I’m not sure what hurts more. My head hitting the wall at the bottom of the stairs or the trunk smashing me in the nose.
Mrs. Carter yells in alarm. “Girls! Are you okay?”
“Ow,” says Michelle.
The trunk grinds into me as Ashley scrambles over it to the living room floor.
Ashley squats and lifts the trunk up enough for me to crawl out from under it.
“You’re bleeding!” says Mrs. Carter, running over to grab my arm like I’m a five-year-old who just ate sidewalk after falling off a bike. “Come here and let me have a look at that.”
“Oh, no!” gasps Ashley. “Your tooth fell out.”
A poke with my tongue finds a gap in the front of my mouth. Ugh. “I’ll be okay, just need some darkness real quick.”
“What?” asks Mrs. Carter. “Your nose looks broken.”
I politely extricate myself from her grasp and hurry to her basement stairs. “Be right back.”
Within seconds of me being totally shielded from sunlight, my vampiric nature kicks in and my body regenerates. Now I’m not sure what counts as the weirdest sensation ever. It’s a close call between a tooth spontaneously growing out and the aftereffect of my eating ice cream.
When all the tingling and itchiness stops, I head back out into the house.
“There. All better.”
Ashley hands me a paper towel. “You’ve got blood on your chin.”
I dab it. “Hey, make you a deal. Let’s wait to put the trunk back upstairs until it’s dark, and I’ll do it, okay?”
“Deal.” She nods.
Mrs. Carter stares at me in awe. “That’s amazing. Your tooth is even back.”
“Thanks for being worried about me.” I hug her. “But we really are in a hurry.”
“All right. Be careful.”
Ashley clamps a hand over Michelle’s mouth. “Don’t say it again.”
Michelle laughs.
We lug the trunk outside and stare at a choice between Michelle’s Kia Soul and Mrs. Carter’s Camry. I don’t even consider her dad’s BMW. He’d never let us touch it, nor would the trunk fit in it.
Wait. The BMW is here. That means it’s Saturday. I think. Or the guy took a day off.
“What day is it?” I ask.
“Saturday,” say my friends at the same time.
“Awesome. Wait here.”
I run home and find Mom in the family room setting up a canvas for her oil painting hobby.
“Hey, Mom, can I borrow the Yukon for a little while?” I walk up behind her.
She jumps and nearly drops a box of paint tubes. “Gah!”
“Sorry.”
Mom puts a hand to her chest and breathes hard. “Please don’t sneak up on me.”
“I wasn’t trying to. Just in a hurry.”
“Why do you need the truck? Can’t you fly? And you’re wearing your shoes in the house.”
“Only inside for a minute; not worth taking them off.” I shake my head. “Daylight takes my powers away, remember. I’m just a normal person at the moment. Need a big vehicle for a little while.”
“What are you up to?”
“No time to explain in detail. Dalton’s stuck somewhere and the sun’s going to fry him. Need space to move Ashley’s trunk.”
“Dalton?” she asks. “Oh, all right.” She glances at the unopened paint. “I could drive you.”
She is damn protective of her truck. Maybe it’s not a bad idea, in case the sun gets in my eyes or something. The last thing I want is to be responsible for hurting my friends in a crash. “Okay. Good idea.”
Mom sets her paints down, grabs her keys off the peg, and heads out to the front to get her shoes. The sibs swarm over and chorus-beg to go with us. I’m about to suggest it a bad idea, but Mom makes them promise to stay in the car.
Ugh. Well, I guess she wants to keep an eye on them. Damn, I hope this doesn’t get dangerous. Then again, it is broad daylight (or as close to it as the Seattle area usually gets). We all troop out to the Yukon and Mom drives the four houses down the street to Ashley’s.
I hop out and help my friends lug the giant trunk over to the back doors.
“So, where is he?” asks Mom.
“Umm. I’m not sure. This telepathy thing isn’t like GPS. He’s sending me feelings and I can’t really talk back when I’m out here.”
On a three-count, we haul the trunk up and shove it into the Yukon.
“Get in the trunk,” says Ashley.
“You know that’s a real good idea.” Michelle pokes me. “If your powers come back inside, then you know it’ll work for Dalton.”
“It’s not safe to get in a trunk,” says Mom.
“Wouldn’t want her to suffocate,” deadpans Sierra.
Mom flinches.
“Okay.” I crawl into the back, step into the trunk, and pull the lid down. As soon as it’s closed, I feel ‘whole’ again. “Yeah, it works.”
There you are.
“Hey, we’re on the way. Where are you?”
No bloody idea what the address is. Concentrate on my link and I’ll lead you to me.
“Great. This would work a lot better flying.”
I wonder if I could fly inside the box, and if the box would in turn fly since I’d be carrying it from the inside. Wow, talk about messing with people. Giant steamer trunk cruising along.
“Umm, go toward Seattle,” I say. “I can kinda feel a direction, but it won’t help much until we’re closer.”
Since it’ll be a while before we’re in the area, I open the lid and sit up to be social. Mom asks, so I give her a more detailed explanation that Dalton got himself trapped somewhere and he asked me for help since I can go out in the sunlight. All I know for sure is that he’s in a construction site.
“Hang on.” I duck down and close the lid. “Dalton? Is the site active? How are we going to just walk in and get you?”
There’s no one here. It kinda looks like a construction site. Might be abandoned.
“Okay.” I pop up. “He said there’s no one there.”
The ride is miserably hot for me, but fortunately not too long. For a Saturday, the traffic is on the light side. Once we get nearer the city, I hide in the dark once more and try to reach out for a feel to Dalton’s location. Initially, there’s nothing, but after a few seconds, I get a fix.
“Took me a bit, but I think I got him. Try to head left. He feels like ten o’clock.”
It follows the chain of Transference. The elder can find their progeny, but the progeny can’t see their elder unless we allow it.
“Oh, that’s not fair.”
Few things in life are.
“But I’m not ‘in life.’”
Even fewer things after life are fair.
Ugh. Wonderful.
The feeling of direction begins to slide around me to the left. “We’re passing him. Turn left when you can,” I yell from within the trunk.
Braking makes me slide to the front, mushed into the wall.
“Red light,” says Mom.
Sierra and Sophia get into a conversation about a theoretical video game involving unicorns, in the sense of Sophia wanting one and Sierra considering learning how to make it. Sam suggests the unicorns need rocket launchers. Ashley gets in on the conversation once the U-word comes up. Wow, she sounds like a little kid. Michelle and my Mom carry on a parallel conversation about law school, ignoring the fluffery going on behind them.
And… I’m in a box.
I roll against the side when we take the turn, and my VPS navigation tells me Dalton’s almost straight in front of me. “Keep going this way.”
A few minutes go by, and the sense of him glides off to the right, fast.
“We’re close. He’s on the right now.”
“There,” says Michelle.
“That looks like a demolition site, not a construction site,” says Mom. “It’s marked no trespassing.”
“Tell that to Dalton,” says Sierra.
<
br /> “Ooo, he’s gonna get in trouble,” singsongs Sophia.
“No he’s not. He’s a vampire,” replies Sam. “They don’t have to listen to people laws.”
“Exigent circumstances,” says Michelle. “Trespass or die.”
Mom laughs.
Dalton feels quite close. “Yeah, this has to be it.”
We stop, and I pop up out of the trunk. Mom’s pulled off the road onto a dirt lot in front of a chain link fence surrounding a nine or ten story building that’s mostly open on one side and covered with tarps. I can’t tell if it’s being built or torn down hunk by hunk, though the padlock on the gate is rusty and doesn’t appear to have been opened in a long time.
“Looks scary in there,” says Sophia.
“You are not going in.” Mom shifts into park. “I’m not sure I want to let Sarah either.”
I shut the trunk and crawl over my siblings to the rear left side door. “I’ll be okay. We’re not going in there to mess around. In and out like Dad at the mall.”
Mom chuckles.
Ashley and Michelle follow me around to the back, and we unload the trunk.
I’m melting in my sneakers. Holy crap it’s hot. The clouds have opened a little and it’s starting to trigger my ‘oh shit’ reaction, but not so much I can’t force my way past it. Pretty sure I know how soldiers in Iraq feel now. Like 130 degrees in the shade. But at least I’m not carrying tons of crap.
“Wow, you okay, Sare?” asks Michelle. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“No, I’m really not ‘okay,’ but I can cope. Come on, let’s get this done.”
Please, luv, says Dalton in my head.
I grab the trunk and lift one end. “Hold on to your fish and chips, we’re almost here.”
Ashley squeals and rushes to lift the other end before I drag it. “Careful, please.”
“Sorry.” I take a few breaths to calm down. “I think I’m picking up on Dalton’s mental state and it’s making me agitated.”
Agitated is a lovely British way of putting it.
“Huh?” I ask no one in particular.
We’re rather fond of understatement. Please, carry on.
Michelle scouts around and finds a spot where the chain link has separated from the pole enough that we can get the trunk inside. Ashley holds the mesh back, making uneasy noises as she worries about scratches. She lets go of the fence after we slip in, and it slaps against the pole, startling Michelle.
“Yo, we’re going to get in serious trouble if we get caught here.” Michelle looks around.
“If you’re worried about your law career, you can wait out by the car… I won’t mind.”
“Nah. Already in here. Besides, this shit is heavy enough empty. Once your boy’s in it, it’s gonna be way worse.”
I’m not sure how Dalton would feel about being called ‘my boy,’ but she’s got a point. “Thanks.”
With daylight roasting me, I don’t have any idea where he is. All my vampiric energy is going toward preventing my instantaneous ignition. We lug the trunk across an open area half parking lot, half dirt, crisscrossed with broken pipes, thick wires, and concrete forms, a good number of which are broken.
“I think I hear something,” says Ashley.
“What?” I ask.
“Pitiful whimpering.” Ashley points off to the left. “Over there.”
“That’s probably him.” I haul my end of the trunk in that direction.
A moment later, gasps and moans of pain reach my ears. Sure enough, we find Dalton hiding inside a stack of concrete sewer pipe sections, in the bottom row. Every like six feet, a thin band of sunlight invades the dimness. Smoke from the steady roast of indirect sunlight surrounds him and wafts up from the end of the opening near us. I imagine the rays leaking between seams in pipe segments are like laser beams to him. His face is greyish and his eyes glow yellow, a bit like me when my mother barged in, but a little calmer.
“Wow. You look like a homeless dude,” I say.
He scoffs. “You’d not look much better half cooked.”
“Smells like a barbecue,” says Michelle. “Only with spoiled meat.”
“Charmed.” Dalton grumbles.
She’s got a point. The air is rather full of burning flesh. “Umm. Okay. Let’s stand this thing up on end. He can run into it and knock it over, and the lid will close fast.”
He whines.
“Crawling out and climbing in is worse,” says Ashley. “Sarah’s right. You’re going to have to deal with a second or two of sunlight.”
“Oh, bollocks.” He hangs his head. “All right.”
Michelle and I stand the trunk up on end and get it as close to the pipe as we can.
Ashley holds on to the lid to keep it from swinging in the way. “Guys, please be careful.”
“This trunk is older than hell, Ash,” says Michelle. “It’s been on boats. It’s already scuffed up.”
“I know.” Ashley bites her lip. “But I don’t wanna make it worse.”
“Okay.” I peer through the gap at Dalton. “Come on.”
“Oh, you and your Innocent blood. Make it look so easy.” He fakes a spiteful look.
“Ha. Ha. Still feels like I’m on fire. I’d rather go back inside.”
“Dude. Just do it.” Michelle taps her foot, looking around.
Dalton braces himself, takes a few deep breaths, and… chickens out. “Sarah, be ready to jump on that lid, all right?”
“I got you.” I move to stand beside where the trunk will fall if he hits it hard enough.
Michelle looks around again. “Can we like do this before the cops show up?”
“Right.” Dalton darts forward, yelping in pain twice as he passes through two seam gaps of sunlight.
He hits the trunk in a cannonball pose, knocking it over onto its bottom. I dive for the lid, but it slams closed on its own faster than I can push it.
“Oh, bloody hell,” moans Dalton inside the box. “That fecking hurt.”
Smoke seeps through the gap between the lid and the bottom.
“Ugh.” Ashley frowns. “It’s gonna smell like bad hamburgers.”
“Ahh.” Dalton exhales. “It’s a bit cramped, but this is much better.”
Michelle tugs on the handle, but doesn’t move the box much. “Ugh. Heavy. Hey, can’t we just leave him here until nighttime?”
“I’d really rather not,” says Dalton. “Certain parties are likely to be looking for me here once the sun goes down.”
I bow my head, staring at my sneakers. “Dalton, what did you get me involved with?”
“Nothing,” he says, his voice bright with a smile. “Other than transporting me around. Much obliged by the way. You are an amazing girl.”
“She’s so damn sweet she’d feel bad if Scott sprained his wrist when he stabbed her,” mutters Michelle.
“I think not.” I say, scowling.
Ashley moves to the end of the trunk, grabbing both handles on that side. “We can do it. He’s kinda skinny.”
I take the left handle on the ‘walking backward’ side. Michelle grasps the other.
“On three,” says Ashley.
We groan and haul the trunk off the ground, then shuffle at a laborious pace toward the way out.
“If it was dark, she could carry this thing herself,” grunts Michelle.
“If it was dark, we wouldn’t have to put Dalton in a box,” I gasp between breaths.
Now this is more like being a soldier in Iraq. Suffering blistering heat while carrying heavy-as-hell things around the desert. All that’s missing is people trying to shoot me, stake crossbows notwithstanding.
Grunting and groaning, we lug the trunk over to the rip in the fence. I can’t believe my eyes, but my mother hops out of the Yukon and runs around to hold the flap of chain link out of our way. It’s so surreal watching my mom break the rules, I almost lose my grip. Dropping Dalton on my foot would not be fun though. We get him around behind the Yukon, set
the trunk down, and collapse for a moment of rest. I’m not sure if it’s because of the sun taking my powers away or it’s psychological, but I feel as exhausted as my friends look.
Once we catch our breath, my mother even helps us lift the trunk into the truck.
“Thanks, Mom.” I hug her.
She looks worriedly at me. “Please tell me that overcooked steak smell is not you.”
“That would be me.” Dalton’s piteous moan emanates from the box.
Sophia, Sierra, and Sam all peer up over the back seat with wide eyes, staring at the talking trunk.
Michelle winds up riding shotgun, with Ashley and me in the middle of the back seat, my siblings climbing all over us. Mom hands me a pair of sunglasses from the overhead storage bin, which I eagerly put on. At least that makes looking around somewhat less painful.
I’m kinda out of it on the ride home: exhausted, hot, and feeling like total crap. The sky’s cleared even more. If it gets any brighter, I’m going to be in serious trouble. This is a day I probably should’ve stayed in my room, or at least the house. But it’s good to know I can hold it together for emergencies.
I feel like I haven’t slept in three days, fading in and out of consciousness. Everyone talking swirls into a mess of sound. The trip’s over after an eternity of floating amid a blur of child voices chattering and eighties music. That’s probably the real reason Mom wanted to drive―she hates it when I change her radio station. Like it’s some huge effort to push ‘Preset 1’ on the dash.
Ashley shakes me. “Hey, we’re back.”
“Huh? What? Oh, right.” I stretch. “It’s day-ish enough to knock me out. That’s not a good sign.”
Dad comes outside, confused as to where everyone went. While Mom gives him the brief explanation, Ashley, Michelle, and I drag the trunk out of the Yukon. My father hurries over to help carry, sparing my friends. He and I manage to get it in the front door, across the house, and down the stairs to the basement. As soon as I walk into my room, it feels like I’m entering a cooler freezer.
“Ahhh….” I drop the trunk and bask in the awesomeness of no longer being microwaved.
Ashley, Michelle, and my sibs enter behind me; Sam closes the door.
Oh, this is wonderful. I fall flat on my back upon my bed, basking in the coolness of going from deep Sahara desert to suburban USA air conditioning. I so want a shower, but that’s gonna wait for the sun to go down.
A Beginner's Guide to Fangs Page 20