The girls whisper conspiratorially with each other about using magic, then run upstairs. My parents and Dalton are too loud for me to make out much of what the girls said, but I don’t bother going after them. Any help at this point would be good, even if I don’t really expect Sophia to be able to do much.
I check my phone to see who the text came from in case it might’ve been Sam or one of those vampires using his phone to make a threat. Turns out, it’s from Hunter asking me if I’ve seen Ronan. Oh, dammit. No! How am I supposed to tell him that his little brother’s life is in danger because of me? No way is that message going by text or even phone call. Gotta do that in person.
“Where the hell are they?” asks Dad. “You seemed to know.”
“I imagine they’d want me to go to the place where I left the bomb. However, it’s unlikely they are still living there. The place had some remodeling done. It’s quite airy and open now.” He flashes a whimsical smile. “If a bit blackened.”
“They are not,” says Coralie in a calm, ethereal voice. “All I see of the ruins are agony and sunlight.”
Dalton squirms. “Aye. That wouldn’t have been pleasant. But if they’re not going to release Sam, what the bloody hell am I supposed to do?”
I grab two fistfuls of my hair, but manage not to scream in utter frustration. It’s sorely tempting to call Aurélie and ask her to swoop in on LA and ‘layeth the smacketh down’ as they say. But, to be honest with myself, it’s doubtful she would. Maybe I’m overestimating the political delicacy of the situation. The impression she’d given me months ago when describing things is that different regions of the world fall under the political control of various vampire elders. Control in the sense of vampire kind, that is. They don’t bother with mortals. Usually anyway. Apparently, the Cuban Missile Crisis would have ended in a nuclear strike if not for some strategic mind control.
But… Sam. Yeah, I gotta ask at least.
“I’m gonna call Aurélie. Maybe she can help.”
Dalton makes a weird face, glancing up at the top of the stairs.
I’ve barely got the phone halfway out of my pocket, but I twist around to look—expecting some manner of Sophia weirdness—but it’s Blix. The imp stares at me and makes a ‘come here’ gesture with one finger.
Coralie nods.
Okay, maybe I don’t need to bother Aurélie.
“Umm, guys. Give me a sec…” I head for the stairs.
Blix darts out of sight.
“What are you doing?” calls Dad.
I pause on the second step and glance back at him. “Getting Sam and his friends back… I hope.”
19
The Grand Life
Blix is waiting for me in Sam’s room, staring intently at my brother’s tablet.
I guess it’s technically his room, too.
When I walk in, he holds the screen up at me, open to the note app. Writing that looks like it came from a kindergartener spells out: ‘will take you to Sam. Go now. Go fast.’
“Blimey,” whispers Dalton, behind me.
“Gah!” I jump and whirl, clutching my chest. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry, luv. Habit.”
“I didn’t even hear you coming.”
He examines his fingernails. “I am somewhat practiced at being quiet, though I hadn’t been trying to startle you.”
“Forget it.” I point at the imp. “You don’t think they have Sam and the boys at the place you blew up.”
“Highly doubtful. It’s a ruin now. No real cover.”
I scoop Blix up and ‘show’ him to Dalton. (The imp appears not to mind). “He says he can find Sam. So, I’m gonna go get my brother and his friends back. Then we can worry about what to do with those vampires.”
“Right. Let’s go.” He nods.
“You’re coming?” I blink at him.
“Wait, you’re not going to try and talk me out of it? You’re supposed to say ‘no that’s too dangerous for you to go there. It’s what they want.’” He puts on a fake look of worry, but I can tell from our thought link that he’s teasing. Dalton’s furious that they involved Sam. “Right. Let’s go. There isn’t much time left. Oh, wait.”
“Wait? One second you say we don’t have much time, the next, you say wait?”
Dalton extends his fangs and draws blood from his thumb, creating a small puddle in his left hand. “Here, luv. This will help.”
“What are you loaning me? Stealth?”
“No. Flight.”
“I can already fly.”
“Yes, but you’re not as fast as me.” He winks.
Whatever. I don’t have time to argue and there’s no deception here, so I grab his hand and slurp up the maybe teaspoon’s worth of blood. An electric tingle crackles over my teeth before running down inside me to my stomach, then spreads over the rest of my body.
“Right. Let’s go.”
Blix flails and babbles. Yeah, yeah. I know. We’re going.
“What are you doing?” asks Sierra, from the doorway.
I run over and grab her hand. “Go tell Mom and Dad that we have a way to find Sam, maybe skip entirely around those other vampires. Dalton and I are going to LA right now to get him back. And no, you’re not coming with us.”
She grumbles. “I know. Too little, no real skills. Too dangerous. I wanna go, but I’m not stupid. Okay. Be careful!” Sierra hugs me, then runs down the hall to the stairs.
Blix keeps flailing and babbling.
Sophia’s standing in the doorway of her bedroom, face still wet from crying but she has a confident, determined set to her eyes. As we leave Sam’s room and go left down the hall to the stairs, she and the imp exchange looks. He gives her a thumbs-up, to which she nods. No time to grill her about it, so I run down to the space by the front door and put on my sneakers before dashing outside and leaping into the air without too much care if anyone happens to be watching. It’s late and dark, anyway. Dalton scoops his expensive shoes up and puts them on while flying.
Blix emits a frustrated sigh, then wriggles out of my grip to climb around onto my back. There, he digs his little claws into my shoulders and flattens himself against me. Even without Dalton’s loan to boost my flight speed, outrunning imps didn’t tax me much. We are going way faster than Blix can fly on his own. However, the speed doesn’t appear to bother him. Then again, he’s not wearing any clothes to be ripped off by wind. My sweatshirt and jeans are handling it well at least.
I figure it’s pretty pointless to ask Blix for directions right away. We’ve got a long ass flight ahead of us, pretty much the entire West Coast. Dalton takes my left hand and tows me into the air. I pour on as much speed as my body will give, and it does feel as though the wind is hitting my face much harder than normal. No idea how fast we’re exactly going, but it’s not stressing me out to keep up with Dalton. While we can’t talk at this speed due to wind, telepathy works.
We’ll likely be arriving down there with very little time to spare before sunrise, says Dalton into my head.
Yeah. Figured. That we’re going to make it there at all without having to stop somewhere to rest is kind of impressive. How fast are we flying?
A titch over 220 miles an hour. I’d strongly advise against sudden encounters with solid objects at this speed.
My mental laugh is loud enough to make him flinch. Yeah, not a problem I’ll have often. Is your gift going to last the whole way down there?
Aye, should. ’Tis why I’m holding your hand. Close contact extends it.
Oh. I thought he was trying to comfort me.
That too, luv. None of this should ever have happened. Made a slight miscalculation and the incendiary device didn’t ash them all. Still, never imagined they would’ve gone after you when they couldn’t find me.
If they had your blood to use in order to find me, why didn’t they use it to find you?
He smiles over at me, lips fluttering. If not for my worry about Sam, the sight of that face would’v
e made me burst out laughing. I’m sneaky. Not quite to the point of Shadows, though. Those blokes elevate not being seen to a way of life.
Dalton’s trying to be whimsical, but his statement strikes me as sad. They really do need to stay out of sight to protect their existence. I suppose there might be a few places in the country where they could walk around in the open and people would assume them to be a body-modification freak, but if people see them, they’d usually erupt in panic.
We go up high enough to use the coastline for navigation purposes. For most of the flight, the directions are fairly simple: straight. I don’t remember where Los Angeles is exactly in California, but Dalton fills me in with a mental image of a map. It’s close to the southern border of the state near the coast. So, yeah. Long flight. My class got out at nine, figure the time spent feeding and dealing with that LA thug, then at home… we probably leapt into the air somewhere between ten-thirty and eleven.
If we’re doing over 200 miles an hour, the trip’s going to take like five hours. I think we’ll make it to LA before sunrise, but it’s going to be dangerously close. The idea that I’m flying to my death purely from the sun catching me off guard gnaws at me on the most primal level, but it’s irrelevant to protecting my little brother. Considering the outcome for failure and not trying is the same—Sam dies—it’s not even a choice. As soon as Blix offered a glimpse of hope, the only thought on my mind was getting there as fast as possible.
Hopefully, Dalton put a little more thought into the timing of our arrival than I did.
The ground races by below, details of the terrain unhidden by darkness my eyes ignore. We’re too high up to see much without zooming in, but I don’t bother. My attention remains locked on the horizon straight ahead where the black night sky touches the scrolling landscape of mostly grey, dotted here and there with splashes of glowing lights. Urgency to find Sam as fast as possible makes the trip feel ten times longer. Eventually, the seemingly endless spread of green gives way to mountainous spots with a long strip of brown on the left. The sky to my left—the east—is starting to look frighteningly blue in the distance.
We’re passing over Mendocino now. Almost to LA. Okay, not almost. Still a long way off, but we’re at least in California.
I bite my lip, worrying more about Sam than catching fire.
Dalton squeezes my hand, trying to be reassuring.
Almost an hour—or so I guess—later, he enters a gradual dive, towing me along. It’s impossible for me to tell from the air what’s where. There’s a ton of urbanization on the ground, all of it painfully radiant to my sensitive eyes.
We stop descending at maybe the height of a twenty-story building, flying level for another few minutes before Dalton slows to a stop so we’re hanging in midair above what I assume is the San Francisco downtown.
“Umm, you stopped?” I ask.
“Aye. The only advantage we have right now is that I’m sure they won’t be expecting us to arrive tonight.” Dalton gestures at Blix. “If he’s got some way to locate Sam, let’s do this quick.”
Blix gives us both a weird stare that seems like he’s annoyed and calling us stupid.
“What?” I ask.
He babbles gesturing wildly at the ground while babbling more.
“Sorry. I can’t understand you.”
The imp slaps himself on the forehead, emits a sigh, then waves for us to follow while zooming off ahead and a little to the left. Over the next few minutes, he leads us to an industrial district where he comes in for a landing on a three-story factory/warehouse type building, perched atop a half-height wall bordering the entire roof. Dalton and I land behind him.
Blix emits a rapid, whispery babble while pointing at another warehouse across a deserted four-lane street from the one we’re on. The other building’s windows have all been covered in black spray paint or plywood sheets and the parking area is overrun with weeds growing from cracks in the paving. Despite the overall look of disuse, a handful of newish cars sit parked near the wall. They all look souped-up and foreign. A group of twenty or so people hang out by the cars, only four of them women. At this distance, I can’t read if they’re vampires, humans, or thralls with any of my supernatural senses. However, at least a dozen are wearing similar clothes and tattoos as the vampires who harassed me in Seattle. Some could still be mortal thralls. The four women don’t look like gang members, so they’re likely snacks or girlfriends to the mortal thugs. Street racing cars and a big-ass pack of vampires.
Great. It’s the Fanged and the Furious.
“In there?” asks Dalton.
Blix nods.
“Oi. Hitting the front door is going to be messy.”
“Yeah.” I fold my arms. “But if that’s what it takes to get Sam and his friends out of there…”
Dalton puts a hand on my shoulder. “I know you’re talking entirely out of bravado there, luv. You full well know that rushing in is only going to get yourself killed. And Sam needs you not to do that.”
“I know our odds aren’t terribly good.”
He chuckles.
I glance at him. “What about that is funny?”
“Maybe you’ve inherited more from me than we thought. Brits are masters of understatement. ‘Not terribly good’ odds?”
“I’m pissed.”
“Aye. Me too. I think our best chance to get them out without a scratch is for you to take advantage of your unique relationship with the day. Go in there tomorrow while they’re stuck sleeping.”
My head’s shaking no before I even consciously think to do it. “I can’t leave the boys in there all night. There’s no way I’m going to leave them in there even a minute longer.”
“Sarah.” Dalton puts an arm around my shoulders and points the other one at the east. “We’ve got maybe fifteen minutes left before the sun gives us a smoking hot makeover. It would take us longer than that to fight our way through the crowd by the door, assuming we’d win that fight.”
Blix squeaks.
“Yes.” Dalton nods at him. “I am aware that’s a slightly audacious assumption.”
“Can you turn us invisible?”
Dalton sighs. “No. My abilities tend to make people look the other way or simply not notice me if I’ve got stuff to hide around. Won’t help much in an open parking lot.”
I gesture at Blix. “Was talking to him.”
The imp shakes his head.
“He could make a distraction. Maybe down the road? Blow up some transformers?” I point.
Blix gives a thumbs up, but makes a ‘waving off’ gesture. I take that to mean he could blow up transformers but doesn’t think it’s a good idea.
“Possible, but we don’t have the time to take advantage of that.” Dalton takes my hand again. “I’m afraid that Sam and his friends are unavoidably stuck where they are at least until you are able to get there in the daytime tomorrow. Provided, of course, the sun isn’t too strong for you.”
I hang my head, sighing. “Yeah. This is California after all.”
Dalton jumps into the air again, pulling me after him. He doesn’t seem to be too confused about where to go, though I do get the sense he’s checking options more than heading for a particular specific location. Two minutes after leaving the warehouse district, he swoops in for a landing next to a large one-story building that’s entirely painted black. A purple woman silhouette over the doors has cat ears and the words ‘Night Kittenz’ on it.
“You’re not taking me to a vampire kink parlor are you?”
Dalton laughs. “No, it’s just a night club. As far as I know, it’s run by mortals. However, it’s got underground rooms.”
My skin crawls at the thought of what must go on in places like that. But… we’re at roughly T-minus eight minutes until foom.
Dalton pulls out a set of lock picks to attack the front door, but Blix makes a flicking gesture, which opens the lock in an instant.
“Oi. Handy little blighter, aren’t ya?”
; Blix grins.
We step inside and re-lock the doors. The place has a wall-to-wall cat motif with almost an Egyptian cat-goddess thing going for it. Though, rather than desert browns and gold, it’s mostly shades of purple and black trimmed in silver. Dalton jogs across the giant room to a curtained door, zips past it, and leads me down a dark grey corridor to a stairwell flooded with the odor of sweat, foot, and fruitiness. I can’t tell if it’s spilled drink or stripper perfume.
The hairs on the backs of my arms stand on end as memories of my last attempt to sneak into a night club replay in my head. If I wind up in a dungeon cell again, someone’s losing body parts. We go around a switchback in the stairs and through a steel door with a push-bar. A basement corridor of black cinderblocks stretches out for a good distance, with openings on either side roughly the same size as doorways. None is an actual doorway, just openings in the cinder blocks with shower curtains on rods. Sure enough, the smell of sex hangs in the air, but it’s not strong enough to suggest people are here right now. There’s also an unfamiliar chemical tinge on every breath. I’ll assume that’s some kind of drug residue, but I’ve never—knowingly—been around that stuff, so have no idea what the heck it is.
“Heroin,” mutters Dalton. “And a bit of meth.”
“You take me to the nicest places,” I mutter.
We run to the first corner, hang a right, and go down the hall enough to reach the first room with an actual door. Inside, a plain square room holds a plush sofa and a queen-sized mattress on the floor. Two of the corners have leather wingback chairs on either side of a wooden table marked with condensation rings from glasses. In here, the aroma of stale beer overpowers the drugs.
Ordinary Problems of a College Vampire (Vampire Innocent Book 7) Page 22