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In the Shadows

Page 11

by Jill Nolan


  He moves his grip down to my hand and sniffs it a few times. He lets that arm go and picks up my right hand. He does the same, though I’m much more permitting this time. He sniffs a few times, moving down my hand to my fingers. He sniffs my fingers again.

  “Who else’s blood is on you?”

  Once I get past the shock of him speaking to me, I look at him dumbly, trying to comprehend what he’s talking about.

  “You have blood on you that doesn’t belong to any of those men. Who else’s blood could be on you?”

  And then I remember how I stabbed a man with that hand. I look at my hand; it’s covered in blood. Under all this fresh blood, does the blood of the man I stabbed stain my hand? And he can smell it?

  “When they kidnapped me, I, uh, stabbed one of them. I may have gotten some of his blood on me.”

  “Who is he? Where did he go?”

  “I don’t know who he is, or what happened to him…they just said that he’ll survive.”

  “Tell me everything that happened.”

  So, this is happening. I’m having a conversation with a vampire, who I just saw kill a bunch of people, who’s covered in blood and hidden in the shadows.

  I relay a quick version of my kidnapping, leaving out their interrogation of me.

  He nods, and then he smiles. Smiles.

  “It took two men to take you down. With your size, I’m impressed.”

  I’m not sure how to respond to this, so I don’t say anything. Against my will, the corners of my mouth pull up, mirroring his smile with a small one of my own. I feel some pride that it took two big, grown men to get me…and that he’s impressed.

  And then I get my sanity back, and my face returns to some look of mixed emotions while his expression returns to scary.

  “Did you tell them anything about me?"

  Shit. "No." I try to say it as calmly as possible. It sounds pretty good coming out, and I hope like hell he buys it.

  "Lie. I can hear your heart beating faster."

  "Because I'm scared of you."

  "I guess it's a good thing I left one of them alive. I'll be able to...question him." I shiver. I'm pretty sure by question, he means torture.

  He probably hears my heart pick up even more. I debate coming clean. But if I can just make it inside, I can— No, I can't do that. He'll find out, and if he can't get to me, he'll get to someone else I care about.

  "I had to tell them; they forced me."

  "Forced you how?"

  "He put a knife to my throat, threatened me, cut me.” I touch my neck, my fingers moving over the shallow cut there. “They already knew that I saw a vampire that night. I denied it as long as I could, I swear."

  "And what exactly did you tell them?" There’s no evidence of his softness just minutes before in his voice or demeanor. His voice is threatening now, laced with danger.

  "I just told them about that night; I didn’t mention that one day…that you can go out in the sun.”

  “That would explain why they thought UV flashlights would hurt me. How did they know you saw a vampire?”

  Even though I’m mad at Tom for not keeping his mouth shut, I don’t want to throw him under the bus. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re lying again. How did they know?”

  “I don’t know, not really.”

  “It was one of those two, wasn’t it?” I can’t let him think Allison had anything to do with any of this.

  “It wouldn’t have been the girl. I know for a fact she didn’t tell anyone. Don’t hurt her. I mean, don't hurt either of them. Please.”

  “I wasn’t planning to.”

  “And me?”

  "Your wounds aren’t infected, but they need to be cleaned and bandaged. You don’t need to go to a hospital or a doctor. You don’t need stitches. Just use a few butterfly bandages or super glue.”

  So, he's still not going to kill me? And he doesn’t want me to go to a hospital. Can he really tell there’s no infection? What about diseases?

  I look at my hands again, at him, at the mess of blood everywhere, and I start to panic. There are plenty of diseases that can be passed by blood. What if I’ve got one?

  “I need to be tested. One of them could have had a disease.”

  “None of them were sick. Not with anything blood-borne.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I can smell it.”

  “You can smell disease? Or microorganisms?” I ask skeptically.

  “Something like that.” That answer doesn’t satisfy my curiosity in the least.

  Do I believe him that nobody’s infected blood got into my bloodstream? Worry is probably etched all over my face. I’m worrying over a disease that won’t affect me in the short term, instead of about the vampire right in front of me that could effectively end my life in less than a second.

  “If you don’t believe me, then get tests done once you no longer look like a poster for domestic abuse.” That makes me smile; it’s actually kind of funny. And then he smiles. A bigger smile that exposes two long, sharp canine teeth, wiping the smile off of my face. His smile disappears in the next moment.

  “Make up a story for your injuries, one that doesn’t require the police to get involved. One that will make sense. If anyone were to question you, you’ve never seen those men in your life, tonight never happened, you know nothing. Same deal as before: you don’t tell anyone, and I don’t kill you.”

  "Okay."

  “Try not to get yourself kidnapped again, and I’ll take care of everyone else involved.”

  He stands, spares me a single last glance, then pushes off the ground, pumping his powerful wings, disappearing among the trees and into the night sky.

  Chapter 17

  I'm startled awake by my alarm clock the next morning. Still exhausted but thoroughly alert, I turn it off. I look first at my left forearm, lightly tracing the skin around the bandage. I wonder if people will think I did this to myself. The cut is vertical, which I've heard you only do if you're trying to kill yourself, but it's located on the back part of my forearm, just next to the bone. Most people probably wouldn't notice it unless I put my hands up or they were walking behind me. And it's in a spot that I could have conceivably fallen on something sharp.

  My focus shifts to my tender rope-burned wrists then to my beat-up hands, which sport cracked and bloodied fingernails. I've never been one to care much about how my nails look, but even I'm uncomfortable at how ugly they are. I clearly didn't do a good enough job cleaning dirt and blood from under my nails. Although some of that blood is from the painful hangnails I must have gotten while trying to free myself from the rope.

  After I all but dragged myself inside last night, I filled up on granola bars then showered all the blood and dirt off of me, the low flow working in my favor for once to give me a gentle cleaning. Then came the painful but necessary ordeal of disinfecting the wound along with the myriad of other cuts. I normally wouldn't bother cleaning small scratches like the ones all over my body, but after being manhandled and exposed to so much blood, I would have disinfected my entire body if I'd had enough isopropanol and hydrogen peroxide. I closed and covered the cut on my forearm with three different kinds of bandages. Luckily, it didn't go too deep, though it was a good three inches long.

  The last thing I did before bed was triple-bag my bloody clothes and shove it to the bottom of the mostly full garbage bin.

  I slowly ease my aching body out of bed. I lay the fire poker leaning against my nightstand under my bed. I grab the knife on the nightstand and place it in one of the drawers. The stake I normally have within reach was all but forgotten at the bottom of the drawer.

  I take a deep breath and push myself off the bed, feeling unsteady and weak on my legs, every movement affecting one sore body part or another. I study myself in the mirror, analyzing my swollen black eye, which is surrounded by dark purple bruising that gets lighter toward my cheek bone. I think I may have a second bruise on my cheek...maybe from whe
n the first guy slammed my head onto the counter. That whole side of my face looks disgusting and brings with it a replay of everything that happened last night, forcing tears to my eyes at what I'd endured. It's not just the abuse and the uncertainty and the fear, but the sight of all those men being slaughtered...

  I turn from the mirror when I hear someone come in the cabin. Knowing it's probably Allison, but panicking that it's not, I crack the door and shout, "Allison?"

  "Yeah?"

  I let out a breath of relief, though realize now that I have to explain this to her. I quickly grab a long sleeve tee and throw it on, curling my fingers in to hide how torn up they are.

  "You almost ready to go?" she asks from outside my door.

  "I'm going to call in sick."

  "You're sick again?"

  "Not exactly... I fell out of a tree." I open the door, hoping she'll buy my explanation.

  "Holy shit, Keegan," she says, looking pointedly at my black eye. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I went for a run when you left, and there’s this perfect climbing tree off the trail that I love to climb. Except this time, I didn't get out of it so smoothly...hit my face on one of the branches. It did help break my fall though."

  "Did you go to the hospital?"

  "I didn't need to. I didn't break anything; I'm just a bit bruised up."

  "What if you got a concussion or something? Keegan, you should have called me! I would have come back to make sure you were okay. What if you died in your sleep?"

  "I didn't want to ruin your night. And anyway, it was just a black eye. I've hit my head harder than this before, and I would've gone to the hospital if I thought there was a chance I was actually hurt."

  She still looks concerned, but she seems to accept everything I've said.

  "Alright. I have to get going if I want to be on time...unless you think he'd let me skip to take care of your clumsy ass?" she asks, bringing a small smile to my face, which immediately causes my eye to throb painfully.

  "Doubtful."

  ◆◆◆

  Three ibuprofen and several hours later, I pause the movie to go to the bathroom, bringing my fire poker with me even though I feel too weak to even swing it right now. As I leave the bathroom, I look around, make sure nothing seems out of place, that the glass of water I put by the basement door is still there.

  This morning, I went through the whole house, making sure all the windows and doors were locked, looking for how those men got in. I even checked out the creepy, spider-infested basement. That's where I found a broken window, just barely large enough for someone with a beer belly to fit through. Knowing I couldn't just leave it like that, I swept up the glass and even nailed two boards over the window. There's no lock on the basement door, but at least with the intact glass of water, I know no one came through that door. And if I see water on the floor or the glass moved, I'll know to get the hell out.

  I start the movie back up, but I'm in my own head more than I'm paying attention, just like I've been all day. The cabin feels even less safe now, which is kind of crazy, because it was always susceptible to being broken into, but I've been dealing with the possibility of it being susceptible to vampires for the last few weeks. And now...now I'm not so worried about the vampire. As he was flying away from me, the only thing I was thinking was, but why? Why save me?

  I think back to when he was carrying me through the air. At the time, I was scared shitless. Reliving it now, I feel his strong arms around me, holding me tight against him, protecting me. After we landed, he stood over me with those massive wings outstretched, looking like he would kill me without a second thought. Instead, he showed me kindness, concern. His gentle treatment of me after seeing his extreme brutality is really messing with my head.

  Still, I can't forget how he killed those men. Eight men, by my count. He brutally killed eight men right in front of me. I may have only gotten glimpses of the carnage he produced, but it was enough. And my mind involuntarily fills in the blanks for me.

  I’m sure those men had families. People they loved. People who loved them. And now their families will never know what happened to them. Which may be for the best, considering their horrific end.

  I push back the guilt I feel. It’s not my fault they kidnapped me. It’s not my fault they thought they could kill the vampire. And it’s not my fault the vampire killed them. They weren’t the good guys.

  I can't help but wonder, would my kidnappers' treatment of me have been justified if they had succeeded in killing the vampire? Assuming, of course, they kept their word to let me go. Would they have been the heroes then, having saved the town from the monster who hunts its people?

  Technically, only one of them really hurt me: Girlpuncher. But they all let him cut me. Only the nice one tried to stop him. And then he let me go...but now that feels more like a ploy than a kindness. That must have been the plan all along, so that they could follow me until the vampire came. Did he come because of me like they thought he would? Was he really there to save me? Or did he come for them for the simple fact that they were hunting him?

  It doesn't matter. I'm safe now. Those men aren't alive to hurt me anymore, and the vampire had multiple chances to kill me.

  I hear a car pull up, wrenching me from my thoughts. A minute later Allison barges through the door.

  "Have you seen the news?"

  "Are you really asking me that?"

  "There was a fire or explosion or something and nine men were found in the wreckage."

  My mind is reeling. Nine men. Could they be the men that kidnapped me? Could that be the vampire covering up? If this was him, he must have found the guy I stabbed, just like he promised he would.

  "What? What happened?" I pause my movie and turn my full attention on her.

  "I don't know. So far, they think it's accidental. It was at a cabin and the guy who owned it had a lot of weapons there and some of them were explosive."

  I'm not really sure what to say. "That's terrible," I mumble, trying for sympathy when really, I don't know what to feel.

  "That's not the terrible part...or I guess it is, but it gets worse. They think Tom's dad was one of the victims."

  "Holy shit. Why?"

  "He's missing, can't be reached, and that was his friend's cabin. Actually, Derek – the kid who went missing? That was his dad's cabin."

  My unease officially turns to dread. "What were their names?"

  "I think Derek's dad's name was Craig? Tom's dad is Mark Hoffman."

  My stomach drops out completely. I think back to when they were questioning me, when Girlpuncher held a knife to my throat. I hear his voice again, right in front of my face.

  I’m going to start slicing you open.

  Jesus, Craig!

  Are you fuckin’ kidding me, Mark?

  Could Tom's dad be the nice one? Is Derek’s dad Girlpuncher? I think back to how he demanded to know what happened to Derek. That would at least somewhat explain why he was so intense.

  Even though my insides feel as though they're twisting around each other, I try to act normal. "That's..." I can't say terrible again. "Awful," I finish. "How is Tom doing?"

  "I don't know! That's the thing, he's probably going through so much right now, and I have no idea if I should say something or give him space. I mean, we just started seeing each other. And if I do say something, what the hell do you say to someone who may have just lost their dad? I don't know how to deal with this shit!"

  "Yeah, that's a tough one..." I say, detached. "I would wait until he's confirmed dead, then say you're sorry or something. There's really no right thing to say in those situations."

  "But there is a wrong thing to say."

  "True. Just don't say the wrong thing, and you'll be fine."

  Allison goes upstairs. I don't bother continuing the movie, too caught up in my thoughts. I think back to the reason Allison stayed over at Tom’s, because his dad suggested it. It wasn’t luck that Allison wasn't home the same night I
was kidnapped.

  I already knew that their families would be the ones to suffer their loss because of what they did, but it's so much more real now that I think about Tom suffering. I don't know him super well, but he's a really nice guy, and I feel terrible about the loss of his dad.

  No matter what, it is not my fault they died. Why do I have to keep reminding myself that? It’s true, and yet, I can’t make myself fully believe it. I feel partially responsible for their deaths. I guess there's no point in blaming dead men.

  They were wrong to hurt me and use me the way they did, but was I any better? What did I do when I witnessed some kid get killed? Literally nothing. These men actually tried to stop the killing, even if they went about it in the wrong way and in the end they failed. They weren't cowards like me.

  I go back and forth with myself, between thinking those men were evil assholes and thinking they were courageous fighters. So, what were they? Neither, I guess. They were just men, with good and bad in them, with the capacity for bravery and stupidity. They had a valiant goal, but questionable methods.

  And the vampire? Now he's no longer this evil entity in my mind. He's not good, obviously, but he did save me. Why the hell did he save me?

  Everything that used to be black and white has bled into shades of gray, and I don't know what to think about any of it.

  Chapter 18

  Nic comes over Saturday night to see how I'm doing. I have neither the strength nor the will to go out. I don't think anyone did much of anything tonight anyway. Everyone is a little somber now that Tom's dad has officially been declared dead. I'm still having trouble sorting through all of my emotions. I have a lot of conflicted feelings that tend to change by the hour.

  Allison has been talking to Tom a little, but he wanted to be alone last night and tonight. The three of us were all hanging out downstairs, but Allison went up to her room not too long ago when her sister called.

  Nic and I talk for a bit, and he pulls me from my head, making me laugh. He takes my hand, which would normally be a sweet gesture, but instead I’m finding it...off-putting. I try not to show my aversion to his touch, not wanting to be rude.

 

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