*
Roasted chicken. Watermelon. Macaroni and cheese. I breathed deeply, the scent of the fresh blood he’d opened rushing into my nostrils.
“Time for a snack,” Drake said, placing a cup in my hand.
“I’d forgotten I was even hungry.” The blood danced over my taste buds, filling my veins, my body relaxing into the seat. “How long have we been driving? Are we there yet?” I gulped down the remainder of my cup and shoved it back towards Drake.
“Yep.”
The car slowed to a stop and heard Drake shift the car into park. He turned off the engine.
“Please don’t be mad at me.”
The blindfold was pulled away from my eyes.
I was home.
I scraped my jaw off the floor and stared at Drake, bewildered.
“What are we doing here?” I stuttered.
“We’re going to see your parents.” His blue eyes sparkled in the bright winter sun that spilled through the windows.
“Nononono.” I moaned and backed against the car door. I searched his face frantically. This was some kind of bad joke. The love in his eyes reached across the space, filling it. He grabbed both my hands.
“This isn’t going to work, Drake. This is such a bad idea. They’re going to freak out. We’ll be ripping their hearts out all over again.” Tears sprang out of my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. “I can’t do this.”
“You don’t have to at first. I’ve already talked to your dad on the phone. I’m supposed to go meet with him and your mom right now. I’m going to tell them the truth, but if for some reason they can’t take it, they don’t want to understand, I’ll make them forget. They’ll never even remember that we were here.”
I slumped down in my seat and gazed up at him through my veil of tears. He had parents who lived in blissful ignorance to what he’d become. His life was almost the same as it had always been. This was more painful than any wound anyone, Steve included, could give me.
“Please trust me, Vicky. You know I’m not doing this to hurt you. But if there is any chance, any chance at all that they could handle it, that you could be part of their lives again, isn’t it worth it just to try?” His eyes pleaded with me as much as his voice did.
I nodded silently and looked down at the floor, lost. I raised my head enough to stare at the house, my house. “Go,” I whispered.
He leaned across the chasm between us. “Just wait here. I’ll be back.” He pressed his lips to mine, a bittersweet kiss that mingled my salty tears with the lingering taste of the blood.
He swung the door open and kissed me once more before leaving me alone in the car. His long legs crossed the yard quickly and then he stood at the front door, pressing the bell. In my head I heard it tinkling through the house, just like I remembered.
My dad opened the door and welcomed Drake in. My dad. I caught just a glimpse of him before he shut the door. I sucked in a deep breath, realizing that I hadn’t taken one in awhile and shuddered. I needed to know what was going on inside. Without a second thought, I flung open the door and jumped out, shutting it quietly behind me.
Using my speed, I sprinted up to the front porch in a blur and crept towards the nearest front window that looked into my mom’s perfect living room. The nice room, as she referred to it. Although I always thought it was stiff and stuffy. Drake sat uncomfortably in one of the burgundy wing-backed chairs. My parents sat perched on the edge of the brightly flowered couch opposite him. The month since I’d died had aged them. Wisps of gray had appeared in Dad’s dark hair and Mom’s face was more faded and drawn than I’d remembered. I tuned out the outside sounds and tried to focus on what they were saying through the wall.
“What do you mean? What is all this?” my dad asked, his voice tinged with anger.
“What I mean is, what if I had some news about Vicky, even if it didn’t make sense, even if it didn’t seem possible, wouldn’t you want to know? It’s completely risk free. If you can’t handle it, I’ll make sure you forget.” Drake’s voice was kind and encouraging, trying to break through their obvious resistance.
“I don’t understand.” I could barely hear my mom; she must have been whispering. “What do you mean you have news of her?”
“What else is there to know? She’s dead.” My dad patted my mom’s hand as she dissolved into sobs. “I’m sorry to say it like that dear, but it’s true.”
“With all due respect sir, no, it’s not. She didn’t die that day. There was an event that none of us would have known about or understood before. I know I didn’t. But she didn’t die. Someone did something to her, changed her, but she is alive.”
My parents stared at him in a stunned silence.
“She’s here with me.”
Drake got up from his chair and moved towards the door. I was there to meet him. He smiled at me encouragingly as he opened the door and let me back into my house, my home. The tidy living room came into view and the smell of Mom’s favorite apple candles came rushing back. My knees went weak.
In this moment, nothing had changed. I was home and my parents were just feet away. Drake slid his arm around my waist and led me into my living room. My parents sat, silent as the grave, their wide eyes followed me into the room, reflecting a mixture of surprise and horror.
Dad blinked his eyes a few times and Mom let out a barely audible squeal. They sat frozen on the couch, either unable or unwilling to move. I reached towards my parents, my hand shaking like an earthquake.
Words hung from my lips, but failed me completely.
Dad’s hand shot out and grabbed mine tightly. His eyes met mine, the same warm, friendly eyes I’d known since birth, now damp with tears. He rose to his feet and pulled me into his strong, warm arms, squeezing me tightly. A new scent reached my nostrils. Peanuts. Bacon cheeseburgers. Ham sandwiches. My dad.
“Welcome home, baby.”
Coming in April, 2014, follow Vicky Hernandez and her friends in the long-awaited sequel of Bloody Little Secrets.
NEW BLOOD
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Enjoy this free sample of Karly Kirkpatrick’s Into the Shadows, book 1 of the Into the Shadows Trilogy.
Bloody Little Secrets Page 41