“I want you to stay away from my girl,” Mindy told him, and drove her heel right through him and his stinking heart. Black sand came spilling out like she’d broken an hourglass.
Bakula screamed and burned and decayed, all the things vampires did. With his dying strength, he threw himself at Lucia, slamming her into a girder headfirst. Then she was tumbling down toward the water. Mindy ran to the side of the bridge, expecting any second for Lucia to turn into mist, to change into a bat—anything but go splash.
She looked back at Bakula, saw him as nothing but a state championship ring glinting in a stir of ashes. She looked back down at the water. The white wake of the fall was absorbed back into the milling darkness. Lucia wasn’t coming to the surface.
Taking her shoes off, Mindy climbed over the guardrail, took a deep breath. She tried to think of how you were supposed to dive in a situation like this, besides feet first. She couldn’t think of anything but reasons not to. So she jumped.
Seventy feet rushed by her, each inch telling her what a bad idea this was.
She hit the surface of the water. Nothing could’ve been colder, harder, deadlier.
Had she passed out on impact? She’d been wide awake a moment before, but now she was slipping in and out of consciousness, constantly waking up to the blackness all around her—pressed in on all sides by darkly churning cold. A cold made physical, lacing through her clothes and turning them into anchors. She struggled out of her jacket, absently seeing her hands stray into her vision. Glowing white in the blackness, then slowly turning blue.
CHAPTER 32
She was woken up only by her burning lungs. She hadn’t even realized she’d lost consciousness. Which way was up? She trusted it was above her head and swam, every stroke carrying her through thick tar. Her head finally broke the surface. She took a deep breath, another, and another. Her muscles spasming with shock. She had to go back down. Just go, just go—
She submerged again, looking around, forcing her eyes to see. There—a trail of bubbles streaming upward. She swam for them, lower, deeper, the moonlight abandoning her, the cold embracing her. Keep going. She followed the trail, straight down, the bubbles dwindling to a steady trickle, then to drips of air wandering past her. Then to nothing. Keep going.
She swam. Bludgeoning the water with the cudgels of her numb arms. She could see the riverbed spread out under her. Rocks and sand and somewhere, Lucia. Her hands tucked into the smooth rocks and her brain rebelled—told her those were Lucia’s bones, worn down by the river. No! Keep going.
There was a living thing in her lungs, clawing, stabbing at the walls, trying to make her come up, but she couldn’t, she wouldn’t, she—
Mindy, I love you.
Lucia! She was like a log that’d burnt down to nothing, every second, another part of her crumbling into ash and pulled away by the current. Off to join the ocean, the dead men at the bottom, the shipwrecks, and the broken hearts.
Mindy kicked hard and brought herself to Lucia. Her arms were numb, lifeless things, connected to her by fraying strings. Her hands seemed impossibly far away from her body, but she made them wrap around Lucia and pull and kick and kick and kick—until the mirror patina of the surface was right above them. Her lungs were screaming as she came up, and the air punched its way into her mouth.
Lucia’s eyes were shut.
Mindy felt like she was climbing a mountain, pulling them to shore. It took a small eternity, but her legs finally stopped kicking through the water and instead caught sandy shoal. They were well clear of the river before she let her body collapse and the two of them sprawled out on the green grass.
“Lucia,” she said, eyes closed, “now would be a good time to say something inconsiderate. Let me know you’re still alive.”
Lucia said nothing. Mindy had to force her eyes open. She looked over at Lucia. With her uniform tattered and torn, she didn’t look like a cheerleader. She looked like an Amazon from some savage tribe. But her skin… It was charred and seared, smoking in places…
Mindy rolled over, beaching herself on Lucia, holding her arm up to Lucia’s vacant face. “Drink. You need it. Drink.”
There was nothing there. Mindy slapped at her arm in front of Lucia’s face, wiped the cold water away as best she could, rubbed briskly at her skin to get it nice and warm. “Drink! Drink, you bitch! You already died on me once, goddamnit!”
Roaring, she slapped Lucia across the face. It jumpstarted Lucia. A fingernail scratching feebly in the air, toes shifting to seek purchase on the wind. And finally, her teeth baring, her eyes opening, all of it a rictus of pain that she couldn’t speak through.
Mindy offered her arm. Pushed the flesh into Lucia’s mouth, but the vampire still wouldn’t bite down. “It’s okay, it’s okay, please—drink.”
And, locking her gaze with Mindy, Lucia bit. The blood leaped into her mouth, surging down her throat. Mindy could practically see it run through her—burnishing her chapped lips, her scratched throat, her ravaged chest, then out to her limbs. Lucia pulled her fangs away, and with renewed strength, she flipped their bodies over so she was straddling Mindy, digging into her throat.
“It’s okay,” Mindy kept saying, Lucia clinging to her. “Take it. Take everything you need.”
It wasn’t like Lucia was drinking her blood. It was like she was sucking what meager warmth there was out of Mindy’s body, pulling it into her own. As Mindy caressed her, she felt a feverish warmth building under Lucia’s skin while a deep chill settled over her. The cold didn’t knife into her. Instead it slowly, sweetly, wrapped around her like an old blanket. She let it soothe and seduce her. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and everything became so wonderfully black—
Lucia pulled away from her. “No.”
Mindy looked at her through slit eyes. Lucia was still horribly scarred, her face awash with pain, the bone in her broken leg tearing at the distended skin. “It’s okay,” Mindy said. “You can—”
“That’s all,” Lucia said firmly. “Hey. ” She rubbed at her reddened cheek. “Did you pimp-slap me?”
“No. Must’ve been somebody else,” Mindy said. Then passed out.
* * *
Mindy was dreaming about being cradled in Lucia’s strong arms. Lucia carried her to an overturned car on the road by the bridge. She shredded her nails on the undercarriage and sparks ignited the spilled gasoline.
The explosion woke Mindy up.
Lucia walked back to her, and they sat down next to each other, warming themselves by the fire. The town was quiet, peaceful—from a distance. The eye of the hurricane was passing overhead.
Lucia put her arm around Mindy, then saw her arm streaked with gore up to the elbow. “Oh, gross, I’ve still got Bakula on me! Ew, Mindy, ew!”
She waved her bloody hand around, her face as disgusted as a schoolgirl confronted with a worm. Mindy watched for a few seconds before tearing a scrap of fabric from Lucia’s skirt. Bit by bit, she scrubbed the gunge off Lucia’s arm.
“That was pretty badass, though,” Mindy said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Punching a guy through the heart. Very Mortal Kombat.”
“It didn’t work, though.”
“I know.”
“Killing him was supposed to cure me.”
“I know.”
“This is who I am now. This is what I am.”
Mindy watched Lucia turn her arm this way and that, the dawn light dazzling her crystalline skin. “It’s beautiful, though.”
Lucia nodded. “They’re not going to leave me alone.”
“Who?”
“Anyone. Everyone. No one’ll want to live next door to the vampire. It’s what I was counting on when I exposed Bakula.”
“Lucia…”
She held up her hand. Her sparkling, shining hand. “I did it for both of us. I didn’t want him to just be able to—put it back like it was, if I died. But I can’t put it back either. There’s a reason I tried to keep you out of it, though. You c
an go home. You can keep your head down. This’ll all pass you by.”
“Maybe I don’t want it to. Maybe I want to keep chasing the storm.”
Lucia shook her head. “You don’t. Not really.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I don’t. I just don’t have a choice. But it is a nice thought, Mindy.” The fire was dying down, leaving just blackened wreckage. “I think you jumping off a bridge makes us pretty even, as far as favors go, but I’d just…appreciate it if you looked after my mom and the dweebs. I’ll be sending some money, but, you know, I won’t be there. You will.”
Mindy spread her arms. “So we can’t—run away together! Alright, we stay and fight! We tell them the truth, we tell them what Bakula was, what he did to Seb.” Mindy got up, feeling her second wind. “The Town Council can’t stonewall us—we can go to the retirement home, find a player or another coach who knew something. Once they know the whole story, people will see you as you really are!”
“Which is?” Lucia asked distantly, behind her.
Mindy paced. “A hero! My hero, at least…” She didn’t look at Lucia. Some part of her knew.
“I’ve never been good at saying goodbyes,” Lucia sighed.
When Mindy turned around, she was gone. Her heart went with her.
CHAPTER 33
It was a nice statue. Very well-sculpted, very expensive. And from the way the artist had captured Bakula’s face, given him a beatific smile, you could tell it was a labor of love. A Dragons fan at work.
Mindy pulled out her phone, turning it on to be able to read the plaque in the dim light of the sunset. The plaque had his name—a lie—his birth date—a lie—and his date of death, one year ago. Hopefully that was true. It went on to list his accomplishments, to commemorate the tornado that had taken his life, and to thank Morgan Biotech for sponsoring the relief effort that had climaxed in this statue, looking over at the high school. Always watching.
Mindy took the spray-can bottle from her backpack. She was glad the plaque was so big. Enough room for all the letters in MURDERER.
* * *
Tired and hot in her robe and her cap and tassel, with her diploma clutched tightly in her hand, she got home, went upstairs, and found Lucia sitting cross-legged atop her bed.
“I told you I wasn’t any good at saying goodbye.”
She wore a two-tone pencil skirt and a black sleeveless top. Both seemed like an extension of the unlit room’s darkness, stretching out to wrap around her. Her hair was trimmed to shoulder length, dyed a new chocolate shade. She looked good. Seeing her, Mindy’s missing her panged worse than ever, somehow.
“What are you doing here?”
Lucia shrugged. “You never revoked my invitation.”
“And I don’t think I’m going to. But—you’re not dead.”
Lucia shook her head. “No. Well, technically—”
“I kinda thought you might be. You didn’t text. And you used to text, like—”
“It’s not like I never saw anything I thought you’d love or thought of something I’d love to say to you…needed something only you knew how to say.” Seeming bored with her own angst, Lucia bopped up to her feet. “Anyway, a clean break seemed best. There’s nothing I hate worse than an ex who keeps sniffing around for leftovers.”
“That’s what we are?” Mindy wrestled her way out of the gown. “Exes?”
“I don’t like that word.” Lucia leaned against Mindy’s bedpost. “You’re a college girl now. There should be something more sophisticated—yes. You’re one of those things I don’t have anymore. Like breathing.”
Mindy shut the door. “Sit on the fucking bed and tell me how you’ve been.”
Lucia did, patting the mattress beside her. She waited until Mindy sat down with her to speak. “Austin.”
“Austin? That’s like an hour from here. Your big escape was moving an hour away?”
“I spent some time in Mexico too,” Lucia said defensively. “Learned Spanish, finally. I should go back and get that foreign language credit un-effed. You should be able to do that, right?”
“Alright. Austin. Tell me everything.”
And Lucia did. The sun came down, low enough to slant through the closed blinds and catch Lucia’s skin, making it sparkle even brighter than Mindy remembered. They lay down beside each other, legs dangling off the bed, kicking at each other’s feet. They talked until Mindy had nothing else to ask about but—“What have you been doing for food?”
The smile that Mindy had been kindling froze on Lucia’s mouth. “Support groups?”
“What, really? El, no.”
Lucia looked over. “They have support groups for everything now. Domestic abuse. Stalking. Rape. You have to be patient—separate the wheat from the chaff—follow someone home, find out who’s hurting them, make sure. And you wait. You let all connections between the two of you grow cold. And when there’s nothing left but you knowing what they’ve done…when there’s some coincidence people can use to explain why he’s gone…then he disappears.”
“Then you kill them.”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Whether they deserve it. I told you. This is what I am now. I’m not asking you to like it. I only came here for three reasons. I’m not gonna stick around in Austin and wait for someone to find a pattern. I’m moving on. What do you think, can LA handle me for a year or two?”
Mindy’s gaze was glued on Lucia. Like she couldn’t leave if Mindy just kept watching her. “How long are you going to run, El?”
“Until I get away.” Lucia went to the window, fingering open the blinds, staring at the moon. It was a full one.
“Three reasons,” Mindy said. “What was the second one?”
“I wanted to see your speech, of course, valedictorian.” Lucia smiled. “I think Seb would’ve liked it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Mindy rolled over on the bed to look at Lucia looking at the moon. Like it was calling to her. “Have you been seeing anyone?”
“Bakula didn’t get over you in like a thousand years. I figure I’m entitled to at least a century. I wanna see you all old and wrinkly before I give up on you.”
“I’m planning to age like Helen Mirren, so…”
“See, maybe that works for me, I could have a thing for older women…”
Mindy got up. “You didn’t come here just for a graduation speech.”
“I didn’t ask you to come away with me last year, and I’m not asking now.”
“I didn’t have a chance to think about it. You were right, not wanting me to feel obligated. But I’ve been thinking about it. And I don’t want to have a life without you. And I don’t think you want a life without me. Before, I always thought of curing you, fixing you, but I can’t. What happened, happened. You are what you are. But you don’t have to be alone. Whatever you go through, I can go through it with you. Make me like you.”
Lucia laughed, shaking her head. “Have you looked in a mirror lately? You’ll notice you look eighteen. I turn you, you’ll be getting carded for eternity.”
“I don’t even like beer.”
Lucia took Mindy’s hands. “I stayed away because I wanted to prove something. To you and to myself—I’m not your responsibility, Minz. I don’t need a babysitter. I didn’t go on a murderous rampage without you…even though the Town Council really has it coming. I can feed. I can survive. I can be…content. I don’t need you as my therapist or my Jiminy Cricket or…as my girlfriend. I just need you to be happy. And if you can be happy with me…”
“El, you’ve been here five minutes. And this is the most I’ve smiled in months.”
“Good. Because I love you. I love you so damn much I can barely remember I’m a monster, knowing you loved me.”
“You’re not a monster, Lucia. Or if you are, then everyone’s a monster, and you’re just a different breed. If the whole world says you’re the Devil, I’ll be there asking h
ow that can be true when you’re my guardian angel. When you’re the woman I love.” Mindy took hold of Lucia’s necklace, playing with it, letting the pendant catch the light. She used it to pull Lucia close to her.
As she kissed Lucia, the cross was sweetly cool.
EPILOGUE
She watched as Principal Haywood was awakened by a scratching at the French door that came from outside her bedroom, from the patio of her palatial house. Haywood squinted first at the darkness around her, then at the blazing red numbers of her alarm clock. 5:24 a.m. Then she looked out at the door—maybe expecting a raccoon.
Lucia stood there, still, silent. It took Haywood a moment to recognize her. Then Lucia pawed at the glass panes again before pushing the doors open.
“Oh God, you’ve seen Salem’s Lot,” Haywood blurted out, before fully coming awake. “What do you want?”
Lucia quit the Stephen King routine, placing her hands behind herself and swaying in her old, insouciant manner. “I’m skipping town. But first I’m throwing a going-away party for myself. It’s a long trip. I’ll need some snacks.”
“I suppose you blame me for what happened to you. Like it was my fault.”
“You…” Lucia spoke dreamily, barely paying attention. “Your friends on the Town Council.”
Haywood pulled her blanket up almost to her neck. “I had nothing to do with what Bakula did! I had no idea!”
“You didn’t want to know.” Lucia continued on in the same airy tone, like they were back in a parent-teacher conference, her cheerleader head a million miles away: “You’re a teacher. You’re supposed to protect kids, not feed us to people like Bakula. Because I know I wasn’t the first, and if it were left up to you, I wouldn’t have been the last.”
“It was the Council’s decision! You can’t just single me out.”
Finally, Lucia focused on her. Gave her that ingratiating smile. “Oh, I’m not. I’ve already visited them. Don’t you always want us teens to be more involved in local politics?”
Haywood sat up. “Alright then. I suppose the others were all stupid enough to let you in—I bet you just tossed your hair and flashed that smile and they opened the door right up. But I know the rules! You can’t come in here unless I invite you in, and that is not ever going to happen!”
Ex-Wives of Dracula Page 38