Someone Should Save Her

by Robert J. Crane

  Mill was dying, and it was like I was dying with him.

  Xandra cried again, and she was staring hard at the alleyway.

  I followed her again and saw— “What the …?”

  Gregory and Laura appeared out of the shadows, both with stakes in hand, and Gregory had a cross held out in front of himself like a shield.

  Ivan didn’t see them, but Roxy did. She wheeled around and refocused her attention on me like the predator she was. Laura made to move toward me, but I held my hand out to her.

  “No!” I said. “Help Mill!”

  “But—”

  “Go!” I said.

  Roxy looked amused. “You can’t be serious. This … is your cavalry? A couple of humans?” Her eyes flashed as she recognized Laura. “At least you saved me the trouble of tracking her down.”

  And then Roxy was in front of me, her fingers wrapped tightly around my neck.

  Searing pain bloomed in my head. I sputtered, coughed, and tried to draw a breath. But it didn’t matter. I could only get a fraction of the oxygen I needed.

  I grappled with her fingers, but they were like frigid iron on my neck.

  Stars popped in my vision.

  “Xan … dra …” I sputtered.

  “Get used to not breathing,” Roxy said quietly, rage filling her eyes as she squeezed even tighter. “You have no idea how much I want to just crush your throat right now …”

  At that moment, part of me just hoped she would. I hoped that her hatred of me would push her over the edge and she’d just kill me once and for all. I couldn’t bear watching Gregory or Laura die, let alone Xandra or Mill.

  I didn’t want any of it.

  And with that thought, Roxy sent me flying through the air again.

  I hit the ground—and she was on me again in a blur.

  “I might have a little bite before Draven has his turn,” she said, grinning. “After all, I doubt I’ll get a chance to see what your blood tastes like after this.”

  Roxy was not a very big girl. She couldn’t have been taller than me, and she certainly weighed less than I did.

  Being a vampire definitely made her stronger than me, but not heavier.

  Panting, I stopped struggling against her as she lowered her face to my neck. As soon as she felt my muscles relax, she relaxed too—and that was when I bucked her off of me. Thrusting my feet underneath her, I kicked out with all of my remaining strength, screaming at the pain in my ribs, sending her off of me, and into the street.

  I rolled onto my side.

  Roxy rose—

  But she was out of luck. A car hurtled down the street, headlights flaring.

  Its horn blared—

  Too late.

  The car struck Roxy square in the hip.

  Her body careened through the air like a doll, spinning and seemingly weightless. She crashed into a bus stop—

  The glass of the bus stop windows shattered, and the metal bent, crunching and crumpling beneath her as she landed.

  The car screeched to a halt.

  I stared—the driver too—world frozen—

  Was she …?

  “ARGH!”

  The scream Roxy unleashed as she rose from the crumpled, ruined bus stop was like no other. It was pure, unbridled rage as its most powerful, a roar that went on and on into the pre-dawn light. Shards of glass rained off of her as she unfolded her body, apparently no worse for wear.

  The driver swore, eyes wide. Then he threw the car into reverse and drove squealing back the way he’d come.

  “Nice try,” Roxy said, picking a piece of glass out of her hair and flicking it to the ground. “But you’re going to have to do better than that.”

  Nothing was going to stop her.

  Chapter 37

  Roxy started toward me again, and I bolted away from her. I was getting farther and farther away from Mill and his fight, but it was going better. Either Laura or Gregory had managed to pour holy water onto Ivan, because he had stopped using one of his hands to fight with.

  Now Gregory was circling around behind him with a stake, and Laura was standing off to the side, ready to throw more water.

  Taking the only chance that I had, I dashed over to Xandra, still lying on the ground.

  “Hey,” I said, breathing heavily. “No, don’t move. Let me try—”

  “Cassie!” Xandra shouted, managing to displace the sheet gag enough to speak, her eyes wide as she stared behind me.

  I was struck in the side again by Roxy’s heeled boot. Pain seared through me from my broken ribs. I staggered to my feet—ran—

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Roxy stared after me for a second before giving chase.

  The sky above was starting to turn pink, and I could see everything around me that wasn’t bathed in the light from the lamp posts or Draven’s building.

  “Stop delaying the inevitable,” Roxy called. She wasn’t running after me. Which was good, because she could run me down in about a second flat.

  I turned around and faced her, a solid twenty feet between us. “You really think I’m just going to give up?”

  Time was my friend once more. Or my enemy, depending how it all worked out. I’d needed time to help Mill. Gregory and Laura had come to the rescue. Now the sun was starting to rise. It wasn’t far off, now. Reds and golds glowed from the east, as thin as ribbons along the horizon.

  If I could keep her off of me just a little longer …

  “I’m not an idiot, Cassie,” Roxy said, face twisting. “I know what you’re doing. You have no chance of seeing the sunrise again. You’re done.”

  I was never a morning person. I’d rather stay awake until two in the morning and get up just before lunchtime.

  But I promised myself then and there that I would wake up every morning for the rest of my days and watch the sunrise if I could just see this particular one.

  “This night wasn’t a total waste,” I said—buying myself as much time as I could manage. “We took down two of your posse. They won’t hurt anyone else, ever.”

  Roxy flashed toward me in a blur and her fingers snagged my wrist, tight.

  Crap. Not yet.

  I looked up at the sky, willing the sunrise to speed up. Come on, come on …

  It was as if someone was holding the sun under the horizon, preventing it from cresting. Brilliant, bright streaks of pinks and oranges and yellows filled the sky, but no sunlight.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Roxy’s other hand knotted itself in my hair and she yanked back, then dragged me. My eyes screwed up and I grabbed onto her hand, trying to wrench it free, trying not to rip my hair from my scalp myself.

  She was muttering something, but I couldn’t hear her through the blood thumping in my ears. Down the street we went—I fought, legs kicking out—damn it, why couldn’t the sun just burst from the horizon and end this?—but she pulled me like I weighed nothing, and though I thrust myself back, jerked, hoping to snap every strand of hair wrapped about her fingers, I couldn’t—get—free! An engine roared: a more bass drone, less muted. Not a car, but a motorcycle.

  It tore down the street—and screeched to a stop in front of Roxy.

  The rider wore a black leather suit, from head to foot, their face hidden by a helmet that looked as if it was made out of the same metal that Draven’s sweep team had had.

  Roxy glared. “Who the—?”

  The rider didn’t answer in words.

  They sent a leveling, devastating punch to Roxy’s jaw that sent her reeling.

  Roxy’s grip on my hair evaporated as she crumpled to the ground. That punch had hit her harder than the car.

  Panting, I stood up straight, staring in awe at the motorcycle driver.

  The driver flicked the visor on the helmet up, and I caught a glimpse of sad, blue eyes, and a wisp of silvery blonde hair.

  “Iona?” I asked, blinking, clutching my hair.

  “You just couldn’t stay out of this, could you?” Iona said.
r />   The sun had finally crested over the horizon, bathing the street in golden beams of bright light.

  Iona snapped her visor shut again, and reached down to where Roxy was lying, grabbed a fistful of her hair. Then, like Roxy had with me, she began to drag her out and into the street—toward the light of the sun.

  “Hey, Roxy!” I called. “So … not to go all 80’s action movie on you, but … wanna take a selfie?”

  Roxy screeched with rage.

  “No?” I asked. “I can hashtag it ‘#blooddays’?”

  She fought Iona, but like me with her … it didn’t go so well. She writhed, but Iona’s steely grip did not fail, and she pulled Roxy along helplessly.

  I wheeled around to where Ivan and Mill had been fighting and saw a pile of black blood seeping out from an indistinguishable lump.

  “Mill …” I said, but saw Gregory and Laura a few feet away, still in the shadow of Draven’s building, each with one of Mill’s arms, pulling him across the lot back toward the alley as he sun crept along the street. The car had tinted windows. He’d be safe in there. They made it to the cover of shadows just as the sunlight drenched the alley entrance.

  I heaved a sigh of relief and sank down onto the asphalt of the drive-up to the hotel. Faint sunlight touched Roxy’s skin as Iona pulled her out, exposing her to daylight—and then her screams started for real. With one last heave, Iona threw her out into the middle of the road, effortless despite her even smaller frame.

  The sunlight was paralyzing. Roxy couldn’t right herself—could only writhe and shriek as the sun lit her in a faint glow—and her skin cracked, peeling and then disintegrating like dust.

  I watched, side by side with Iona—enjoying it, not at all sickened with myself. Roxy deserved this—and I hoped it hurt as much as it sounded.

  “That last line was terrible,” Iona said finally, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “What?” I said. “‘Do you want to take a selfie with me’?”

  “No,” Iona said flat, “the #blooddays one. Though that one wasn’t much better.”

  Roxy’s screams turned to splutters, weakening as she disintegrated—until there was nothing left; only a pile of foul-smelling black tar turning to dust, shifted and dispelled by the morning breeze.

  I was delirious. I couldn’t believe that I was standing there, still living, my heart still beating.

  And Roxy was dead.

  “Want to come up with a hashtag?” I pressed Iona.

  “Sure,” she said.

  “Really?”

  “I’d go with ‘no filter’.”

  I hesitated. “Wait. Are you talking about me or the picture?”

  Iona gave me another small smirk, barely visible through the black visor, then turned to watch the last of Roxy’s ashes disappear into the wind.

  The sun was up. Roxy was gone. Gregory and Laura had been totally crazy somehow and beaten Ivan … and Mill was safe.

  It was over.

  The longest night of my life was finally over.

  Chapter 38

  “Oh my—Xandra!”

  I was an idiot. Such an idiot. How had I forgotten her? How had I—

  “Relax, Cassie.”

  Iona, helmet firmly in place, pulled a knife from her back pocket and walked with me back down toward where Xandra lay.

  “Xandra, I am so, so sorry—” I said, kneeling beside her as Iona started hacking away at the bonds around her wrists and legs. “It was just—Roxy and then the sun, and then Iona—”

  “Cass, I get it,” Xandra said. Her lips were cracked and her voice was hoarse. I wished I had water to give to her. “I’m just glad you didn’t leave me here. Also, I’m pretty sure all of the blood is gone from my hands and feet.” She gave Iona an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

  “The mention of blood is not going to send me into a frenzy,” Iona said, pulling Xandra’s wrists free.

  After getting Xandra to her feet, I threw an arm around her and helped her to the car where I hoped everyone else would be waiting. Safely. In one piece.

  Lockwood waited beside the car, in the shadow of the Draven’s condo building. He tipped his hat to us as we approached and came to help me with Xandra.

  “Who’s—oh, I don’t even care anymore,” Xandra said as Lockwood effortlessly took the brunt of her weight.

  “Where’s everyone else?” I asked.

  Lockwood spared me a glance and a smile. “In the car.”

  “Are they okay?”

  “They’re fine.”

  “And Mill?”

  “He needs rest, but he’ll be fine.”

  That dredged up another sigh of relief from me.

  Lockwood opened the passenger door to the car and gently helped Xandra inside the car. Xandra gave me a questioning look, but as I went to follow Lockwood around the car, Iona stopped me.

  “What?” I asked.

  She looked at me through the tinted visor. “I still can’t believe you chose to get involved in all of this.”

  My cheeks flushed, and I tried to swallow the lump in my throat.

  “I should have listened to you,” I said quietly. “Then none of this would have happened.”

  I couldn’t see Iona’s face, hidden behind the visor of her helmet. But I could see myself in a distorted reflection. Grimy, covered in dirt, and tear-stained. My hair was a wild mess, and my last resort stake still stuck out from my bun. I looked like a million bucks right now.

  “You don’t know how any of this would have unfolded if you had ignored it,” Iona said. “Your friend could very well have been turned.”

  Wait … was she … complimenting me?

  Iona nodded to the car behind me. “Because of you, she’s safe and sound, and her pursuers are dead.”

  “No, that was thanks to you,” I said. The image of Roxy being pulled by her own hair down to the street flashed across my mind. Maybe I should be more afraid of Iona than I have been. “How did you know I was here?”

  Iona flicked open her visor, and I found that she was looking behind me again.

  I turned to see the chauffeur walking back around the side of the car.

  “Lockwood told you?” I asked.

  She nodded. “He drives for a few of us. Said Mill had called him for a favor, that he needed someone who would keep quiet. Lockwood’s perfect for that. He’s been working with me for a long time.”

  I looked back at Lockwood, and he leaned casually against the car, hands folded in front of himself. He smiled at me, green eyes sparkling knowingly.

  “I’m glad Mill had the sense to call him,” Iona went on. “He let me know that you’d gone to the theater. And after that, back here to Draven’s hotel. If I hadn’t been halfway across the state, I’d have been here sooner.”

  “What were you doing all the way on the other side of the state?”

  Her eyes flashed. “Wondering how you managed to incite war talks between territories.”

  She peered at me through the visor. “He went to Miami?”

  I filled her in about Charlie and how Mill had given him holy water.

  Iona’s pencil thin eyebrows arched, and she gave an appreciative nod. “Clever Mill. That was an effective way to deal with them, wasn’t it? Right under their noses …”

  Her eyes narrowed again, and she gave me a peculiar look.

  “It is interesting, though.”

  “What is?”

  “Why Mill risked so much to protect you.”

  I blinked at her. So I wasn’t the only one who thought it was weird that he’d done all that for me.

  She didn’t seem to have the answer to that though—and I suspected I wouldn’t get it if I asked Mill. Instead, I asked, “Why’d you get involved? Why keep risking your neck to help me? Especially this time, when you warned me not to … and I did anyway?”

  “I already told you,” Iona said. “I don’t want you to end up like me.”

  “I get that, but—”

  “No buts,” Iona w
ent on. She looked up at the sky over our heads. The sunlight couldn’t reach us in the shadow of the building, but the bright Florida blue was a welcome canopy above. The clouds were like cotton candy, all pink and fluffy.

  She sighed and put her hands on her hips.

  “Look, Cassie. This whole thing—” she gestured between us “—is complicated. It has been from the very beginning. When Byron showed up in your life, I felt like it was my duty to help you. You were so stupid and knew absolutely nothing about this whole vampire world. You would have ended up like me if I hadn’t stepped in.”

  “Hey, now,” I said crossly. “Way to help me up and then kick me back down all in one. Very efficient.”

  She looked back up at me, and there was such sorrow in her stare. “You don’t understand. I used to be just like you. My life was perfect for a seventeen-year-old. I had everything that I could have ever wanted. Everything. I had a family, and friends. I was smart. I had a future.”

  My heart ached. I wanted to hug the poor girl.

  “I had a boyfriend at the time, too. He was a little older. But my mom liked him, and he was talking about getting me a ring …”

  She held up her gloved hands to me.

  “Now … I’m cold and untouchable, and things don’t feel the same. After Byron … they never were the same …”

  I wanted to ask her a million more questions, like what had happened to her parents, or her boyfriend. What had she told them? Had they just declared her missing and never found her? Because Byron had stepped into her life, because he had messed with her like he had tried to do with me, she’d had everything ripped away from her.

  “All that I feel now is the craving,” Iona said. “It’s the only thing I really feel. There are still emotions, but … after he turned me? Everything was dampened but the hunger. Like someone put a plastic bag over the world. But people are vivid; you can smell the flavor of them.” Good thing she was wearing a helmet, otherwise I might have worried for my neck.

  Iona shook her head. “I still had the memories of my father laughing as he pushed me on the swing, the scent of cookies baking as my mother cleaned flour off the tip of my nose. Byron wanted me to forget the past, what came before. But I couldn’t. I never have. They just faded from bright memories to desperately grey. How was I just supposed to forget all that when I hadn’t chosen to be this way?”