Unless I moved in with the girl and handcuffed us together, I wasn’t likely to experience all of their visits.
It irked me that I couldn’t see a solution but wanted to. I wanted there to be a way out of this for her—not least, I recognized with a stab of guilt, because it would allow me to move on too. Around and around I went, wondering at questions with no answers. Pretty Little Liars started and ended in front of me, no more than background noise. Finally, the red and blue lights flashing in through my window, and the still-open curtains, faded away as the squad car left.
Grateful that the police hadn’t knocked on our door to ask for statements, and also hoping that they’d found something that would lead them to the vamps, I tried to relax into my blankets.
It was no good. All of the exhaustion seemed to have left my body, and both my mind and my muscles were awake. I could have run a marathon right then if I had wanted to. Part of me considered it.
But Mom had asked me to stay inside, and I fully intended on following her orders. What would I see out there, anyway?
All I could think was that Laura, Gregory, and I were the only ones who really knew the truth. And something told me that they wouldn’t spill the beans to anyone else.
Just as I felt my eyelids beginning to droop, there was a quiet, gentle tapping at my window.
Chapter 7
A girl not far from my age, with sad, unblinking eyes, perched on the sill outside.
“Iona,” I breathed, and crossed to throw the window open without thinking. Bad move, I’d think later—inviting a vampire into your house had gone horribly, terribly wrong for me once already—but Iona was a friend, if an infuriatingly vague one at times.
A strong smell of roses and fresh pine washed in with the cool air as she slid gracefully into the room. Her silvery blond hair fell like a waterfall over her shoulders, all the way down her back. She straightened, her stance like a cat’s, and she turned to face me, brushing some stray hair from her bright, amber eyes.
“Come on in,” I said, obviously as an afterthought.
She blinked at me. “I apologize for barging in like this,” she began, her voice cool and even like a mountain lake. “But given what has happened in your little neighborhood in the last few days, a conversation up on the rooftop or out in public isn’t really a great option. It will draw the wrong kind of attention.”
“I’m a little surprised to see you, to be honest,” I said, flopping down on my bed, my headphones still in my hand.
“You were the one asking for advice about how to get rid of vampires.”
“Well, yeah, but whatever happened to texting me?”
Iona crossed her arms over her chest, her leather jacket catching the light from my bedside table lamp. “Did you think that vampires reappearing in your area would fail to get my attention?”
“Well, no—”
“So I came right over. The last time I hesitated, Byron ended up kidnapping your parents.” There was a low note of remorse in her voice—very low; the barest trace of guilt.
“I’m also concerned these vampires might be Draven’s men.”
“Well, it wasn’t exactly men,” I said. “And they weren’t exactly old, either.”
“What do you mean?” Iona asked, her brow furrowing.
“There were four of them, but they all looked like they could have been in my year at school. And they were acting really odd, too.” “Odd,” of course, meaning nothing like Byron—because I didn’t exactly know how vampires acted in general. Of course, with Draven’s desire to keep in the shadows, I figured it was fair to say that vamp hoodlums disturbing the neighborhood wasn’t exactly par for the course.
I gave Iona a quick rundown of what happened. I told her about how I had heard them and how they had nearly burned down the entire neighborhood. I told her that I had watched as they had carried on and taken pictures, and how they had run, just as she had said, when the police were called.
“And they must have attracted more attention than they had thought, because it wasn’t me that had called the cops. Someone beat me to it.”
Iona nodded.
“So why do you think that these four are harassing you?”
It took me a second to register what she had said. “Wait,” I said. “I think you have the wrong impression. They aren’t harassing me. They’re after this girl in my class, my neighbor.”
Her nostrils flared with annoyance. “Why didn’t you say that from the beginning?”
“I’m sorry,” I replied. “Her name is Laura. She’s the head cheerleader at my school. Tall, pretty, the top of the class—a total walking cliché if ever there was one.” I paused. Acid had crept into my voice.
“All right, that wasn’t so nice.”
Iona’s gaze had never left my face. “What did this girl do to you?”
I had to think. “Well, nothing, really. I don’t know.”
“Then why do you hate her?”
“Hate her?” I said, my head spinning a little. “I don’t hate her. She’s been … nice to me, I guess.”
Iona arched a perfectly tweezed eyebrow. “Are you sure? It sounds like—”
“I’m sure,” I cut in. “She’s nice, really. She’s popular, everyone likes her. She’s—” I hesitated. “Never mind. Maybe envy wasn’t a thing when you were growing up.”
Iona cracked a smile. A smile! I wasn’t sure I had ever seen that sort of look on her face.
“I’m not that much older than you,” Iona said.
“I know that,” I replied. “But how long have you been nineteen or whatever?”
Iona looked at her black Converse shoes with the dirty white laces.
No answer, so I heaved a sigh. “I thought that all of this was behind me, you know?”
“I thought so too,” Iona said.
“And then, after all this time, they somehow show up again in my neighborhood, harassing one of my classmates! I mean, what are the chances of that?”
Iona nodded.
“I thought that when Gregory came to me blabbing about vampires that he was blowing something way out of proportion, that maybe he was just upset that someone else was after his crush. But I just didn’t want to think about it. I mean, he had only seen Byron. He wasn’t there when I had to actually face them … the coward.”
Iona’s eyes narrowed. “Someone else knows about us?”
I waved her statement away. “Don’t act so surprised.”
Iona’s eyebrows nearly reached her scalp, but I ignored it.
“But this girl, Laura,” I started again, grabbing a pillow and draping it across my knees before leaning my elbows on it, “she has no idea what she’s up against. I’ve been there. I know exactly what she is feeling. How can I just leave her to deal with these vamps?”
Iona drummed her fingers against her arm, but I spoke again before she opened her mouth.
“It’s not that I want to get involved. That is literally the last thing in the entire world that I want. I’ve spent the last three months trying to get my life back to normal. It’s not like I’ve had nightmares almost every night since all of this started, or like I’ve had the absolute worst time trying to get my parents to trust me again. I have so much to lose if I even consider getting involved.”
I sighed, my eyes falling on the little unicorn statuette that Byron had picked up and examined one of the last times he had been in my room. For some reason I hadn’t gotten rid of it yet, in spite of the dread-inducing memories it inspired in me. Defiance, maybe—one last middle finger to Byron.
“But I still worry about her, and what could happen to her. I mean, if I don’t step in, she could be killed. And I have the knowledge to help her, have the experience. That was why Gregory came to me.”
I sighed and fell back onto the bed.
“I don’t know, Iona,” I said. I didn’t try to hide the defeat in my voice. “I just can’t help thinking that I should help.”
She finally broke in. “Because s
omeone is clearly in over their head?”
I glared at her. “What? Her or me?”
“Both of you,” Iona replied flatly. She crossed the room in two steps and was seated beside me before I had even blinked. “You should stay out of this, Cassie. Remember, Lord Draven is looking for you. Even if these four hooligans weren’t sent by him, they’re in his territory. That means they answer to him. If he finds you—”
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “All of my blood, drained from my body, and not for a good cause like saving cancer patients.”
Iona rolled her eyes.
“But theoretically,” I said, “If I did want to help … what could I do?”
Iona rose to her feet in one fluid motion. It wasn’t fair, how graceful she was. But her gaze turned on me was all ice.
“Call the police the next time you see them, or hear them coming,” she suggested, not gently. “That’s the best thing that you can do—spook them.”
She put her hands on her hips and stared intently down at me. “Don’t get involved, Cassandra. You won’t survive it.”
And without another word, leaving me both reeling and angry all at the same time, she vanished out the window like a bird making for freedom. The wind rushed in after her, as if to punctuate her exit.
“You don’t have to be so dramatic about it,” I muttered under my breath before collapsing back onto my blankets again.
Chapter 8
No sooner had I closed my eyes, it seemed, than the night was over, vanquished with the shrill bleat of my alarm.
Mom was waiting for me downstairs, and I only half heard her telling me about what the plans for the weekend were. It wasn’t until I was waving at her as I walked into the school, travel mug full of chocolate milk and coffee in hand, that I realized that it was Friday.
Not that Friday really meant all that much to me these days. I liked being able to sleep in on Saturdays, but what teenager didn’t? I was just putting my backpack inside my locker when—
“Hey, Cassie.”
Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I turned to find Gregory behind me, smelling of a cologne that made me think of beaches and free time. Wearing a plaid shirt today and dark blue jeans—a look that suited him, I noted with some annoyance—he looked tired, green eyes underlined with dark circles under his glasses.
“Did you see what happened last night?” he asked, voice low and eyes flitting to see if anyone was watching us. They weren’t; no one cared what us zeroes were discussing.
I closed my locker and leaned against it. “It was kinda hard to miss. I mean, someone called the police.”
“Wait, that wasn’t you?” he said. He pushed his glasses up his nose before running his fingers through his hair.
“No,” I said. “But I’d recommend that you guys switch to a charcoal grill, for safety’s sake. Or maybe even get rid of a grill altogether. Otherwise you’ve got a potential bomb in your yard for a vampire to set off if they get pissed at you again.” Or just decide it’s fun, I didn’t add.
“This isn’t a joke,” Gregory said harshly, all of the color draining from his face.
I stared coolly back at him, unfazed. “You’re right. Vampires came after you last night. Explosions, or permanent hearing loss would be the least of your—”
Face contorting with anger at my flippancy, Gregory spun around on the spot and, avoiding a group of giggling freshmen, paced across the hall. He looked up and down the hall, and then walked back to me.
“I didn’t sleep at all last night,” he said, looking around again for eavesdroppers.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I remembered what that felt like. “I get it. Things are a little tense right now—”
“A little?” Gregory ran an anxious hand through his hair.
“You’re gonna have to calm down, buddy,” I told him. “No one would normally care what we’re talking about, but you’re drawing attention to us.”
And he was. Several pairs of eyes nearby had fixed themselves upon us—on him. Drawn back to reality, he straightened, adjusting his grip on his books—back to business-as-usual Gregory Holt, not totally-freaking-out-right-now Gregory.
Gawkers returning to their lockers and conversation, I said, “Look, I am taking this seriously.”
I had spent most of the night after Iona left going back and forth in my mind. Iona’s advice was solid, and it didn’t take an idiot to know that heeding her was the best way to keep myself safe. There was nothing saying that I had to get involved.
But my conscience was nagging me relentlessly, and it wasn’t until I stood there in front of Gregory that I realized I had made my decision a long time ago.
“And …” I continued, “I’m ready to help.”
Relief washed over Gregory’s face as his eyes widened and the color returned to his cheeks. “Really? For real? For really real?”
I could only blink at him. “Can we just go with yes?”
“Okay,” he said, and it was as if a weight had left his shoulders. He looked nervously around, and before I could say anything, he snaked his hand around my elbow and started to steer me down the hall.
“Hey,” I said, trying to pull away, “what are you doing?”
“Come with me,” he said. “Please.”
The fear was back in his voice, and so I complied.
He led me down the hall, and we took a right turn down the English hallway. Laura stood at her locker, staring inside, rearranging books and surrounded by her friends.
Gregory halted our steps.
“Why aren’t we going to talk to her?” I asked.
“Look,” Gregory said.
So I looked. She was laughing at something that one of the senior boys had said to her, his letterman’s jacket draped over his arm. All of the girls were gazing at her in awe, and all of the guys were looking at her as if they were staring at an angel.
But Laura was struggling. Maybe it wasn’t obvious to all of her admirers swarming around her like bees to honey, but I knew what to look for. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, where dark circles were covered by a thick layer of foundation. Her books were nestled right in front of her chest, creating a barrier between her and all of those other students surrounding her. And her perfect curls seemed as if a little less time had been put into them that morning. Everyone had mornings where they slept in, right?
Not Laura Grayson.
“She’s not even talking about what happened to her last night,” Gregory said, bending down to my ear. “Can you believe it? Vampires practically put her house under siege and she’s listening that girl talk about her hair care woes.”
“Maybe she realizes that telling the truth would make her sound completely insane.” Again, I could sympathize.
Gregory’s eyes stayed on her with intensity that bordered on adoration. “This girl is different than you. If she told them that there were vampires after her, everyone would believe her.”
That stung. This girl was different than me. So what? It wasn’t like I wanted people to fawn over me like a bunch of idiots, hanging on my every word, as if I was a goddess or some kind of prophet.
Acidly, I snapped, “Yeah, right.” I crossed my arms over my chest, biting down on my tongue, my face hardening into stone.
Gregory caught his mistake a moment too late.
“I …” he started. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Whatever.” The perpetual retort of the scorned teenage girl. If I hadn’t been so wounded by what he’d said, maybe I would have put more original thought into it.
The bell rang through the crowded hall—five minutes until homeroom. Corridors were starting to clear out now, Laura’s friends moving off with short goodbyes. Between that and the fact that our loitering, and staring, was increasingly obvious the longer we dallied (a fact which probably didn’t bother Gregory, considering his total lack of shame), he took a chance:
“Hey, Laura?”
Laura turned from her locker.
“Hi, Grego
ry,” she said, her face lighting up.
So it wasn’t all just a ruse. She seemed genuinely pleased to see him. Then again, she always looked genuinely pleased to see everyone. But there was a sort of giddiness when she saw him, as if he was an answer to a prayer.
Gregory took the greeting as an invitation to practically skip up alongside her—and pull me along by my elbow in his wake, spluttering. “Laura, this is Cassie Howell.”
“I know Cassie,” she said, smiling at me.
Tearstains on the front of her blouse, I noticed—faded, because they’d almost dried, saltwater spreading into blurred smears. But I noticed them, even if her friends hadn’t. After last night, the fact that she was trying to carry on normally was admirable.
Just like everything she else she did.
“She lives right beside me,” Gregory continued.
“Yeah, we share yards,” I added.
Laura’s smile faltered. The color faded from her cheeks. A frantic glance between us, unmasked—and then she turned back to her locker, digging in it for books as though she were arms-deep in Mary Poppins’ bag.
“So I guess you heard the craziness at my house last night?” she asked, her casual tone not very well faked. She covered with an over-hearty laugh. “I’m really sorry. Some friends just got … out of control, I guess.” She sounded dead inside, like a woman covering for an abuser, or someone trying to explain why Coldplay was actually good.
I decided to not beat around the bush. Not this time. Not with three minutes until homeroom. My record had been spotless since January.
“And here I thought that you had vampire stalkers.” I shrugged, my hands in my pockets. “Color me embarrassed if they’re just a bunch of losers of the garden variety.”
Laura’s face fell as she stared back at me—and then she laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, right. Funny.” Her eyes popped a little as she made spooky fingers with her hands. “Vampires. Right.”
“It’s okay,” I said, and reached across to her, placing my hand on her shoulder. “I had one too. A really bad one.” I had to admit that it was odd to be talking about the vampires so frankly in school. And with someone other than Xandra.
Someone Should Save Her Page 4