Clicking his fingers, the Bakhtak vanishes in a puff off wispy smoke and Saffy stirs. Her eyes fling open and she jolts upright when she sees St. Damian sitting by her feet.
“Who are you?” she says. “Don’t make me hurt you!”
“Ease up.” I wave halfheartedly when Saffy spots me. “What do you remember?”
Her forehead crinkles, her gaze landing on Gribs. “What do you mean? We had rehearsals, then…” Her eyes flash. “Oh no. Oh, no no no no!” She puts her head in her hands and rocks, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Did I really do that? Colt, please tell me I didn’t! I… what am I?”
“A cat vampire,” I say matter-of-factly. “Or vampire cat. Tomato, potato.”
“What are you on about?”
“See these?” I lower my fangs and Saffy’s eyes widen. “I kill with these. I’m a monster, just like you.”
She rises from her seat, backs into the kitchen, and fumbles with a butcher’s knife. St. Damian and I exchange glances and burst out laughing.
“Saffy.” I join her in the kitchen and lean nonchalantly on the counter, cringing when my hand touches something sticky. I hate sticky. “Saff, these teeth of ours can do ten times the damage of that lousy knife.”
“I can’t be a vampire cat!” She clenches her jaw. “It’s not the way it’s supposed to be!”
“You’re still half-human, so it’s not all doom and gloom. It’s only half of that. Your choice; you want the doom or the gloom half?”
“Colt,” St. Damian joins us. “Don’t patronize the girl.”
“I wasn’t patronizing, I was teasing.”
“Then stop. Saffy, my name is St. Damian. I specialize in helping monsters, and occasionally demons, to fit into society as best they can. The council have been advised of your existence. We’ve never heard of an… a… we aren’t sure what to call you yet. Colt will protect you until the council sort something out. Both monsters and humans are going to be after you.”
“Little miss popular,” I say.
There’s an explosive bang, followed by an ear-piercing ring. The windows shatter and the cats scatter as St. Damian, Saffy, and I duck behind the kitchen counter.
“It’s an ambush!” Tyranna squeals.
“Hide the catnip!” Gribs says.
“Colt, Colt, Colt, Colt, Colt!”
“Tummy too full to run! Tummy too full to run!”
“Is it New Year’s already?”
Saffy covers her ears as bullets strike the counter. She doesn’t seem to hear the cats. Either she hasn’t harnessed that ability or simply doesn’t care.
I swear, if one of those bullets hits any of those cats, I am going on the biggest rampage known to man. I motion for them to come to me, so twenty-seven cats bolt into the tiny kitchen, each one fighting to sit on my lap. I feel so bad for them. Their little hearts race, their ears are pinned to their heads, and they’re trembling as if it were below zero.
“What the heck is going on?!” Saffy cries.
“It’s the frickin’ chasers,” St. Damian says. “That Brynn must have a lot of friends.”
“Brynn?” Saffy asks. “My sister?”
“She’s trying to kill you.” I check the perimeter. There is no way out of this one until those bullets stop. What do they have, like a bazillion machineguns out there?
“No, she’s not.” Saffy shakes her head, her bottom lip quivering. “She’s the only family I know. You’re just some actor. Or monster, or whatever the hell you say!”
“You’re welcome to test that theory.” I motion toward the never-ending bullets.
Saffy bites her lip, her eyes drowned in tears. It only makes the green sparkle more. “How do we get out?”
“Where’s the back door?” St. Damian asks.
“At the back,” Saffy says, half-condescending, half-serious. She’s really nailing the whole “half” thing. “Through the kitchen and near the bathroom.”
I check the direction, but there’s a figure by the back window. “No deal. Someone’s there.”
“Great.” St. Damian grunts. “Bakhtak. Show yourself.”
On command like a freakin’ genie, the Bakhtak appears. “Eww! So many cats!”
“Don’t you insult the cats!” I poke my finger.
Saffy doesn’t respond, or even flinch. She just stares at him vacantly, possibly in a state of shock. Maybe she’s not the best survivalist.
“Oooh. Got yourselves in a bit of a pickle, eh?” The Bakhtak flares his nostrils. “What’s the plan?”
“Can you put them to sleep?” St. Damian asks eagerly, yelping when a bullet pierces through the counter and skims his wrist, narrowly avoiding Tyranna. “Hurry!”
“No can do, sir. I can’t put this many people to sleep at once. That would involve me sitting on all of them simultaneously.”
Another bullet strikes through, wedging itself in the tip of my boot.
“THEN DO SOMETHING!” St. Damian yells. “NOW!”
“All right, all right, let me think!”
“NOW!”
It looks as if the Bakhtak contemplates leaving us in the lurch, understandably not liking the tone. Regardless, he snorts, and a blue mist trails out of his nose and into the air, changing the hue. We’re all a shade of blue, and the bullets are muted. The cats all drop like dominos and St. Damian’s head rolls several times before flopping onto his chest. Saffy’s eyes are heavy, but she remains alert.
“Did you just kill everyone?” I ask, my voice disturbingly loud in the silence. “Because I’ll have to torture you mercilessly if you’ve hurt these cats.”
“It’s a reality shift.” He darts his eyes. “Only monsters can pass through. It’s how I teleport and hide.”
“This is what you see when you teleport?”
“In your reality, it looks like I’ve vanished for a second when I zap to you. But really, I have to do this.” He toddles over to the other side of the counter. “See? Ain’t so glamorous. You think I teleport, but I’m actually walking just like everyone else.”
“Then why don’t we always see this when you do it?”
“Because I’ve opened the reality shift for you. Other monsters can teleport for real, like the ones who helped St. Damian get here. I haven’t got that ability. The humans and animals don’t even know time has passed when I’m in here. They go to sleep without knowing anything happened. Hurry up. I can’t hold this open forever.”
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Saffy says robotically, staring longingly at the sink.
“Be sick in the car. Grab St. Damian’s feet. Come on, don’t let us down!” The cats slide off me when I stand and take St. Damian under his arms. Saffy’s mouth twists, but she reluctantly lifts St. Damian’s feet and follows me through the front door.
This reality shift is weird. It’s heavy, like there’s too much gravity. The furniture bends, like it could collapse at any minute and the bullets stay frozen in midair.
“This means you can totally alter time in this state, Bakhtak,” I say, completely awestruck.
“No!” His eyes widen. “No, no, no, I am forbidden! This? Right here? Illegal. Straight off the chart! If it weren’t for St. Damian, I wouldn’t do it.”
“You really like him, eh?”
“Don’t you? He’s saved your butt more than he needed to.”
I shrug, kicking the door open. “I could take him or leave him. Right now I’m taking him.”
The blue hue continues outside. Bullets still float midair, but we can’t find the source. Wherever the chasers are, they’re hiding and they’re hiding pretty damn well.
I automatically stop at a silver Holden Astra. I don’t even know why I know the brand because I honestly don’t even care about cars. It’s one of those things I’ve just picked up while living with humans. “Is this the car?”
“Yes, yes! St. Damian rented it for us.” The Bakhtak jumps up to open the back door. “Hurry!”
Saffy and I swing St. Damian’s body into the ba
ckseat, inhaling swiftly when we knock his head on the door. “He’ll walk it off,” I say. “Oh cream and biscuits, I need to go back for the cats!”
“They’ll be fine,” the Bakhtak says. “The second the chasers see we’re gone, they’ll come after us.”
“But who will feed the cats? They like their fancy treats!”
“The little old lady next door, all right? Isn’t that right, Saffy?” The Bakhtak smirks. “Yes, I have seen that in her dreams. Yes, I’ve seen other things, too. Any more questions?”
Saffy pales. Then goes red. Then just resolutely gets back to the subject at hand, leaving me torn between asking him just what other things the Bakhtak has seen—and tearing him limb from ugly limb for such a gross invasion of privacy. “Yes, Barb feeds them when I’m out. But we’ll come back for them later, right?”
“We better,” I mutter. “If one of them so much as suffers PTSD…”
The blue hue lightens as the world bends around us and the faint zing of bullets loudens.
“Get in!” I yell.
Saffy slides over the hood and into the passenger seat, not bothering with her seatbelt. The Bakhtak joins St. Damian in the back as I rev the engine. He sits up, as if he hasn’t missed a beat, but looks confused by his surroundings.
Within seconds, the bullets are hitting the car, denting the sides as we speed off.
“They won’t follow us into the main street, will they?” Saffy says.
“I don’t know anymore,” I mumble, swerving all over the road due to lack of experience.
“Stop at the theater,” St. Damian says. “You have to get Jax and Lexi.”
“I’m not stopping this damn car!” I say.
“That’s an order, Colt! Their lives are in danger, and we need them to help protect Saffy! Pull over!”
Groaning, I wind down the window and stick my head out, barely slowing down. “Jax! Lexi! Get your butts out here, now!” I figure with Jax’s sensitive hearing, he’ll be able to hear me.
I pull up at the theater as a wounded Jax and distressed Lexi burst through the doors.
“Is there a war?” Lexi asks. “We heard, like, a firing squad!”
“Oh crap! Is that the Bakhtak? That goddamn Bakhtak?” Jax huffs, a pack of frozen peas resting on his right shoulder.
“Get in,” I say. “Chasers are coming.”
“What?!” Lexi screeches. “Chasers with an s? As in more than one? Let me in!” She pushes Jax out of the way and fumbles with the door handle, literally throwing herself in headfirst. Nursing his arm, Jax follows and before he even has a chance to close the door, I drive off.
“Where are we going? Colt? Colt? I’m FREAKING OUT! Colt! Where are we going?” Jax asks, fighting with Lexi over which seatbelt belongs to who.
“We don’t know where we’re going,” I say. “St. Damian, I’m concentrating on driving. Can you fill them in?”
“St. Damian is gone,” the Bakhtak says, his tiny body pressed up against the door as Lexi scooches over. “Part of his arrangement with another monster dictates impromptu departure. He couldn’t stay long. Looks like they teleported him back without even warning him.”
“DAMMIT!” I slap my hands on the steering wheel. “I can’t do this on my own!”
Saffy gently pats my shoulder, instantly mollifying me. “We’re not alone. We’ll get through this together.”
Surprised by Saffy’s sudden acceptance, I drop my shoulders that were up by my earlobes. Her calming tone doesn’t appease me for long.
“I always get sick on road trips…” Through the rearview mirror, Lexi’s cheeks turn alarmingly green.
“I didn’t grab the nightlight!” Jax cries, scratching at the window. “We need to go back! I need the nightlight!”
“Jax. Cup your hands. I’m gonna be sick. Jax? Jax? Colt, Jax is ignoring me!”
Great. My new community service? Babysitting inept monsters.
“A headache usually comes from a pain in the neck. And a pain in the neck often comes from people who are a pain in the butt.”
– Colt Harper: Esteemed Vampire Cat
hree hours of driving may as well be an eternity in the valley. The stupid car radio doesn’t work, the air conditioner barely coughs out fresh air, and Sean’s license expired a while ago, so I metaphorically pray that I don’t get pulled over. If I meet a cop, I’ll probably eat him.
“What time is it?” Lexi yawns, her head resting on Jax’s good shoulder.
“Midnight-ish,” I say, regretting my impromptu decision to throw my watch into the lake two weeks ago. It was itching me at the time, prompting an impulsive action, as is my nature.
“Can we stop?” the Bakhtak asks. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet, so I forgot he was even there. “Anywhere? Please? I can’t zap out of a vehicle going this fast, and I need to hold back the chasers. They could be anywhere.”
“Yeah, could we get a motel?” Saffy croaks. I thought she was fast asleep; turns out she’s just a good actress. “Please? I need to use the bathroom and stretch my legs. You’ll probably want to fill up soon, anyway.”
“There’s a town about forty minutes away,” the Bakhtak chips in.
“St. Damian said to keep driving.” My knuckles turn white as I grip the wheel.
“Not literally!” Saffy says, half-joking, half-irritated, because, you know her and halves these days. “It’s impossible to keep driving! We need to stop!”
“Yeah, pull over Colt,” Lexi chimes in. “I don’t know how much longer I can listen to myself whine.”
“Okay, okay. We’ll stop.” I’m too tired to argue, too annoyed to care. “We’ll regroup in town.”
There’s a silent consensus, until Saffy speaks up. “So, Lexi… what kind of monster are you?”
“She’s a tickle monster,” I mutter.
“A what?”
“A Leshi.” Lexi shoots me a disappointed glance in the mirror. “I have this… addiction. I need to tickle something until I kill it. Colt’s been giving me gum to help distract me, but I’m clean out.”
Saffy stares at the road up ahead, processing. “Your behavior makes so much sense now. Does that mean you’ve killed?”
“Saffy, we’ve all killed.” Her stupid beautiful face droops. “We’re monsters.”
“I haven’t killed.” Jax kicks my seat when he stretches. His kick is a whole lot stronger than a toddler’s on a plane. “Well, I turned my brother and… yeah, he’s killed a few civilians, so in a way, I’m responsible for their deaths. If only I had had a morsel of self-control… Oh, I wonder how his community service is going…”
“Blah, frigging blah.” I roll my eyes. “You are by far the worst monster I’ve ever encountered. Besides Lexi, of course. Be proud of your killings and wear each one like a badge of honor!”
There’s silence, despite my uplifting, inspirational speech. Saffy stares at me like I just announced I was responsible for Trump’s election.
“You actually like to kill?” Her fingers trail along the seatbelt, as if preparing for a quickie escape.
“Duh! Stupid question. We’re designed to hunt inferior species, aka humans. The sooner you accept that, the smoother your transition to monsterhood will be. Try to fight it, and you’ll end up like him.” I motion toward the anxious wolf in the back. The air is thick with tension, and I can’t blame them for it. Lexi twiddles her thumbs as the others stare awkwardly at their feet. I’m annoyed by the sudden wave of guilt that smacks me in the face. “I’m sorry, guys. It’s been a rough week, okay?”
“It’s been a rough existence,” Jax says. Through the rearview mirror, I spot him staring anxiously at the moon that’s nearly full. “Bakhtak? Why did you make me turn prematurely? I get you wanted revenge after the way I spoke to you on the plane, but now we’re all suffering.”
“Guys, this isn’t Dr. Phil. There’s to be no conflict, resolution, or tears while I’m driving.”
“I need to know!” Jax barks.
“Ease u
p,” the Bakhtak says, unfazed by Jax’s throaty growl. “I never meant for this to get so out of hand. It’s a bit of fun, all right? I feed on nightmares. It’s how I survive. That, and revenge tasted especially sweet.”
“I could’ve killed or turned someone!” It’s fascinating listening to Jax when he’s mad; I gain respect for him when he stands up for himself. Who woulda thunk? “You could’ve fed on anyone else! Because of you, I was tortured by a chaser!”
“Jax, bud, calm down,” I say, wary of the van behind us. “We’re a team now.”
“No!” He leans over a distressed Lexi to swipe at the Bakhtak. “I hate this little fat bastard! I hate him!”
There’s a gunshot, and I lose all control of the car. We swerve off-road, slamming into a ditch. I now understand the need for seatbelts. Turns out they kinda stop us from going through the window.
“Was it the chasers?” Lexi buries her face in her lap. “What do we do? We’re trapped!”
“Relax, the tire blew.” My blinks are getting heavy. “Screw it. Let’s sleep here tonight.”
“I’m not a good camper, Colt,” Lexi says. “Nature doesn’t bode well with me.”
The van drives past, not bothering to see if we’re okay. Talk about selfish. That’s something only a monster would do.
I leave the car and check the trunk, where a spare tire sits. I’m tempted to pretend it’s not there. I don’t know the first thing about changing tires and am mildly embarrassed about that. Colt Harper, the last of his kind who has killed kings and tyrants can’t unbolt a wheel. That doesn’t have a great ring to it.
Lexi jumps out and sticks her nose in the trunk. “Oh look! A spare! You gonna use it?”
“As a swing? For sure.”
“You know how to replace it?”
“Haven’t the foggiest.”
She grins and with a grunt, lifts the tire up and out. “Here’s the deal. I’ll replace this for you if you promise to take me to a meat-buying place. I could really go for lamb. And more gum, of course. Saffy is looking tastier by the minute.”
“A meat-buying place?” I have to think about that for a moment. “You mean a butcher’s?”
She clicks her fingers and points. “That’s the one! Yes! A butcher! Duh! Deal?”
Colt Harper: Esteemed Vampire Cat Page 9