When the two couples met in the lobby later, Matt asked, “You guys want to get some breakfast?”
Shooter glanced at TJ, who blushed, and shook his head. “Not really. How about we pick us out a car and get on the road? We can stop and eat along the way.”
Matt noticed the fresh bite marks on Shooter’s neck, and he saw that TJ, like Sam, had rosy cheeks and a much better color to her skin than the previous day. He unconsciously fingered his own fresh wounds as he answered, “That’s okay with me. The sooner we get to Canada, the safer I’ll feel.”
They got directions from the desk clerk to the nearest used car dealer and had a cab take them there. When they got to the car dealer, Matt noticed TJ and Sam looking around apprehensively and talking in low voices to each other.
While Shooter moved around the car lot, checking out various vehicles, Matt moved over to the girls. “What’s going on?” he asked, feeling the hair stir on the back of his neck as he picked up the nervousness of the women.
Sam put her arm in his and led him deeper into the car lot, with TJ following close behind. “Don’t look now,” Sam said in a low voice, her eyes straight ahead, “but we’re being followed and watched.”
“What?” Matt exclaimed, starting to turn his head and look behind them.
Sam squeezed his arm with hers. “I said, don’t look,” she said in a harsh whisper. “We don’t want him to realize we know he’s there.”
“Who is it?” Matt asked, fighting a strong desire to turn and look.
Sam shrugged slightly. “We don’t know, but both TJ and I can sense his presence. We suspect he’s someone sent by Morpheus to trail us.”
“But how could he have found us?” Matt asked. “We haven’t used any credit cards and no one knows where we are.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. It seems impossible for him to have known about our trip to Spokane in time to have someone waiting for us, especially since we used fake names when we bought the tickets, but he did. We’ll have to figure that out later.”
“Well, if Morpheus sent him, then he must be a . . .”
“Yes, he is,” Sam said. “TJ and I both fed this morning and evidently it sharpened our senses. As soon as we left the hotel we could both feel him behind us.”
Matt blushed slightly at her mention of their morning’s activities, but he put the picture of their lovemaking out of his mind as he tried to figure out what they should do next.
As if she could read his thoughts, which she probably could, Sam said, “Don’t worry. TJ and I have a plan. Let’s just buy a car and get on the road, and we’ll take it from there.”
“But . . .”
She squeezed his arm again and smiled up at him. “No buts, dear. Just relax and let us deal with it.”
“Relax?” he groused. “With some monster sent by Morpheus on our trail? That’s easier said than done.”
He could have bitten his tongue off when he saw her face blanch at his use of the term monster.
He quickly put his hand up to her cheek and stared into her eyes. “By monster, sweetheart, I mean those who kill innocent people. You know I don’t include you or TJ in that group.” He hesitated, and then he added, “Or even Elijah, now that he’s given all that up.”
Her face softened and she smiled at him, but he could still see the hurt in her eyes. “I know dear, and I love you, too,” she said, though her voice was more wistful than passionate.
Twenty-eight
Matt was still trying to decide how to make up for his faux pas to Sam when he heard Shooter give a whistle. He and Sam and TJ walked among the rows of cars until they found him standing next to a 1996 Jeep Grand Cherokee. Shooter had the hood up and was peering intently at the engine.
Matt stood next to him and glanced at the engine. “What the hell are you doing, Shooter?” he asked. “You know you don’t know anything about machinery.”
Shooter gave him a flat look. “You know that, and I know that, pal, but the salesman walking over to us doesn’t know that.”
Matt raised his head and stared over the hood at the man walking rapidly across the car lot toward them. He was about five-and-a-half-feet tall, almost as wide as he was tall, and had a balding head with a fringe of hair along the sides that he’d allowed to grow long so he could comb a few sparse strands over the top. Of course, as soon as the wind blew it made the comb-over stand straight up. He was dressed in a horrendous plaid jacket of green and gold with green polyester pants.
“Jesus,” TJ said from next to Matt and Shooter as she stared at the man with wide eyes. “He’s a walking caricature of a used car salesman.”
“Yeah,” Matt observed dryly, “and he shops for his clothes at the same place Shooter does.”
Shooter, who was wearing a purple and black flannel shirt open over a purple tee shirt and black jeans snorted and shook his head. “He may shop at the same place, but he doesn’t wear his clothes with the same style as I do.”
When the man finally arrived, he pasted a fake smile on his face, revealing impossibly white dentures. “Howdy, folks. My name’s Ben Sheffield and selling’s my game. I see you’ve managed to pick out the best deal on the lot.”
Shooter didn’t smile but just asked in a flat voice. “How much? Bottom-line, walk-off-the-lot-price?”
Sheffield’s face fell, as if he expected a little back and forth and was disappointed at the lack of foreplay. “Well, now, that’s a real low mileage vehicle, and it’s got all-time four-wheel drive . . .”
Shooter interrupted, “I know all about Jeeps, and if you think one hundred forty thousand miles is low, I’d hate to look at one of your high-mileage cars. Just give me a price, and no dickering. Mr. Sheffield, you’re gonna get one chance to sell this beast, so make it your best offer.”
Matt and the girls looked at Shooter in surprise. They’d never seen his bargaining personality before.
Sheffield hemmed and hawed for a moment, pursing his lips and staring from the car to Shooter, trying to decide if the man meant it or was just messing with him.
Finally, he blurted, “Eight thousand, five hundred.”
Shooter grinned sarcastically as he pulled out the wad of hundred dollar bills Sam had given him. “I’ll give you seventy-five hundred, and I’ll even let you pretend you’re not hosing us at that price.”
Sheffield didn’t hesitate. “Done. Now I’m going to have to do some paperwork, see some I.D. and proof of insurance . . .”
Shooter interrupted him again as he began to count out hundred dollar bills slowly, holding them up where the man could see them. “No, you misunderstood me,” Shooter said, staring at the man as he counted the bills. The girls knew this was their cue to use mental persuasion to convince the salesman to agree with whatever terms Shooter suggested. “Seventy-five one hundred dollar bills means you sign the title and hand it to me, along with the keys. No paperwork, no I.D.s, no insurance bullshit, and I don’t care what you tell your sales manager you got for the car.” Shooter held out the wad of bills, “Deal?”
Sheffield pursed his lips, unable to take his eyes off the cash in front of him as he mentally figured that he could tell his boss he’d sold the heap for fifty-five hundred and could put two grand in his pocket under the table. After a few seconds, he smiled and held out his hand. “Deal. What name would you like on the title?”
“We’ll fill that in later,” Shooter said, “but we’re in kind of a hurry, so let’s go get the keys.”
When Shooter followed the man off toward the sales office, he glanced back over his shoulder and gave his friends a conspiratorial wink.
TJ laughed and shook her head. “Shooter never ceases to amaze me,” she said.
Matt and Sam grinned at each other. “Me, too,” Matt said. “I never would have guessed that Shooter had that particular talent.”
Five minutes later, Shooter appeared with the title in one hand and two sets of keys in the other. “Pile in,” he said grinning, “and let’s hope this pile
of rust won’t die on us as soon as we leave the lot.”
Once they were all in the car and Shooter was headed down the road, TJ scooted over and put her arm around his shoulders. “Babe, you were great back there.”
“Hey, girl, I deal with lowlifes and scumbags and thieves all day. I could read the larceny in the man’s eyes like you read a newspaper. Plus, I knew you girls would help him see the light.”
When he got to a stop light at the next intersection, Matt glanced at the directions Elijah Pike had given TJ. The road had a sign on it saying Route 2. “Take a left here, Shooter. We head north toward Sandpoint, Idaho, for the next seventy-five miles.”
As he made the turn, Sam glanced out of the rear window. “He’s still back there,” she said.
TJ turned in her seat. “I know, I can smell the stench of death on him from here.”
Shooter glanced sideways at her. “I don’t smell anything.”
TJ squeezed his shoulder. “I know, dear, I know.”
* * *
About ten miles along Route 2, Shooter pulled into a gas station to fill up the tank, grousing that the son of a bitch Sheffield sold them a car with an almost empty tank.
While he put gas in the car, Matt and the girls went into the convenience store and bought sandwiches and cold drinks and a map of the region.
Once the tank was full, TJ got in the backseat with Sam and Matt rode up front with Shooter. Matt could hear the girls talking in low voices as they peered at the map and discussed ways to deal with the man following them.
An hour later, Sam leaned forward, putting her arms on the front seat. “Shooter, you’re about to come to Lake Pend Oreille, on the edge of the Kaniksu National Forest. If you see a rest stop or picnic area, pull over.”
Shooter glanced at Matt, traces of worry in his eyes, but all he said was, “You got it, Sam.”
* * *
The rest area was heavily wooded, with a small asphalt road that wound among the trees skirting several wooden picnic tables with fire pits for cooking. The area was perfect for what Sam and TJ had in mind.
Sam asked Shooter to go as far back in the area as it was possible to go.
They all piled out of the car and Sam and TJ looked at each other. Matt thought it was almost as if the women were conversing with each other in their minds, a thought that scared him almost as much as what he figured they were about to do.
After a moment, Sam looked at the two men. “You guys stay here next to the car, okay?”
“And,” TJ added, “don’t move no matter what you hear.” She glanced at Sam again, sadness in her eyes. “Neither one of us want you to see what we’re going to do.”
“But, sweetheart . . .” Shooter started to protest.
TJ moved to him and caressed his cheek tenderly. “No, darling. That’s the way it has to be. Trust me on this, will you?”
When Shooter nodded reluctantly, TJ and Sam trotted off into the forest, not taking the road on which they’d come.
Shooter slapped his thigh. “Well, podnah, what do you think of that?” he asked, disgust in his voice.
Matt, whose eyes were on the retreating figures of their lovers, sighed. “I think they don’t want us to see what they’re about to become. They love us too much to let us see how truly horrible this vampyre bug can make them.”
* * *
The man, who called himself Simon Hunter, pulled his dark blue sedan off the side of the road when he saw the group pull into the rest area. He didn’t know why Michael Morpheus wanted them followed, but he had little else to do with his time and the man who’d contacted him had promised him something special if he did this favor for them.
Simon had in mind a new Porsche Boxer convertible, and since his stocks were in the tank lately and he had no intention of doing any hard work to earn the money, he figured this was an easy way to get his dream car. That, plus the fact that he’d heard this Morpheus was a mean son of a bitch you didn’t want pissed off at you.
He waited almost thirty minutes, and when the group didn’t reappear he began to get anxious. He’d never been this far north before and he wasn’t exactly sure the park didn’t have a rear exit. If he let these stupid Normals get away from him, he knew Morpheus would find some way to punish him.
He tried casting about after them with his mind, but he’d already found out he couldn’t read the two women, and the men must be too far away for him to catch any inkling of their thoughts or emotions.
“Damn,” he muttered, easing out of the car and locking the door behind him. He pulled his cell phone out and called the number the man had left with him.
“Morpheus,” was the short answer after only two rings.
“This is Simon,” Hunter said. “I’ve followed them like you asked me to and they’ve pulled into a park near Lake Pend Oreille just before you get to Sandpoint.”
“Where the hell is Sandpoint?” Morpheus asked irritably.
“It’s in northern Idaho, just below the Canadian border,” Hunter replied.
“Do you still have them in sight?”
“Uh, no, not really. They pulled real far back in the park and I can’t see them now.”
He could hear Morpheus’s sigh over the phone. “Well, then, Mr. Hunter,” he said sarcastically, “I suggest you get off your ass and see what they’re up to, like you’re supposed to be doing.”
Hunter almost said “Yes, sir” at Morpheus’s harsh order, but caught himself just in time. After all, he was the one doing that bastard a favor. He’d be damned if he’d kow-tow to him, too.
“All right. I’ll check back with you when they get on the move again.”
Morpheus didn’t even have the courtesy to answer but merely broke the connection. “Arrogant son of a bitch,” Hunter thought as he put his cell phone in his jacket and jogged slowly into the woods toward the back of the park.
As the air darkened in the shadows of the big Ponderosa pines and the air became chilly, Hunter tripped over a root and sprawled face down in the humus and damp pine needles.
“Goddamn it!” he snarled and got up on his knees and began to dust his hands off.
A dark form moved out of the shadows and stood before him, blocking what little sunlight managed to sneak through the trees.
Hunter looked up and his heart almost stopped at the apparition before him. It was almost as tall as he was and was covered with a delicate mane of reddish auburn hair, except for the head, which sported a wild thatch of hair the color of blood. It was obviously female, with nice pink-tipped breasts peeking through the fur, but the face was anything but nice. Her fangs were long and glistened with red drool as she snarled at him, her claws extended before her as she moved slowly toward him.
All in all, Hunter thought she was the most beautiful of his kind he’d ever seen. He felt his groin grow heavy as he began his own transformation.
He leapt to his feet, jerking his shirt off and undoing his pants with hands already turning into claws. As his erection sprang into view, he caressed it, growling, “I’m going to fuck you to death, and then I’m going to drink your blood, bitch!”
Just before he completed his change, Hunter heard a slight sound behind him and looked over his shoulder.
“Fuck this, you bastard!” TJ shrieked as she swung with all her might, her claws ripping half Hunter’s face off and snapping his head back.
As he screamed in terror and pain, Sam was on him, rending and tearing with her teeth and claws at his face and head.
TJ stopped her before she could kill him, and they stood over him, claws ready while he cowered before them. “What have you told Morpheus?” TJ growled, baring her teeth.
“Uh, nothing, I swear,” he cried, trying to scoot away from them, his heels digging into the soft dirt.
“This is your last chance to live, so tell us,” Sam said.
“Okay,” Hunter whined, holding up his hands in front of him as if he could ward them off. “I called him and told him you were here at the lake, but
that’s all, I promise.”
“Bastard!” TJ screamed as she leapt on him. Sam joined her and they bore him to the ground like hungry tigresses, ripping him apart while he continued to howl and scream, until finally even his moans had died with him. Sam straddled his dead body, sank her claws into the side of his head, and with a mighty wrench, tore the head from the body and tossed it to the side. She smacked her lips, making a face at the sour taste of Hunter’s blood.
Sam got to her feet and she and TJ stood over the body, facing each other, their breasts heaving and blood dripping from their mouths and claws.
With a nod as they communicated telepathically, they both turned and sprinted toward the shore of the lake a few dozen yards away through the woods. Without slowing, they plunged into the icy waters and came up sputtering and spitting.
“Jesus Christ!” TJ exclaimed, her body now back to normal. “This lake is freezing.”
Sam laughed, shaking her hair in the air as she scrubbed it with her hands to get the last of the blood out. “Not quite, TJ, but almost,” she agreed.
After a few minutes, they emerged from the lake, naked and barefoot and walked to pick up their clothes where they’d left them before they changed.
Sam looked at TJ while she buttoned her blouse. “What do you think we ought to tell the boys?” she asked.
TJ grinned. “From the sounds that son of a bitch made, I don’t think we’ll have to tell them anything.”
Sam’s forehead wrinkled as she thought about this. “Do you think they will come to hate us, to think us monsters?”
TJ shook her head, her face becoming serious. “No. From the thoughts I pick up from Shooter, especially when we’re making love, I believe he thinks it’s kinda cool, in a funny sort of way.”
Sam thought back to the last time she and Matt had made love, and she found she had to agree with TJ. Matt, too, in his own way, seemed enthralled with the changes in her since her conversion.
“Matt does, too,” she said, “but what do you think they’d think if we let them see us in our vampyre form?”
TJ laughed and made her eyes wide. “It’d probably scare the shit out of ’em!”
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