by Bree Wolf
The rest of the day Quinn spent in her room, planning. She kept herself busy because she knew that as soon as she stopped, there would be a voice telling her that she was insane. Not because it would be dangerous, which it definitely would be, but because there was a part of her that still didn’t believe. And she had to keep her wits about her. She decided to act as soon as possible, now still fueled by Amanda’s tragic death. She felt the adrenaline course through her veins and knew that once it dissipated, she would not be able to work up the nerve to even attempt something like this.
Quinn quickly discarded the idea of trying to trick Arnaud out of the house and let the sun finish him off. She knew he would not fall for that, no matter what she might come up with. Cutting off his head also went down the drain, and not only because the mere thought of it made her stomach heave. So then the only thing that remained was a stake to the heart.
Crossing the back yard, Quinn rummaged through her father’s tool shed for only a matter of minutes before she held in her hand what she’d been looking for. A wooden stake. Her father used them to define the boundaries of his flower beds. For once his annoying obsession with green stuff came in handy. Holding the stake in her hand, Quinn realized that she couldn’t simply go over to Arnaud’s house, knock on the door and plunge it into his heart. She had to have an excuse. Something that wouldn’t make her seem suspicious. She raked her head for what seemed like hours. It was almost as though a part of her mind was working against her. But when the sun finally set, she had an idea that would benefit her twice. As the perfect excuse she would take some of her mother’s baking over to Arnaud’s house. It would seem perfectly normal and he would think nothing of it. To make everything seem natural, she would just have to seem very annoyed with her mother for being sent to his house again.
As a bonus she decided to bake her mother’s herbal bread. It was delicious when fresh out of the oven, especially with a butter topping. But instead of just putting in the herbs from her mother’s recipe, Quinn would also add garlic, hoping that it would repel Arnaud, maybe even weaken him. Who knew if garlic really worked or was just a myth, but it was worth a try. She just needed him distracted to make her move. For a second she wondered if he even ate but then remembered the night he had come over for dinner. He had eaten normal food.
Keeping herself busy, she refused to think about the possibility of it going horribly wrong. If he suspected anything or saw her coming, he would surely kill her before she could make any move whatsoever. However, the thought that that seemed to be the more likely outcome got pushed all the way back into a dark corner of her mind and locked away. It would serve no purpose and just increase the probability of her getting killed for real.
Quinn decided that the next day, Sunday, would be the day and went to bed early, hoping to get a good night’s sleep. But sleep wouldn’t come. Instead came doubt and fear. After tossing and turning past midnight, Quinn finally got up, remembering the sleeping pills Dr. Barker had given her after the accident. Taking two, she went back to bed and fell asleep, not waking before the sun had climbed high in the sky.
Her plan fresh in mind, she rushed downstairs and started working on her mother’s herbal bread. Since Quinn never baked or cooked, she got a few weird looks from her family, along with a couple of What are you doing? as well as uncomprehending nods when she told them she just felt like it. Dealing with the exceptional situation of a friend’s death, her family had no problem with her acting a little weird though. Her parents even seemed to be glad that she didn’t hide in her room.
After finishing in the kitchen, she put on a pair of jeans, a shirt and tennis shoes. She needed to be able to move, and so her regular, more tight-fitting outfits wouldn’t do. Gathering her hair in a pony tail, she collected her things. The stake disappeared in her baggy purse, while she carried the bread in a plastic container that she placed on the passenger seat. A little reluctantly she had asked her father to bring back the jeep last night.
When she left the house, no one asked where she was heading. They probably assumed she’d be at Julia’s house. And so she pulled out of the driveway without hitting a bump in the road. Only when she found herself on De La Roche Avenue did little feelings of doubt raise goosebumps on her skin, despite the boiling heat once again suffocating Crescent Rock.
Chapter 14 – The Heart of the Matter
Once again parking her car in the shade by the grove of sycamores, Quinn felt her hands shake as she grabbed her purse and felt for the stake for reassurance. She took a deep breath and headed for the door. The purse flung over her right shoulder hung down low enough that, if need be, she would be able to reach inside with her right hand.
After only the first slightly tentative knock, the door already opened, revealing Arnaud. He stood in the shady foyer with a look of mild surprise on his face. “I admit I wouldn’t have expected to see you any time soon.”
“Believe me, I’m not here voluntarily,” she said, surprised herself at how even her voice sounded. Lifting the container with the bread, she asked, “Can I come in or do you have something to hide?”
His eyes widened and he eyed her more closely. Then he stepped aside and let her in.
As the door closed behind her, Quinn felt a shiver run over her. She quickly shook it off, putting an annoyed expression back on her face.
“So, what can I do for you?” Arnaud asked, leading the way to the sitting room. “I assume you’re here on your mother’s bidding.”
Taking a seat, Quinn held out the container to him. “You assume right. She asked me to bring you this. I guess she’s still not done thanking you.”
A grin spread over his face as he took the container. “Your mother is a lovely lady,” he said, opening it and inhaling deeply. “And one hell of a cook.”
“That she is,” Quinn confirmed, trying with all her strength to appear inconspicuous when all she wanted was to run for the door and the safety of the sunlight.
Seeing Arnaud close the lid and place the container on one of the side tables, Quinn said, “Eh, I am to report back regarding whether or not the bread was to your liking.”
He smiled at her words. “You want me to eat it? Now?”
Her heart started beating faster, but she nodded calmly. “Well, it is about lunch time and I don’t really want to hang out here until dinner. So?”
Arnaud shrugged. “As you wish,” he said. “Let me just go get a knife from the kitchen. Care for a slice too?”
“Sure,” she nodded. A moment later he was gone and Quinn’s mask fell from her face. She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to steady her nerves. Again she felt for the stake in her purse.
Suddenly back in the room as though appearing out of nowhere, Arnaud startled her. He looked smug about it, and she was sure he did it on purpose, to unsettle her.
Cutting off two slices, he handed her a plate and took a seat in the armchair opposite her. “Well then, bon appetit,” he said, his French accent thickening his voice.
“Same to you,” she just mumbled, eyeing him carefully as he broke off a piece and put it in his mouth.
“This is delicious,” he said, chewing. “But I shouldn’t have expected any—” His face suddenly froze, eyes going wide.
Quinn just stared at him, waiting for his reaction, her hand already curled around the stake in her purse.
From one second to the next, Arnaud dropped his plate and started coughing convulsively. Then he was on his feet, a hand on the mantel, leaning forward, still coughing.
Rising from her seat, stake hidden behind her back, Quinn carefully asked, “Are you alright?”
His breath came in rasping gasps, interspersed with more coughing. When he didn’t respond to her question, Quinn took a step closer, and then another. Maybe he sensed her closeness then or she was making more noise than she thought, but he suddenly turned around, his eyes staring at her. His face had gone awfully pale, but Quinn’s eyes locked onto his two protruding canines, now showing clearly.
All this happened in a matter of seconds, and Quinn didn’t hesitate.
Whatever it was, reflex or quickness of mind, her hand moved without a moment’s notice. Before she knew it, Arnaud had a wooden stake sticking in his chest, piercing his heart.
His mouth dropped open and he stared at her in disbelief. For a moment she almost felt bad. He sunk to his knees then, catching himself with his right arm on the armchair he had sat on before. His eyes closed and he fell to the floor, suddenly completely still.
Looking down at him lying dead at her feet, Quinn couldn’t move. Couldn’t believe what had just happened. Deep down she had been so sure, she would not get out of this alive, and for a moment she wasn’t sure what to do next. Her plan didn’t extend past that point. After she took a deep breath, Quinn simply gathered her belongings and headed for the door. There was nothing left for her to do. She had succeeded.
Seeing the faint rays of sunlight crawling in from outside, Quinn grabbed hold of the handle and pulled open the door, only to have it slammed shut.
A hand gripped her from behind, spinning her around, and pushed her against the closed door.
Her eyes widened in shock as she found Arnaud standing before her, the stake still in his chest.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” he said, shaking his head at her. Looking down, he only now seemed to notice the stake protruding from his chest. Carefully closing his right hand around it, he pulled it out, a grimace of pain showing on his face.
Quinn continued to stare at him, at the stake, at the blood slowly trickling from the gaping hole in his chest, unable to process what was happening.
Letting the stake drop to the floor, Arnaud leaned in closer, his eyes on hers. He placed his hands against the wall to the left and right of her head, trapping her. “I can’t believe you did that,” he said again, but now there was something different in his voice.
Quinn’s heartbeat was hammering in her ears and she started to feel faint again.
Still looking into her eyes, an appreciative smile suddenly spread over his face. “You’ve got courage,” he said.
For a moment Quinn wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly, with the blood still rushing in her ears.
“But be that as it may,” Arnaud continued, glancing at the gash in his chest, “you’ve wounded me. Severely, I might add.” His eyes dropped lower, to the rapidly beating pulse in her jugular. “It’s time to get even.”
Still staring at him, Quinn watched in amazement as Arnaud’s irises seemed to light up from inside. His otherwise dark brown eyes suddenly were framed by a thin red rim, making him look even more like a predator about to charge his prey. His upper lip curled back, revealing a predator’s canines.
Quinn’s breath caught in her throat as he turned her head to the right and lowered his own to her neck. She could feel his breath on her skin and shivered. Again she saw black spots dancing before her eyes and started to feel more than just a little light-headed. Feeling her knees buckle, she slowly started sliding down, but two steady arms held her in place. All this had a sick sense of familiarity to it.
As his canines pierced her skin, Quinn was surprised at how little pain she felt. With every drop of blood leaving her body, her senses were dulled and her surroundings moved far away. It actually wasn’t so bad. She had expected it to be worse. She supposed there were far worse ways to die.
Actually considering herself lucky, she closed her eyes and let go.
Chapter 15 – Silenced
For the second time, Quinn woke up, thinking she should be dead and wondering why she wasn’t. Her eyes slowly opened and looking up at an unfamiliar, vaulted ceiling that could do with a new layer of paint, they traveled around the room that was more familiar than she liked.
Lying on the chaise in Arnaud’s sitting room, Quinn slowly rose to a sitting position, finding her purse beside her, its contents dumped on the floor. The bread container along with her plate still stood on the coffee table, except for the plate Arnaud had dropped when the coughing had started.
Suddenly everything came rushing back and with eyes open wide with shock, Quinn touched a hand to the left side of her neck. To her relief, she felt nothing but smooth skin. Her heartbeat slowed down a little, only to pick up a second later, when she looked down and found a huge blood stain on the front of her shirt.
“It’s not yours,” Arnaud said, walking into the room, closing the last button on his shirt. “It’s mine,” he added, raising an eyebrow in a disapproving way.
Again Quinn stared at him. The shirt he was wearing showed no blood nor was there a hole from the stake, but it wasn’t just the new wardrobe. His skin tone had improved as well. There was none of that chalky paleness on his face any more. Neither were his canines showing, but still the way he held himself reminded her of a predator circling its prey.
“So,” Arnaud said, sitting down across from her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Quinn’s mind needed a moment to process the question. The situation before her could be called contradicting at best. On the one hand, it hadn’t been too long since Arnaud had drank her blood. On the other, he was now sitting in front of her, seemingly with the intention of engaging in a civilized conversation.
Carefully glancing at him, Quinn found Arnaud eyeing her curiously, his face serious, and a shiver went through her. This whole thing had been a stupid idea. How could she have thought she’d get away with this? He was a killer and soon she would be his second victim – at least in this town. Who knew how many others he had killed elsewhere.
Still looking at her, he cocked his head sideways. “Too soon?” There was an amused gleam in his eyes that reminded Quinn of a cat toying with a mouse before killing it.
The only clear thought on her mind was that she needed to get out of there.
Slowly, Quinn rose from her seat but the moment she did, the world started to blur before her eyes and she swayed from side to side.
“You should sit down,” Arnaud said, suddenly standing right in front of her, making her shrink back. The step backward unbalanced her even more and once again her sense of direction was gone. Up and down could have been anywhere.
His hands closed around her shoulders, steadying her, while his closeness sent her heartbeat into a tailspin. “Please,” she whispered, short of breath. She tried to shove him away, but he wouldn’t even budge.
Pushing her back down onto the chaise, Arnaud returned to his own seat, his eyes never leaving her. “You should eat something,” he said, handing her the plate that still held a slice of the garlic bread.
His face slowly came back into focus, and more from reflex Quinn took the offered plate. Breaking off a piece of the bread, she started chewing. Carefully, she kept her eyes to the ground, hoping to avoid any provocation on her part.
By the right front leg of the side table, she spotted her cell phone, half-buried under a loose pile of the contents of her purse.
“Want to call someone?” Arnaud asked.
Startled, Quinn dropped the plate. It broke in-half as it hit the floor. Staring at him wide-eyed, she felt her hands tremble.
Looking her over, Arnaud’s eyes narrowed for a second before he leisurely leaned back in his seat. “Would you like to leave?” he asked.
Afraid that he was just playing with her, Quinn still managed a barely detectable nod.
“Alright, I’ll take you home.”
Again Quinn’s eyes opened wide.
Arnaud leaned forward. “You can’t drive yourself. You can barely stand.”
She took a careful breath. “I can,” she whispered.
He thought for a moment. “Okay, if that is what you want.” Walking over to her, he held out a hand.
Her own still shaking, Quinn took it, a little uneasy about how normal a gesture this was. Slowly, Arnaud pulled her to her feet and waited for her to regain her balance. “World still spinning?” he checked.
“No,” she whispered. Cautiously looking up
, her eyes met his and from one second to the next she was captivated.
Again his eyes looked different. It was as though a light had been lit from within, shining out at her. Only now his brown eyes were circled by a green rim. It wasn’t a predator she saw in his face. It was something else. Something she couldn’t name. Arnaud was still holding her hand and suddenly hers started tingling a little, as though it had gone numb. The feeling slowly crawled up her arm and spread through her entire body, sending shivers down her spine. “Speak of this to no one,” he said, a commanding tone to his voice, one that left no room for objections.
Quinn nodded mechanically. The moment he broke eye contact, something fell from her and she felt normal again. As normal as possible under the circumstances.
Bending down, Arnaud swiftly repacked her purse and, handing it to her, beckoned her to follow. Putting one foot before the other, Quinn slowly walked out of the sitting room and down the hall, now and then steadying herself with a hand to the wall. A part of her mind noticed that Arnaud had taken down some of the paintings that had hung there the last time she had been to his house. The only proof they had once been there were the slightly darker patches of wall paper.
Arnaud stood by the door, holding it open for her, another one of his smug smiles decorating his face. The sun was already low in the sky and the huge sycamores cast long shadows. She had to have been unconscious for quite some time.
Without another word from either of them, Quinn went down the steps of the front porch, hand to the rail, and headed for her car. Her steps quickened slightly as she got closer. Any moment she expected him to be behind her, grab her arm and spin her around. But nothing happened and she sank into the driver’s seat with a huge sigh of relief. Leaning her head back for a moment, she closed her eyes, but not before locking the doors. That moment her cell phone rang, startling her once again.
Checking the display first, Quinn answered. “Mom? Everything alright?”