by Angel Lawson
"Amelia?" I called, now on my hands and knees.
She was sat on the ground, shorts smeared with dirt from kneeling on the forest floor to vomit. Her pale arms were covered in purple bruises and she rubbed her hands absently over the painful welts. She looked at me with confusion and apprehension in her eyes.
"I'm so sorry. I promised you and I failed."
My knees pressed into the soft dirt and we sat in the quiet of the forest together. The energy between us had shifted, no longer filled with hope and possibility. Instead we were enveloped in the stench of death and fear.
"I won't hurt you. Let me take you back," I said in an even tone, unsure of what she was thinking. “I’ll carry you.”
“No.”
The word came out loud and forceful. She was in there, thank God.
I attempted to help her to her feet, but she flinched violently at my touch, so I distanced myself from her once she was stable. Her eyes clouded and she fell mute. The only sound came from our feet on the dirt and her erratically beating heart.
She stumbled through the forest, arms wrapped around her body. She couldn't see clearly, as it had grown too dark. I was forced to speak, point out a tree or branch. Once I caught her when she stumbled on a root. She recoiled on contact.
It was so far removed from our gentle touches last night. The excitement and flare were gone. I repulsed her.
I'd lost her.
I had her and I lost her.
We made it to the edge of the forest and we could see the lights on the field. The music had stopped and people were gathering their things to leave. I had to address the situation. I had no choice. It was for her safety and my own.
"Amelia," I said softly. “Speak to me.”
Her head tilted upwards and her eyes slid over mine but never fully focused.
I forced myself to be honest. I owed her that much. "I know what you saw back there was disturbing. But I really need you to keep what you saw to yourself. Caleb and Sasha are both still out there. I’m going to catch them. Then I’ll destroy them."
She swallowed deeply and finally spoke, her voice was shaky and low. "Who would I tell Grant? What would I say? That I'm being hunted by a pack of deranged monsters? That deep in these woods you left the ravaged remains of a missing little girl? Mutilated by…” she swallowed. “Do I tell them I finally thought I found the man of my dreams and he's…" She gasped for air as the words and tears rolled down her face. “Not human?”
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. The man of her dreams? Me?
Amelia steeled herself for a moment. She wiped her eyes with the back of a dirty hand and I watched as her chin jutted out in determination. "I'm not telling anyone anything, Grant. Your secret is safe with me, but promise me one thing."
“Anything.”
“Don’t come looking for me again. I quit. I’m done. You’ll have to find someone else.”
She pushed forward, limping and holding her neck. From my spot in the dark I watched her go, barely holding on by a thread. Like the feral nature controlling Jenna something deep down and instinctive told me she belongs with me—to me. I held back, fulfilling my promise to keep her safe. She stepped into the crowd, the overhead lights reflecting off her hair like a halo. Without even the smallest glance back she disappeared and I knew, no matter how painful, this was right. She was right about everything—but one.
I’d never find someone else.
Epilogue
She knew I would come.
Cowards have their own particular aroma, making it easier to track her down. The further she traveled the more distinct the trail she left through the forest became. In a valiant effort to throw me off track she circled and wove erratically through the woods. Unfortunately for Sasha the pain and loss I suffered seemed to heighten my senses. In a grove of hardwoods, I climbed and waited.
Dusk lowered and Sasha broke through the trees. As predicted she runs beneath me, oblivious, and I pounce—claws out. Teeth bared.
Any mercy I’d shown in the past was gone.
“I told you to make this stop,” I said. She lay beneath me, arms and legs pinned down. My sharp blade pressed against her neck.
“There’s no stopping him,” she said. “None. Not until you’re all dead.”
She kicked and fought but I had the upper hand. She knew either I would kill her or he would—mate or not. She’s lost another fledgling and she failed to bring him Amelia. Killing her would be a kindness.
I plunged the blade into her gut and a small smile flickered on her lips, her chest heaved. She enjoyed this. Like her mate it was all part of a twisted game. “Do it! This way I die a martyr for the cause—and his vengeance will be twice as powerful. Beware, Grant Palmer, that little pet will be his before this is over, and the things he’ll do to her…” she laughed, choking on her death. “You’ll regret the day you crossed him.”
Gripping her throat, Sasha’s eyes bulged and I whispered close to her ear, “No one touches what is mine. Not my city, my family or my girl.”
Flinging the blade into the trees I tore at her flesh with my bare hands, until her body scattered across the forest like discarded waste. When there was nothing left I stood over the remains and brushed the death off my hands.
There are some things even a vampire can’t come back from.
Acknowledgements & Stuff
In 2008 I’d just started writing and showing my work to others. I had an idea and mulled it over for a while, sharing it with close friends. “It’s about a vampire who’s kind of like Batman—or maybe more like Angel. He’s a vigilante, working quietly to help the people in his city, yet isolated and lonely. He has OCD and I have this great idea for a scene where the love interest confuses his vampirism for being gay.”
They all pretty much told me this was a terrible idea. Like, “Huh, Angel, that sounds great, except no one will want to read it.”
They were right. No one did want to read it. Not at first, but I had a vision and a stubborn streak and I did it anyway. Apply those same characteristics to the last 6 years and you pretty much can sum up my entire writing career.
Creature of Habit is one of those stories that required a lot of help on. Back then and now. The book above is greatly altered from the original work (Book 2 is even more so). I bugged the crap out of anyone that would listen to me brainstorm and plot. I owe them much. All I’ve got is a thank you and some eternal fan-girling. Author Beth Bolden is one of the ones that told me it sounded like a terrible idea. We laugh about it now. I love her for her honesty. I can always go to her for the truth. Author Bev Elle encourages me in all my projects, and trust me, encouragement is worth more than you can even imagine. Vanessa C, has been with me through all the stories, all the books and does the dirty work with grammar that I am unable to do. Alicia N. listens to me talk about all of this over cheese dip and Diet Cokes (and margaritas) which is invaluable. I drag her to book festivals and panels and all the other stuff no one else wants to do. Rochelle Allison, Author TM Franklin, Elizabeth Vincent & Annie J (street sleepers) have provided unwavering support, listening ears and friendship.
There are others I want to thank, people I don’t communicate with much anymore but please know they are the reason this book ever happened. They are why I fell into fandom and embraced a new creative outlet. Barb H, LolaShoes (for bringing me to, and introducing me to the wonders of SDCC way back when), Wime09, Kirsten A, Tammy N, Kristen and Jess (Jandco’s work always inspired me to be better), Halojones (omg halo.jones. *sigh*), Author Kira Gold, Jessica N, Elaine L (we were right), Cartnee, Claire G, Jan R (the always, always supportive Jan!), Valerie R, Amy F, Lorena, Audrey, Autumn (a shout out to April S. for some last minute edits!) and all the others I know I’m missing (because I suck, not because anyone is forgettable.)
Of course I say thank you to AG, because obviously.
*For the record, Captain America beats them all. Also, you can find me on twitter @theangellawson or on facebook at Angel Lawson or
Angel Lawson Author. Come say hi. I do have cookies but they’re gluten free.