Crooked Fang

by Carrie Clevenger

  “Xan?” Scott was looking at me.

  I blinked. “What?”

  “I asked if you would let me at least buy you a plane ticket.”

  “To where?” I was too distracted by thoughts. I stood and stretched.

  “New Mexico. Where you want to go.” Scott raised an eyebrow. “You okay? You’re like not all here.”

  “Huh? Oh. Yeah. I’m just about ready to go to sleep is all.” I grabbed my pack of cigarettes off his desk and walked toward the open door leading into the den before turning. “I’ll think about the ticket, Scott. I don’t want to put you out or cost you more than I have to.”

  The sun had already risen, so I went to the garage for my last cigarette. Inside the house, I heard his family rouse and Liz start breakfast–my cue to disappear before she tried to force omelets on me or something. Scott didn’t follow me out, which surprised me because I expected him to push the issue with me on buying me a plane ticket. It’d be harder to get around without my car, but maybe he was right. Silvia might recognize the car, even though at the time it was in way worse shape and usually covered in the driveway back then. I remembered Silvia as the cool older sister that had a Toyota and hauled us around. We’d drag the streets, or go to the record store and browse music. She was pretty too, with shiny brown, almost black hair like her younger sister and both shared piercing black eyes. But Heather was more rounded and shapely, while Silvia had an almost boyish figure with hardly any curves.

  It’d be weird seeing Silvia twenty-six years later. I avoided people from my past for that reason. It hurt to see them get older. Scott was no exception, but I was really glad I’d reconnected. He grounded me and made me feel real. I was floating in an existential limbo otherwise.

  I glanced down at my cigarette. It’d burned down all the way, leaving a pillar of ash perched between my fingers. It was stupid of me to smoke. It wasn’t like a physical need, more like a mental urge. Maybe the researchers were right: it was all in the head. I dumped the dead cigarette into the saucer Scott’d donated to use as an ashtray and started to go back inside, but Scott opened the door to the garage a second before I reached for the knob.

  “There you are.” He’d ditched the coffee and had put on jeans and white sneakers.

  “I was coming back inside.”

  “Ah.” He looked over my shoulder. I followed his gaze. “I figured I’d shovel the sidewalk and salt the driveway.”

  “I’d help you if I could.” I shrugged.

  “So, are you going to let me get you a ticket to New Mexico or not?”

  I sighed and stared at my bare feet. “The problem with commercial airlines is there’s complications that can happen.”

  “So? It’s like an hour flight from Denver. Maybe Silvia will come pick you up. We can have you leave here after sunset.”

  A vampire on a plane. It sounded like a comedy. I’d gotten used to doing for myself since I’d died. If I couldn’t drive there, I stayed right where I was. A badly timed layover could mean disaster to a guy like me that couldn’t tolerate sunlight. And how would I pack? I couldn’t even carry a bottle of hairspray over four ounces, let alone a weapon and ammunition. My guns were still in the RS, under the liner in the trunk. The ammunition’d been hidden in my room at Pale Rider, but that was kind of a lost cause. I’d have to buy more anyway. I didn’t like using guns. I used them enough for my sire and the odd jobs I stopped taking a few years ago. I was good with them–maybe a little too good–and had a reputation among other vamps as an asshole they didn’t want to fuck with. It worked well for me because they all left me the hell alone in Pinecliffe. As far as I knew, I was now the only vampire in Pinecliffe.

  “I’m going to drive out to Pale Rider tonight. My bike is still out there. Gonna check if it made it through the fire. I think I want to drive it to New Mexico instead.” Like hell I was going to go through security at a fucking airport.

  “What about your car?”

  “Well, provided the bike is okay and not melted to the garage floor, I’d want to leave the RS here with you, if that’s all right, I mean.”

  Scott shrugged. “Sure. Why don’t I just drive you out to Pinecliffe and if the bike is still good you can come back on it?”

  I agreed. Scott admitted that Liz probably wasn’t going to like my car sitting in the driveway, so instead of shoveling snow, Scott moved some shit around in the garage. Well, he moved a couple of things and sort of pointed out where he wanted me to move the rest.

  “I guess the words ‘garage sale’ mean nothing to you guys.” I picked up the far end of the pool table and spun it around sideways.

  “Well it’s stuff we’ve had for a while. I know I could stand to part with a few things...”

  “A few?” I laughed. “You have like six boxes of Christmas lights.”

  “Yeah. I put them on the house at Christmas. We’re festive here. You know, jolly.”

  I grunted. “Jolly. Pfft. Waste of electricity. Keeps the neighbors up at night.”

  “It’s for the kids, Xan.”

  We stared at the space we’d cleared out.

  “Think it’ll fit?” I looked at Scott.

  “Hope so.”

  I dropped the keys into his open palm then backed against the wall as he opened the garage door. Scott walked out into the sun, looked around and then got into the RS. It started without hesitation, the twin exhaust pipes spitting out two puffs of smoke. With a low rumble, it crept forward into the garage. The overhead lights slid over the slick blue fenders, making me smile. It was the prettiest thing I’d ever owned, and leaving it in Scott’s care was a humongous show of trust.

  Scott switched off the ignition, got out and thumbed a button mounted on the unfinished wall to put the door down again.

  I caught the keys when he tossed them to me. “You sure I’m not going to have a cue ball through the windshield?”

  He snorted. “Nah, nobody plays pool except you and I, and if your jump shot hits your car well...”

  “Hah. Right. Okay. Do you think Liz is going to throw a fit about this?”

  Scott shook his head. “I think she’ll be more upset about losing her helper around the house.”

  Chapter 6

  The moon was just a sliver when Scott and I set out for Pinecliffe in his Escalade. The weather’d cleared, but it was cold enough for Scott to wear a lined coat. I sat in the passenger seat wearing my usual black leather jacket. In my pocket were gloves. I offered them to him.

  “No thanks, the heater’ll kick in soon enough.”

  I shrugged and stared at the road through the windshield. “Do you think Silvia will be okay with me coming out there?”

  Scott nodded. “I think she’ll be glad for any company right now. As far as I know, she’s all alone in this. Where are you planning to stay? With her?”

  “I can’t just show up out of nowhere and expect her to put me up.” I fidgeted for a cigarette. “I’ll think of something.”

  “I’m going to give you some money.” Scott glanced at me. “And you’re not going to say no. I don’t want you to have to sleep in a...whatever you...your kind...”

  “I’m not going to hide in a crypt. I don’t know if they even have those.” I smirked when Scott’s eyes grew wider. “Relax, man, I’m just kidding. I wouldn’t sleep in a mausoleum unless I had no other choice.”

  “Ew.”

  “I know. I feel the exact same way.”

  Scott picked up speed as we approached the feeder ramp to the highway. “I forget that you don’t need to eat, or stay warm. I mean, it’s still weird, even after three years. And you’ve been like this for so much longer. You’re like a brother to me. I just want to keep you safe.”

  I snorted. “I’d say that’s cute of you to say, but I know you’re serious.”

  “I am. No matter what you are. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Gabriel.”

  I blinked at his use of my real name. If it would have been anybody else, I’d corrected them, bu
t from Scott it felt right. Like we were back then. Before he grew up, and before I died. If I didn’t look at him, it was easy to pretend that it was the past, aside from the disgustingly expensive SUV he drove, and the slightest shake in his voice. Maybe it was the vibration from the road. I could hope for that.

  The faded sign that marked the drive to Pale Rider was dark that night. Scott would have passed it if I hadn’t warned him. His headlights stabbed the deep darkness that had taken dominion around the damaged building.

  I held my breath as the lights struck the front side of the tavern. Half of the eave was gone. The second-floor windows were blown out. Only jagged shards remained in the frames, glittering ominously.

  “Drive around back.” I pointed in the direction he needed to go, but was unable to tear my gaze away from the destruction until it was out of my line of sight. The rear of the building was untouched. I exhaled, relieved. I got out of the truck as soon as Scott brought it to a stop, with the high beams shining on the garage door. A new padlock secured the big bay door. I crouched and twisted it off with hardly any effort while Scott looked on.

  The old Challenger greeted us in all her rusty glory, and next to it, my bike under its protective cover. I yanked the cover off it and grinned. Aside from a slight barbecued mesquite odor, the Suzuki was completely untouched by damage. I straddled it and rolled it backward out of the garage with my feet.

  “Looks like you’ve got your ride.” Scott smiled.

  “I guess not all is lost.” I pulled my hair back with elastic. “I’ll be back at the house later. I just want to ride around for a while.”

  Scott nodded. “Sure, man. I’ll leave the back door unlocked for you.”

  He got back in the SUV, put it in reverse, and drove out of the parking lot, leaving me in the dark on my motorcycle. As soon as he was out of sight, I got off the bike and walked around the front of the building instead. Dead, icy grass crisped under my feet, burned black from the blaze and heat. Police tape fluttered in the soft breeze, crisscrossed over the doorless entryway. I slipped between them and stood up in what was the main hall.

  It was absolutely silent in there, save for an occasional creak of charred wood or a sigh of wind through a windowless frame. Debris and splintered wood crackled underfoot as I made my way to the stairs. Anybody in their right mind wouldn’t try them, but I wasn’t anybody, and at that point, in my right mind either. I had to see it. I needed to see where it started. The stairs were dark, oily and dusted with ash. The handrail was completely gone. I braced myself along the wall for balance as I stepped carefully through the wreckage to reach the second floor.

  The door to what was my room hung on one hinge. I could make out the back wall in the dim light, thanks to my night vision. More tape blocked the entryway to Serv’s room. I tore it away, and pushed open what was left of his door.

  Only the floor remained, the farthest wall eaten away by flame to pointed, blackened teeth, jutting out into the night. Everything in the room was utterly destroyed. I took a step into the room and reached down to find one of Serv’s records melted to the floor. Emotion welled up inside me and I remembered our last words that night through the door. I hadn’t known I’d never get the chance to apologize. I never thought there’d not be time to make it up to him. The only thing Serv wanted was to be loved. Something trickled down my cheek and when I wiped at it, I realized it was a tear.

  Goddamnit, Serv. He hadn’t deserved to die. Was he somewhere watching? Or did we just poof out of existence entirely? Maybe he was part of the wood now. The wood, and the air as the wind sought and carried away whatever was left of him.

  I stood there for a little bit, letting the stench of fire-ravaged timber sting my nostrils. I never wanted to forget that moment. We could die at any given instant, even as immortals. The realization of that statement bore heavy on my shoulders. I bowed my head.

  “I promise I will find who did this. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll find them and tear them apart.”

  I crossed the room and stepped out onto what was left of the eave below to drop to the ground. Pale Rider would be rebuilt. Life would go on. It would also never be the same.

  I started my bike and rode out of there without looking back, pushing the machine to its limits the moment I hit the paved highway.

  I wanted to hunt down the fuckers who killed Serv. I wanted to rip them up, piece by piece, and drown in their blood. I would have their blood. In my hands, by a bullet, or with my fangs, I would kill them all. But not yet. I had business elsewhere. Even if I hadn’t decided to go to New Mexico, I had no leads on who had done it, or even who wanted him dead. Besides, it was probably me they were really after. Serv had just been in the wrong place at the right time.

  I wanted to go see Tabby, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to put anybody else in danger. On the way back to Scott’s I decided to leave the next night. If Silvia didn’t want anybody to help, I’d figure it out on my own. I’d leave Colorado, resolve whatever the fuck happened to Heather, regroup and come back. The sky was lightening to a dusty mauve by the time I reached Scott’s house. I parked the bike next to the house, scaled the tall fence and let myself in the unlocked back door. I also scared the shit out of Liz, who was apparently shuffling toward the coffee pot for her first cup of the morning. She gasped and almost screamed before she realized it was just me.

  “You’re an odd one, you know that? And how did you get in the back door?” She was wearing a pink nightgown, housecoat and a sleepy scowl. She rubbed her eyes and walked into the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

  “Did you want breakfast? Of course you don’t. You’re too good to eat here.”

  I opened my mouth to answer but she kept on. Apparently they were only rhetorical questions.

  “I looked outside the door for the paper and saw your car was gone. Were you out all night? Well you are young enough to–never mind.” Liz shook her head and pulled a cup out of the cabinet. It had big pink roses dotting the sides. The woman never occurred to me to be a pink person, but whatevs.

  “Sorry.” I stood there, unsure of whether it was safe to retreat to the basement.

  “What are you sorry for?” She blinked and looked directly at me for the first time since I’d come in.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She raised a thin, arched eyebrow. “You didn’t.” She walked away with her coffee, and I shook my head. “And take your dirty shoes off before you get marks all over my carpet!”

  It was like having a mom again: kind of creepy, but at the same time comforting. I sniggered as I knelt to unlace my boots as requested.

  I was weary and down, but I forced myself into the shower to wash the stink of the fire off my body and out of my hair. My jacket still reeked of it from the real thing. I couldn’t scrub hard enough. The hot water finally gave out, alerting me to how long I’d just stood there thinking. I did a lot of my thinking in the shower those days. I wasn’t going to let anyone know where I was going except Scott. I’d call him to make sure everything was still okay every day. If Tabby didn’t know where I was, she’d be better off, and if those bastards even tried anything with Charlie I’d...

  I clenched my hands into tight fists, unable to do anything with the unexpected surge of fury. Who the fuck was I kidding? I couldn’t even protect somebody that wasn’t designed to die. What made me think I could do anything for the comparatively fragile beings the rest of my friends were? I wasn’t some kind of superhero.

  It didn’t matter what the hell I did. I was a vampire. A creature of the night. One of those damned bloodsuckers. And I always would be. I could fight it all I wanted. In the end, my fucking fangs had the final say. Scott, Charlie, Tabby...all food. All prey. I was the wolf wearing a sheep’s skin, walking like they did, talking like they did, but I wasn’t one of them. None of it was my problem. The only real issue I had that directly concerned me was Serv’s death. So why was I taking off?

  Because I wanted to protect m
y friends.

  * * * *

  Scott came downstairs to the basement to catch me gathering my things. I’d deflated the air mattress and folded the blanket I’d borrowed. I wanted to be ready to get out of there when the sun went down.

  “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have a backpack you don’t care if you get back, would you?”

  “Damn, you’re taking off tonight?”

  “Yeah. As soon as that dayball drops out of the sky.”

  Scott reached the foot of the stairs and scratched his head, thinking. His expression brightened. “Yeah. I do. In all that shit you told me to get rid of in the garage.”

  “Can I use it?” I nodded at the small folded stack of clothes on the dryer. It was all I had now.

  “Sure. I’ll show it to you to make sure it’s what you need.”

  In the garage, he rummaged through boxes until he found a carton of camping gear. “Did you need a portable stove too?”

  I laughed and shook my head.

  “Ah. Here you go.” He pulled at a strap and freed the backpack. It was nice–dark blue, with two large compartments and small zippered pouches on the sides.

  “That’s absolutely perfect.” I took it from him, opened it and relieved it of an emergency blanket, three ancient granola bars and a bright-yellow poncho.

  “See, and you said this was all junk.” Scott put the stuff back in the box and stacked it on top of the others before pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He extracted an ATM card.

  “Ten-ten is the pin number. Whatever you need, withdraw. You can check the balance before you take money just to make sure I’ve added more.”

  “Ten-ten? My birthday?” I didn’t take the card. “I thought you were going to just give me a few bucks.”

  “Take it, Xan. And yeah, I used your birthday for the pin number.”

  “I don’t want to take all your money, man.”

  “Then don’t. Withdraw what you need. I know you enough that you will. You’re not the kind of friend that would bleed me dry.” He snorted. “That’s what my daughter is for.”