With the cop staring into the Rainbow Dimension, I trot back to Dad’s car and get in. “Ugh. Cops. Never one around when you need them, and they always show up at the worst times.”
Just Say No
20
Flashing police lights in the rearview go out. I sigh at the roof. “Perfect end to a perfectly shitty day.”
“You okay?” asks Stephanie. “Those guys really beat the snot out of you.”
The scent of fried chicken hits me out of nowhere. Maybe because this girl looks like she should work at a Hooters or something. I glance over at her, small breaks and cracks in my bones still working their way toward healed. “Not really.”
“Where are those two?”
“Gone.”
She stares into my eyes. Her demeanor goes somewhere between prey animal and relief.
Screw it.
I put her brain on pause and lean in for a bite. Sure enough, her blood tastes like fried chicken and mashed potatoes. She sits there on Cloud Nine the whole time, like I don’t even exist―nor does the world. Wow. I guess I’m a hypocrite for feeding on this girl I saved from being the vampire equivalent of a bong. Though, I’m not force-feeding her drugs first. Guess that should count for something.
Tap tap.
Metal clicks on the driver’s side window.
Ugh. Damn cop.
I lick the wound to seal it and retract my fangs before turning to face the window. Sure enough, the lady officer is jamming me in the eye with her Maglite.
“’Scuse me, but what are you two girls doing?”
Great. She thinks we’re lesbians making out. I look up at her. “Nothing, officer. Just stalled engine. Go back to your car and drive somewhere you’d normally go on patrol, okay? We’re fine.”
The woman turns on her heel and marches back to her car.
“Wow,” mutters Stephanie. “I really wish I could do that when I get pulled over. So, umm, are you gonna drink from Paulie, too?”
Shit. There’s a dude in my backseat. I totally forgot about him. “No. My parents will kill me if I do drugs.”
“Oh.” She nods. “Yeah, mine didn’t like it either.”
I stare at her. “Drugs are bad. Stop doing them. And, vampires don’t exist. You never saw anything strange.”
“Okay,” mutters Stephanie.
The police lights behind us go out again.
Damn. I’m an idiot. I leap out of the car and jump in front of the cop as she starts to drive away. The bar lights go back on. The woman gets out of her car looking confused and a little pissed off. She’s gotta suspect something really strange is going on and can’t quite identify it.
“Officer, I need help.” I point at my car. “I found this girl wandering with her friend. He’s zoned out on some kinda drugs. I have no idea. I know I shouldn’t pick up hitchhikers, but I couldn’t just leave her out here alone. Can you help them?”
The cop walks over to my car and spots her Maglite on Paulie in the back seat. “What did he take?”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t know. I only found him a few minutes ago. He was already unconscious. The girl said he’s been out for hours.”
“That’s not good.” The cop grabs her mic. “Dispatch, I need an ambulance out here on Avondale Road Northeast. Little shy of The Heights.”
“Copy,” says a voice from her belt.
By the time the ambulance arrives, Stephanie remembers escaping from ‘some place’ after being kidnapped, but can’t recall where she’d been taken. She thinks she went wandering down the road with Paulie, who passed out an hour before I came along and they flagged me down for a ride. Once the EMTs load Paulie into the ambulance and Stephanie’s in the back seat of the police car waiting for a ride home, I answer a couple questions, with the cop taking notes. Figure this’ll be much faster than me driving them. Speaking of home, I want to get to mine ASAP.
At long last, the officer leaves, and I flop in the driver’s seat.
I grab the iPhone from my pocket and sigh at the long list of text messages from Dad, Hunter, and my friends. A whole lot of panic. No point reading them. I send everyone an, ‘I’m okay, will explain in person.’ Dad also gets an ‘OMW home.’
Within seconds of me sending it, the phone rings. It’s Dad.
“Sarah, where the hell have you been?”
“Can you wait for me to get home to explain? Things got a little out of hand, but I’m okay.”
He lets off a heavy sigh. “I had the worst feeling something bad happened.”
“Something bad did happen, but I’m okay now. I should be home in a couple minutes.”
“Are you talking on the phone while driving?”
“Nope. I’m on the side of the road.”
He mutters, “She’s okay,” probably to Mom, then comes back on the line. “All right. Please come straight home and be careful.”
“If you want me home faster, I could leave the car behind.”
“Ha. Just drive carefully, okay? We love you.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
I hang up.
As soon as traffic gives me an opening, I nail the accelerator and spin the tires. Well, that worked out about as well as I expected. This girl is not cut out for crime. Even justified crime. Around ten minutes later, I pull into my cul-de-sac and park next to the Yukon. Dalton walks out from behind the corner of the house, approaching as I head for the front door.
“Hey,” he says. “How’d it go?”
“A complete and total cluster-f as my Dad would say.” I look down. “Sorry. I suck at being a thief. Got caught, locked up…” I explain my terrifying and boring day sitting in a makeshift dungeon, followed by a pair of thugs tenderizing me.
“Drat.” He sighs at the ground. “Bollocks. Don’t worry about it. You tried, that’s what matters.”
“You’re not upset?” I ask.
“Oh, I’m upset in the sense of ‘shite, I need to get out of the area,’ but I’m not upset in the sense of being angry with you.”
“Are you really going to leave for London?” I ask.
“Aye. For a while until this dies down.” He glances around at the placid suburban utopia around us. “Shame, though. It’s nice here. But, I’ve been away from home a long while.”
I narrow my eyes in a playful glare. “You didn’t happen to leave London because you ticked someone off, did you?”
He puts a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “Moi?”
“I take that as a yes.” My turn to sigh at the ground. “You know, I’m gonna miss you. Thanks for saving my life.”
“Bah. There’s phones, you know. I’m not dropping off the planet. Haven’t quite worked out how to withstand outer space.”
“I better get inside before my parents spontaneously combust. You wanna come in for a bit?”
Dalton glances at the house, at me, then off down the street. “That would be lovely, though perhaps a bit too much risk for your family. It’s only a matter of time before someone with a rather keen interest of separating my head from the rest of me locates this place. It’ll likely be Eleanor’s people. She’s got connections.”
“Not like losing your head would be that much of an issue,” I say.
“Metaphorical.” He grins. “Usually after they do the ‘chopping into small pieces’ thing, there’s fire involved. Lots of fire.”
I shiver. “I met an Eleanor, I think. Creepy kinda woman. Gave me a bad vibe. Like one of those evil mad scientists.”
“Aye, that’s pretty much accurate. Miss St. Ives has the emotional range of a desk lamp, but she is quite capable of becoming angry, and is rather methodical about it. So, right.” Dalton grasps my shoulders and gives me a gentle kiss atop the head. “Best be off before I drag them to your doorstep.”
“See ya,” I whisper, barely forcing my voice past a surprising lump in my throat.
Something moves in the darkness between my house and the Perrys’ place next door. A figure emerges from the dark, cree
ping toward us.
Dalton spins to face it, pushing me behind him. “Faster than I thought, mate.”
I take a step back, raising my hands in a fighting pose.
Guess the night hasn’t run out of ass-kickings yet.
The Darkness Watches
21
The figure draws nearer, in no great hurry.
And, hang on. Why is it dark?
“Dalton?” I ask.
“Aye?” he whispers.
“We can see in the dark, right? Even in a totally sealed crypt with no light.”
“Aye.”
I point past him at the approaching figure. “Why, then, is there a cloud of darkness?”
He tilts his head. “Oy. That’s a damn fine question.”
The shadows billow around in a mass of moving trails, all collapsing into each other like a smoke grenade detonating in reverse. Roiling inky mist collapses into the ground, revealing Glim.
“Oh, shit.” I sag against Dalton. “It’s a friend.”
“You know this chap?”
“Yeah.” I step out from behind him, smiling. “Hi, Glim.”
“Hello.” He bows his head in greeting to Dalton. “You had quite an interesting night, Sarah.”
I shiver. “That’s one way to put it.”
Glim holds out his grey hand, three-inch yellow talons sprouting from each finger. Wow, if those suckers are that big retracted… Remind me never to get a Shadow mad enough to want to end me. He smiles. An instant later, the spyglass appears out of thin air.
“Bollocks,” whispers Dalton. “Did you conjure it?”
“Wow!” I stare in disbelief at him. “You…”
“Forgive my showmanship.” Glim grins. “It was in my hand the whole time. I simply chose that moment to let it be seen.”
“Bugger me,” mutters Dalton. “You chaps could nick the bloomers straight off the Queen.”
I take the spyglass carefully in both hands. “Umm. Wow. How did you even know I tried to get this back?”
Glim lets his arm fall at his side. “The darkness whispers to us.”
“Thank you!” I hand the spyglass to Dalton, who grimaces faintly when I hug Glim. His body goes rigid, like he doesn’t know how to react. “Sorry. Does this bother you?”
“No,” he says, his voice slightly cracking. “It’s been a while.”
I give him another squeeze, then take a step back. “I feel almost guilty. You didn’t have to risk yourself for us like that. It’s only an object.”
“I felt the need to thank you for being human to me.” He reaches out and caresses my cheek, his hand cold, dry, and scratchy. I don’t flinch at all. “And none of them noticed me.”
“You don’t need to do stuff like that. I think you’re pretty cool, and I’m happy to be your friend. No expectation of favors.”
He nods. “My help was freely given.”
“Many thanks, mate.” Dalton offers a handshake.
The men clasp hands.
“Until later then.” Glim bows his head at me and disappears in a wash of shadowy vapors.
Dalton gestures at the spot. “That man knows how to make an entrance.”
“So, now what?”
He eyes the spyglass. “Not quite what I had in mind, but I do rather appreciate you trying.” His cheeks pale, and his right eye twitches.
“Why do you look like you’re expecting to die at any moment?” I ask.
The porch light clicks on a second before the door opens. Mom and Dad peer through the screen door at us.
“Almost done,” I say to my parents. “Just a sec.”
Dad pushes the screen door open and walks outside. “What happened? Did you get into an argument with a weed whacker?”
I glance down at my ripped and bloody shirt. “Yeah, basically.”
My father points at me. “You should’ve worn a headband. That always helps when you have asses to kick.”
I laugh.
Dalton raises an eyebrow.
“All right. Don’t hang out here too long. It’s getting late.” Dad nods in greeting to Dalton, then walks back inside. Seeing me here in one piece appears to satisfy Mom for the time being. They leave the door open and head out of sight into the living room.
Dalton scratches behind his ear. “Well. See… thing is, the one who hired me to steal this, umm, Eleanor, is pretty cheesed off. And I can’t exactly waltz up to the one I took it from.”
I snag it out of his hand. “I’ll do it then. Maybe you should lay low for a while.”
He blinks at me and grabs the spyglass, but I don’t let go. “After what just happened tonight, you’re not going to get mixed up in my mess again.”
“Dalton. It’s the only way. I don’t want you to go to freakin’ London. The vampire you took this from won’t hurt me for returning his property.”
“Oy. You don’t know that.”
“Who’d you take it from?” I ask.
He lets go and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Bloke’s a rather nasty sort.”
“Who? Name.” I tap the spyglass on my other hand. “Who am I returning this to?”
Dalton makes a face like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Arthur Wolent.”
A cough comes from the space between the houses. Glim strides out into view, his yellow, glowing eyes wide with concern.
“I met him at a thing the other day. He seemed reasonably nice,” I say.
“He is a fury, Sarah,” says Glim. “And like 200 years old.”
“Okay, he’s a Fury. That means he gets really mad, really fast, at the smallest thing, and tends to smash stuff when he gets mad?”
Both men nod at me.
“Sounds like Sierra when she’s having a bad PlayStation Day.”
“I heard that,” yells Sierra from the upstairs window over the garage, which’d be Sam’s room. My old bedroom overlooks the back yard. Hmm. Wonder what she’s doing in there? I peer up at three little faces watching us. Sophia grins cheesily. Sam looks worried, and Sierra’s sporting an annoyed smirk.
Dalton smiles and waves up at them.
“No problem.” I glance down at my goofy reflection upon the engraved, golden tube. “I’ll just be super sweet and not do anything to make him angry.”
“Easier said than done.” Glim purses his lips. “Some Furies, it takes very little to set them off. A misplaced fork at a formal dinner can spill blood, for example.”
“Also, please do not tell him who wanted me to steal it, or you could start a war.” Dalton shivers. “That’d make a right hames of things.”
“A war?” I ask?
“There are factions within our world,” says Glim. “All may appear pleasant on the surface, but beneath the smiles and social gatherings, a constant shift of power takes place. You’re not far removed from high school, so you should understand what I mean.”
“Cliques.” I smirk.
“And if Wolent finds out that St. Ives wanted his spyglass, a hidden chess match will rather rapidly devolve into bodies flying through windows, and probably quite a bit of fire,” says Dalton.
“A war, over a stupid telescope?” I ask.
“Aye.” Dalton nods.
“In all fairness,” says Glim. “People have started wars over trivial things rather often throughout history.”
“So I’m potentially holding a vampiric blood war.” I sigh at the spyglass. “Greeeat.”
Glim puts a hand on my shoulder. “I suggest you wait until tomorrow.”
“Why?”
He shakes his head. “Mr. Wolent is not presently in a mood to receive visitors.”
“How the bloody heck do you know that?” asks Dalton.
Glim spreads his arms wide, and appears to fall into a gaping hole of black vapor. “The darkness always watches.”
Dalton and I stare at the spot of grass for a long moment.
“Chap’s a touch of the melodramatic, isn’t he?”
I smile. “Yeah, but it totall
y works for him.”
Priorities
22
For a while today, I thought being locked up in a dungeon had been the most unpleasant experience of my eighteen years. Nope. After I step inside, I have to explain to my parents that I’d been kidnapped, chained up, and locked in a dungeon for like five hours. That’s way more awkward. They do manage not to freak out, which I hadn’t been expecting.
So after that wonderful, delightful experience, I sit with them until it gets late enough that they want to sleep. Despite my being eighteen, they both insist on goodnight hugs and make their way upstairs. I head down to my room and stash the spyglass in my dresser, hiding it under my massive collection of panties. I figure if someone manages to track this thing to my house, it’ll probably be a guy, and this is the last place he’ll look.
That done, I head out. After the night I’ve had, I really need a drink.
My eyes pop open, but I don’t feel much urge to move yet. I started to have a nightmare about being in that dungeon, but it got weird. Before I could even freak out about being kidnapped, I went vampy and ripped off the cuffs. Hundreds of Dales and Thing Twos swarmed down the hall at me. Claws out, I leapt into them, popping them like water balloons one after the next. Glim joined in, his talons as big as carving knives. Somehow, my ‘trapped in a cell’ nightmare turned into a buddy cop stupid adventure movie―with fangs.
Maybe I shouldn’t have taken blood from a drunk guy wobbling out of a bar.
I peel my face off the pillow and push up enough to see the clock. It’s almost six. Wow, I overslept hard. Groaning, I roll over onto my back, still with no desire to move.
My phone rings a few minutes later. Damn. One thing I cannot do is ignore a ringing phone or the tweep of an incoming text―at least not without handcuffs on. I grab it and swipe to answer.
“What’s up,” I croak, no idea who’s listening.
“Sarah!” yells Ashley. “What happened?”
“Oh, hi. Sorry. Rough day yesterday.”
“Dude. I’ve been trying to call you forever.”
My worry module activates. “What happened?”
“Oh, nothing. Just freaking out when you didn’t answer my text. I thought something happened to you.”
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