“Because of Mom and Dad.” She shrugs. “They love to see me play piano and be involved in church. If I can keep the two separate, then everyone will be happy.”
“That’s dumb!” I snap. “Just be yourself. Your parents have to love you.”
Megan shakes her head as tears rise up again. “You don’t get it. I have to make them love me.”
I sigh. There’s no way she’s listening to me. I can’t wait to get home and... “Aunt Kate! Megan, Aunt Kate is out in the parking lot! Go get her! Tell her my arm is bleeding again, but that’s it’s not bad. Don’t forget to say that it’s not bad, or she’ll panic!”
Megan dries her eyes and dashes off, and I’m only too happy to wait for everyone to come back before moving. My head is ringing, and my arm is throbbing.
I’m tired of this. I’m tired of being afraid and hurt. I’ve had it with being too weak to stand up to bullies like Tyler. And I’m sick of always worrying about how much blood I’m losing.
I remember Liam right before he attacked me. With his long fangs and that intense desire in his eyes, he looked more like a wild lion with its eyes on the kill. I remember the strength he had as he ripped the axe out of my hands. There was no weakness in him.
If I was like that, I wouldn’t have to be the victim anymore, and I wouldn’t have to worry about blood.
Everyone knows vampires do some really bad things, but as corny as it sounds, I could control the bad parts of being a vampire and use my powers for good.
And what about the demons?
Maybe I’d never see them again if I become a vampire. Even if that didn’t change, I wouldn’t have to be afraid of them.
I could fight back.
I hear footsteps and lift my head to see Mr. Harris trotting down the hallway. He stops next to me and looks down at me with a strange smile.
“Alone, are you? Good. I’ve needed you like this for a long time now.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Wild West
Mr. Harris crouches down. I pull back in fear that surprises me. The darkness lurches inside of me, returning with a vengeance.
Why should I be afraid of you? You go to our church after all.
“What do you want?” I ask. I hate being on the floor helpless.
Mr. Harris sits beside me. It does nothing to calm me, but I stay where I am. He clears his throat, looks around, and whispers.
“I know something weird is going on,” he starts. “And it’s gotten stronger, more apparent, since you arrived here.”
“What do you mean?” I want to act like I don’t know anything. Well, nothing about demons or vampires, but I think I’m failing miserably. I struggle to sit up.
Mr. Harris stops me with a firm hand on my good shoulder. “Your neck could be broken. Want to end up paralyzed?”
I don’t, so I comply.
“There’s no time to tell you the whole story, but my great-great uncle disappeared during the Gold Rush days. As he was very close to his mom, they couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t contact her unless he was killed. She sank into despair and grief, pleading with her other son to go look for him. After his children no longer needed him, he followed her wishes, although he knew it was a fool’s errand.”
Why are you giving me yet another boring history lesson? And why is it such a secret?
“He went to Florence, knowing it was the last place his brother had gone. But my family never heard from him again. Their mother died after that.” He stops for a while. “Grandpa went, too, after we were older, and never came back.”
“My father refused to continue the search,” Mr. Harris continues. “However, I couldn’t resist a mystery. I studied everything I could about my history and Florence.
He pauses and glances around as if he is afraid someone might overhear us. After a few seconds, he continues at a much lower tone.
“I have come to some conclusions. Something, not human or animal, killed my ancestors in Florence. And not just my family, although mine was the only one foolish enough to go looking for it.”
The door to the parking lot slams open, and footsteps pound down the hall.
Mr. Harris leans closer. “I dare not use my real name or go to Florence for proof, and honestly what evidence of my suspicions about what happened to my family would there be after all this time, for I fear they will kill me as well. But if I’m right, there’s going to be a war.”
“Why do you…?”
Before I can finish my questions, Mr. Harris pulls back as Aunt Kate rushes up to me with a look of concern. Megan lags behind her. Aunt Kate drops to her knees, and I work up a smile.
“I’m fine.” I try to get up. “Everyone is just overreacting.”
“Lay down,” she snaps. “What happened?”
I look at Megan to explain.
It was your friends. You tell them.
She gives Aunt Kate the same spiel she did to Mr. Harris. By the time she finishes, the school nurse runs up. She wraps my arm with a bandage and checks my pupils with a light.
“I’m calling the ambulance.” She rocks back on her heels and talks to Aunt Kate like I’m not there. “He needs to go to the hospital because of his blood issue. I’d like Doctor Roberts to look at him to make sure everything is okay.”
“No!” I struggle to sit up. Aunt Kate puts a hand on my good shoulder and pushes a bit on it. “Aunt Kate, I don’t need that! Please! I can’t go into an ambulance. I’m fine! Honestly.”
Aunt Kate knows why I hate ambulances because of watching them take Mom away. She turns back to the nurse. “Is that necessary? We’re not in an emergency situation. I’ll take him right over.”
The nurse considers this option for a minute.
I turn to her. “Please. I can’t go in an ambulance. It’s not because I’m embarrassed. I can’t. I’d rather die!”
The darkness churns in me as I recall the first ambulance ride I took. I see Mom’s lifeless hand on the stretcher when the EMTs whisk her out of the house and into the vehicle. The sirens pierce my soul as I watch them work hopelessly.
“Please,” I whisper and hate myself for begging.
“Fine,” the nurse says. “I don’t like sending him with you, but he’s going to be okay. Do not just take him home, do you understand?”
Aunt Kate nods. “No worries about that! We’re headed straight for the hospital.”
Mr. Harris rounds up a wheelchair and helps me into it. My whole body feels like it’s been trampled on, so I don’t mind. Megan follows us to the car and watches while we drive away. I don’t wave.
The hospital visit is horribly boring, and before long, I’m back at our house. We watch movies to fill the silence until I go to bed.
In the morning, I get out of bed, feeling sore all over. I groan and make my way downstairs, my arm and head pounding. I stumble into the kitchen and find Ryan and Aunt Kate buzzing around. Bacon is sizzling on the stove while Aunt Kate is making scrambled eggs. Ryan is busy shredding cheese.
Egg burritos!
I slide onto a stool at the bar across from Ryan. Aunt Kate pours a cup of coffee and pushes it to me.
“Good service,” I say as I take the cup. “I’ll write a good review.”
Ryan slides a cutting board with a knife and some tomatoes on it over to me. I ignore it until he nudges it closer. I take a sip of the coffee and begin to work.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Like I’ve been run over by your truck,” I reply.
“Not a semi?” Aunt Kate asks with a grin.
“Cody’s not that strong,” I say wryly and turn to Ryan. “It seems like I’m not tough enough for your Wild West. Guess I’m going to have to man up.”
He laughs. We settle down to breakfast like we used to before my accident with the axe.
After Ryan downs two burritos and several pieces of bacon, he leans back with a cup of coffee in his hand. “Kate and I were talking about looking at some horses. Probably be gone for most of t
he day. Would you like to stay here or come with us?”
I could slip up to Florence and track down Catherine to get some answers of what is going on.
“Um.” I hesitate as if I’m debating the choices. “I feel horrible. I’d rather stay here.”
“I’m not sure about this now,” Aunt Kate says. “What if something happens?”
“I promise not to chop any wood.” I try to make a joke, but no one laughs. “And Cody doesn’t know where I live. I’ll be fine.”
“We were planning on taking Kate’s car,” Ryan continues. “If something did happen, would you be okay driving the truck?”
I nod. “I’m sure I could handle it.”
Aunt Kate doesn’t look terribly happy, but our plans are settled. Ryan wants to be back by dinner and mentions the Mexican restaurant.
I watch them drive to the main road before I get dressed. Just the act of pulling my shirt on hurts, and my head is fuzzy, making it hard to concentrate on much.
But as I think about being in Florence again, my heart races. The demon presence is much more powerful there. I smooth down my hair and grab the keys to Ryan’s truck.
I can’t let my fear of the demons stop me. I need to be stronger, and Rob might answer a few questions I have about what he is. Once I have some power to stand up to the demons, I’ll get rid of them.
I climb into the truck, still debating if this is a good thing to do. Misgivings circle my head as I sit behind the steering wheel with the key in the ignition.
If I do find Rob, he might not be able to resist the smell of blood. Liam may appear and resume his attack.
I pull the key out the ignition and open my door to get out. This is a dumb idea. But then I pause again, my left foot hanging in the air.
If I see Catherine, I could get some answers from her.
I pull my foot in and slam the door shut. With a vengeance, I shove the key into the ignition. The truck roars into life. I glance at my rearview window out of habit and jump when I see someone behind the truck.
Megan.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
A Clown
Megan marches to the passenger side and raps on the window. I lower the window, noting that she has overdone her makeup again. Her long dark hair curls and hangs over her shoulders.
She waits until the window is down before talking. “Where are you going? I thought you were hurt too badly to move.”
“I hurt everywhere, thanks to your darling prince and his lackeys, but I’m not going to stay in bed all day,” I answer and then shake my head. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on you,” she snaps. From her tone, I assume she hasn’t forgiven me for some of the things I said. “But you didn’t answer my question. Where are you going?”
“None of your business,” I reply. “I’m going to see some friends.”
“You’re going back to Florence, aren’t you?” She seizes the door. “You’re going to try to find those people you saw, right?”
Am I that easy to figure out?
I shake my head. “Nope. Going to the library.”
“Ha. You’ve been here long enough to read everything in the library.” She thinks for a minute. “I’m coming.”
“No, you are not,” I protest.
She doesn’t listen. Instead, she yanks the door open and climbs in. I watch, horrified, as she puts on the seatbelt.
“Get out!” I order.
“You said I look like a clown.” She points a finger in my face. “You owe me something. Besides, I want to know what I saw in the shadows that night last year. Maybe the people you met in Florence will know something.”
I want to throw her out of Ryan’s truck. But I don’t. I can’t react how Dad would. I can’t let the darkness take over.
Instead, I ease off the brake and shove the truck into reverse, carefully backing out of its parking spot. The truck lurches and jerks as I maneuver around to face the main road. My arm throbs when I pull the stick shift, but I refuse to acknowledge it.
Megan’s car is parked on the side of the driveway. I’m tempted to make her get back in her car and leave, but I don’t know if I can. I continue to inch the truck to the road and feel bad for teasing Aunt Kate about her slow driving.
This thing feels like a semi.
I’m sure the pine needles on the trees at the side of the driveway will scratch the truck as we pass, but they don’t reach us. I hope I don’t hurt his truck.
I stop at the main road, wipe my hands on my jeans, and look both ways. For the first thirty miles, the road will be paved. That’s the part I’m the most worried about. I don’t want people to see us heading to Florence, yet with the campground and a lot of hiking trails, it will be almost impossible to be unseen.
I put the truck into first and lurch onto the road. Although Aunt Kate would highly disapprove, I don’t use my turn signal.
Megan bobs back and forth as I try to remember how to work the two pedals. She glances over at me.
“You have driven a stick shift before, right?”
“It’s been a while,” I admit.
“Really?” she says sarcastically. “But you’re so good at it.”
“You want to give it a go?” I snap.
“I don’t drive stick shift. Never have. Never will,” she declares and braces while I attempt second gear.
“But you’re from Idaho, aren’t you? Didn’t everyone here grow up driving stick?”
“Coeur D’Alene. Not here. You’re from Chicago. Does that mean you have to... have to...” She pauses, trying to think of something we’re famous for. “Have to like baseball?”
“Yes, it does. And I do.” It’s a dumb answer, but I’m sick of this conversation.
She must be, too, because she falls into silence and stares out the window.
I work my way through the gears as we pass the houses and the campground. We don’t see anyone. Even the campground is quiet. I take a deep breath at my good luck.
But I’m not lucky. My whole life has been a list of unexplainable incidents, odd statistics, and tragedies everyone else reads about in the news. If there is such a thing as luck, I’m the king of bad luck.
The trip goes faster this time. As we pass the site of the murder, Megan gawks like there’s still something to see. I refuse to look at it and think about Catherine instead.
We bounce over the huge bumps in the road and navigate the ruts big enough to tip the truck if I hit them too fast. Before I know it, the trees open up to the meadow, and we are at Florence.
It doesn’t take long for the darkness in me to start churning. It’s more intense this time, like a being of its own will, clawing to get free. I scan the treetops, but I don’t see any demons.
I ignore the signs that give a brief history of Florence and Boot Hill as we creep past. I park in the grass by the cabin where I first met Rob and Catherine. This is where it all started. Perhaps it will continue from here.
Megan had better not wreck it for me.
I turn off the truck. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”
“Me? What would I do that was stupid?”
I ignore her because something moves in the shadow of the cabin. Catherine stands in the shade of the trees. Her long red hair is loose and pushed forward over her shoulders, reaching to her waist. She catches my eye and smiles shyly.
“Who’s that?” Megan whispers.
I realize I’m waving madly and then stop, feeling my cheeks growing hot. “A friend. Just stay here.”
The truck dings, reminding me that the keys are still in the ignition as I step out. Megan gives me a look with her eyebrows raised. But she stays in the truck.
My heart is racing while I approach the cabin. I don’t know if it’s the darkness inside or seeing Catherine again. I don’t care. I want to hear her voice and see her smile. I reach the cabin when she steps deeper into the forest, away from me. I stop.
Doesn’t she want to see me?
She doesn’t
move but watches me carefully. I feel like I’m approaching a beautiful, wild animal.
“Hi,” I say. I stay where I am.
I toss around for a good question to ask her. I can’t ask about school, movies, or sports that she might like. The silence continues as I try to think of something to say.
“I’ve been hoping you’d come back.” Her voice is sweet and smooth, and her brown eyes are warm with no trace of the anger from last time. “Would you like me to show you around?”
My heart is pounding in my ears. “Yes.”
She laughs, pleased at my response, and turns away. “Follow me.”
As we move away from the cabin, I hear a truck door slam.
Megan!
I forgot all about her. Catherine studies Megan with a look that I can’t decipher. Then she smiles at Megan.
“You can come, too.” Catherine’s grin is more eager. She leads the way and then says over her shoulder, “I have some friends who will love to meet you.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Glitter
Catherine leads away from the cabin, farther southwest than I explored last time. She slips from the shadows of the trees without a sound. I follow behind her, feeling like a big oaf tramping through the woods. Megan trails behind. I don’t look back.
I have to get you to talk.
I stop when I have a good view of the meadow. “Tell me about this place.”
She stands in the shade of the trees and ignores me to study the long, narrow meadow. Green grass as tall as my knees marks the path of the creek. Megan comes up behind us and crosses her arms. She’s not happy about what’s happening. I’m not happy she’s following us.
Catherine motions to the meadow. “Florence filled this meadow with buildings and people. They worked hard every second of daylight. Men didn’t waste time when it came to their quest for gold. If they were in town, they rushed through their errands to get back to the claims.”
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