mrs. Leonard, but that protected me from them too. Although we hadn’t actually discussed what he planned to do once he found them. I had a nauseated feeling he didn’t mean to just turn them over to Tim and the police.
Connor was rambling on about other disturbing psychological experiments that in no way would be legal if conducted today, and I got a little lost in the words, just listening to the sound of his voice—sharp, and quick, and even toned. It was so much easier to tune out everything around us and focus only on him with my new senses, the same way I could look at him and notice the pale freckles along his cheek bones, or focus on the smell of mint and cedar that lingered around him.
I’d been trying to do similar things with others whenever I had a spare moment, singling out one person and focusing on what my heightened senses could pick up about them, but it was easier with Connor, even listening to the most ambient sounds. The sort of halting skip of his walk, the faint creak of plastic as his prosthetic fingers curled around the strap of his backpack, the way his heartbeat tripped a
nd beat faster when he caught me staring…
I frowned as he darted his eyes away. Was he scared of me? He was trying so hard to hide it, but I’d noticed several other telling signs ever since I’d bitten him. I’d hoped I was misreading things—he certainly kept insisting he wasn’t afraid—but after learning I’d need to feed from him regularly, maybe it was starting to get to him.
I opened my mouth to say something, not exactly sure how I wanted to ask if my best friend was really okay with me drinking his blood once a week, when static in the air—as if something just wasn’t right—made me stumble.
Someone was watching us. I scanned our surroundings but saw no sign of anyone darting out of sight this time.
“What’s wrong?” Connor asked.
“Someone’s here…”
He came around to stand in front of me. We were nearly at the car. There were other students all around us getting ready to leave for the day. “It might be the cop Tim assigned you. I mean, obviously Alec knows how to get around the guy, and maybe the hunters do too, so he’s probably useless, but it could be him. Or maybe just Alec himself checking up between leads.”
I started to nod but shook my head instead. “If it was Alec, why would he hide? Maybe he wasn’t the one watching me the other day. I never actually asked him. Why didn’t I ask him?” I grit my teeth and tried to be nonchalant as I made another pass around the parking lot.
“Calm down, Em, you don’t know it’s not—”
“But I do know. I know what Alec feels like. Now that I’ve met him, I have this sense of him, and whoever I just felt…” The feeling started to subside, but I had this awful gnawing twist in my gut. “Let’s get in the car.”
Once we were safely inside and Connor started to pull out of the parking lot, I considered calling Alec, but what could I tell him other than that he might already be too late?
I looked at Connor, and his eyes darted to meet mine, just as panicked as I felt. “I think the hunters know who I am.”
Chapter 11
Connor
Connor mourned the loss of his brief reprieve with Emery, who had been back to his old, jovial self. His assurance that someone—likely one of the hunters—had been watching them in the parking lot had sent his upward swing swooping back the other direction.
Emery was off all throughout play practice. Forgetting lines, missing cues, distant and flat with his delivery. By the time Mark called it a night and gave notes for everyone to review before the next night’s practice, Emery’s face was ashen and he only gave one word replies or grunts to Connor’s inquiries.
The steering wheel felt cold under Connor’s flesh and blood fingers, the air colder tonight too, the sun long set as they headed home. He found himself tapping both flesh and plastic fingers at every stop light, anxious and unsure what he could say to sooth his friend. “It’ll be okay,” could never be the right words, not with this, not when he couldn’t say that with any truth behind it. They were dealing in monsters and fairytales now.
They were just passing the park, barely any other cars on the road in their small town in this particular neighborhood at night, when Connor decided the silence was going to choke him.
“Em…”
“Stop the car.” The order was abrupt, Emery’s voice far lower than usual.
“What? Why?” Connor asked, even as he did as he was told.
“Call Alec.”
But before Connor could fully turn toward his friend to ask what he meant, the passenger door hung open as Emery dashed from the vehicle and across the street into the trees.
Connor dived for Emery’s cell phone left on the vacated seat, somehow managing to kill the engine and start to dial Alec’s number at the same time. Emery hadn’t said anything about Connor waiting in the car. Even if he had, Connor wouldn’t have listened. He darted into the trees after Emery with the phone at his ear as it rang.
Connor hated this part of the park. All trees, more like woods than the edges of a proper park, with barely any trails, so if you weren’t careful, you could end up right in the lake. If Emery had seen someone watching them from the trees, why the hell had he decided to follow?
As Connor stumbled a few yards more into the dark park, the other line finally picked up.
“Emery?”
“It’s me!” Connor said, not thinking to state his name for the elder vampire. “Em just bolted from my car into the park after someone. It’s on the edge of town near the lake, between the middle and high school. Do you know—?”
“I’ll be right there.” He hung up.
Connor growled in frustration, sorely tempted to hurl Emery’s phone into the trees…when he nearly ran into his friend’s back. “Em! What the—?” but he didn’t get to finish.
Emery wasn’t alone. He stood on guard, monument still, across from a woman in black. She didn’t appear to be armed, but her leather jacket could easily be hiding a gun, or a blade, or a…stake.
“I saw her watching us from the trees. She waved me in,” Emery said, eyes trained forward.
“And you thought it would be a good idea to have a chit chat?” Connor hissed. He pressed Emery’s cell phone into his friend’s palm, trying to keep it hidden so the woman wouldn’t see it and expect the backup that was coming.
She had an edge and strength about her that Connor found gorgeous, like she could kill you with a look. She wore no makeup except a touch of black eyeliner, with dark skin from seemingly Indian heritage, and long wavy brunette hair hanging past her shoulders. She stood about eye to eye with both of them in her combat boots.
“I figured someone who wanted to kill me wouldn’t try to get my attention,” Emery said.
“I have no intention of killing you, Emery.” The woman had a raspy, jazz singer voice with a much more proper English accent than the amalgamation Alec used. She brought her hands up slowly, presumably to reiterate the unarmed point, but her gloved hands unnerved Connor. “Or you, Mr. Daniels,” she shifted her sharp gaze to him. “Unless, of course, either of you is feeling particularly homicidal.”
Connor cringed at being called ‘Mr. Daniels’. How come Emery got first name treatment? “It’s Connor,” he said, “and we’re not the ones committing homicide around here. From what we can tell it was you and your hunter buddies who offed the Leonards. You really that much of a stereotype, Buffy,” he challenged her, since he was still partially hidden behind his vampire best friend, “going around killing people for being different even when they didn’t do anything wrong?”
“‘Fraid not, love,” she said, as she lowered her arms with a faint smile. “Hunters aren’t like that at all actually.”
“Oh.” Connor had been so sure he had this pegged. He glanced at Emery, but his friend was keeping his eyes on her, tense and alert like an animal poised to attack.
“You were the one watching me at the school,” he said.
“I was. But don’t fool yourself into thinking I’m the only one. The actual killers of your sire and his wife are still in town, looking for you. You’re lucky I found you first. For now, I can’t find any evidence to suggest you’ve done anything wrong. Even if the Leonards had, you’d be exempt from any punishment they earned. The problem is, I can’t find any evidence that they did anything either. So it begs the question…why are my contemporaries here, and why did they kill two seemingly innocent prey, and are at this very moment hunting you?”
“So glad to see we’re on the same page with that,” Alec’s voice interjected as the vampire stepped out of the trees on the woman’s right. He seemed unhurried, despite having managed to find them in barely a minute’s time from wherever he had been when Connor called.
The woman, to her credit, straightened but didn’t flinch. She looked aside at Alec slowly then back at Emery, perhaps wondering if she’d been the one
led into a trap. When her eyes went back to Alec, they widened as if she recognized him.
“And who are you?” Alec asked. He smiled his wide grin, wearing similar dark jeans as before and his black jacket, but in a different T-shirt with a picture of DC’s Constantine. The guy did have good taste.
“Wendy,” she said. She didn’t seem glamoured, merely offered her name willingly.
Connor snorted. English accent. Wendy. There had to be an opportune moment to mention green tights…
“And you’re Alec, aren’t you?” she said, following his path with her eyes as he moved to stand next to Emery.
“Always a pleasure to meet a fan.” Alec brightened in that creepy, excitable way of his. “Well then, darling, do share with the class what you’ve discovered if we’re going to be doing show and tell tonight. I’m on a bit of a tight schedule.” He tapped his wrist that definitely did not bear a watch.
“You know her?” Connor couldn’t help asking, because that would have been useful information.
“I know of her.”
“Just like she knows of you?” Emery said, finally turning his gaze away from her to look at Alec. At last, Connor saw Emery’s shoulders relax now that some experienced muscle had arrived to back them up.
Wendy certainly looked well-muscled, curvy and solid and dark—like Emery. No wonder Connor thought she was sexy.
“I’m well known.” Alec leaned into Emery with his answer that wasn’t an answer.
Had they really come to terms with this guy before? Because Connor sort of wanted to punch him half the time.
“I’ve been investigating for a few days,” Wendy said, keeping the distance between them. “In the spirit of transparency, I’ll admit that I was nearby when the Leonards were killed, tracking another vampire. At least…I believe it to be another vampire. When Mallory Leonard was killed, I thought perhaps I was mistaken and that she was the culprit, and another hunter had beat me to the punch. But nothing seems to be adding up. Before I could gather any evidence against her, or William, he was dead and there was…you, Emery,” she looked to him steadily, “coming out of that house unscathed.
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