Page 19 of Blood Sport

Okay, so it doesn’t seem like she knows this guy is a vampire. That is a relief.

“I get that,” I say with a reassuring smile. “What’s his name? You don’t have to give me his full name if you don’t want to. And I promise I won’t mention it to the girls.”

If this guy is a vampire, I need to know who he is so I can make sure my best friend is safe.

Jaycee looks hesitant, unable to meet my eye. She must really like this guy if she’s so desperate to keep his identity a secret. She fiddles with the hem of her white shirt, chewing on her bottom lip.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

She sighs. “Fine. His name is Ethan.”

My eyes widen. There are probably a hundred Ethans’ on campus, but I can’t help but wonder if the Ethan she is talking about is the same one that plays on the WSU soccer team with Miles and Jaylen. It would make sense considering Jaylen was quick to defend the guy she had been with that night, almost as if he knew him personally.

I smile. “Your secret is safe with me, Jay.”

***

My heart is pounding in my chest as I walk up the small pathway to the front door and realize that all the lights are off in the house, which is unusual since my parents should be home making dinner after getting back from work.

On Wednesdays, I typically get home late because I go to after-school dance practice with Rylee. Her mom is kind enough to give me a lift home each week to save either of my parents from having to swing by the school, which is out of their way from where they work, to pick me up. Miles gets home even later than me because he, too, has after-school practice for soccer, so Jaylen’s mom drops him home.

Each week, I look forward to stepping through the front door and being hit with the smell of Mom’s delicious cooking wafting through the house from the kitchen and hearing the voices of news reporters coming from the TV while Dad catches up on the news.

Except, neither of those things happens when I walk through the front door.

With my hand on the doorknob, I look down the long hallway that opens into the kitchen. To my right, the living room is quiet with the TV switched off, and there are no delicious smells coming from the kitchen nor can I hear the sound of banging pots and pans or my mom’s voice as she hums along to the tune of whatever is playing on the record player. Usually, it’s Fleetwood Mac.

“Mom?” I call out as I close the front door behind me, my tennis shoes squeaking on the hardwood floor as I walk down the hallway. “Dad?”

When I reach the kitchen, I see two plates of half-eaten sandwiches on the dining table and two full glasses of water untouched. I frown as I take in the sight of the moonlight shining through the kitchen onto the table. I remember Mom saying she and Dad were going to take the day off from work to run some errands together, but it doesn’t explain why their lunch is still on the table. The house is in complete darkness beside the moonlight shining in through the windows, and they don’t seem to be home.

“Mom?” I try again, walking through the kitchen, and around the corner to the staircase. Maybe they’re just in their bedroom and didn’t hear me come in.

When I turn the corner, my heart leaps into my throat, twisting the air from my lungs as I struggle to breathe. The moonlight shining on the staircase illuminates the river of blood pouring down the steps, the droplets landing on the floor at the bottom into a large pool.

I try to stammer out words, but all that comes out are strangled breaths as I drop my backpack on the floor beside me and sink to my knees. I can see their bodies lying at the top of the staircase, their blood sliding down each step, and it takes everything in my body not to look at my mom’s soulless eyes.

But I do. Even unblinking, I can see the hurt behind her green eyes, which makes me wonder what the hell happened before I walked through the door. Who did this to them and why?

Why?

As tears begin to fall down my cheeks, my heart shattering in my chest, I catch a glimpse of a shadowy figure at the top of the staircase. My eyes widen when I realize it’s someone standing over my parents. I can’t tell if they’re looking at me or their bodies, but it’s enough for me to freeze where I am, unable to move as fear holds me hostage.

For a moment, the shadowy figure and I stare at each other, neither of us moving. I blink several times to make sure I’m not imagining the figure, but each time I open my eyes it’s still there, watching me, waiting. I thought I heard it say something, but all I could hear was the static ringing in my ears and my heart thrumming nervously.

The wind outside slams against the windows in the kitchen, rattling the glass. This must be enough to scare the figure because it turns and jumps through the upstairs window between my room and Miles’s, disappearing into the depths of the storm raging outside.

After a moment, I gather enough strength to jump to my feet, my heart pounding in my chest, and rush to the landline in the kitchen, knowing I need to call 911 and not think about who that figure was and why it jumped through the window to escape.

As the call goes through to 911, a woman picks up the phone, tears streaming down my cheeks and my body numb. I didn’t register when the police arrived at the house or when Miles got dropped home. I don’t remember being taken to the hospital for a check-up or even sitting in the waiting room at the police station with Miles’s arm wrapped around my shoulders as I cried into his side, my Aunt Jas watching on with tear-filled eyes.

All I could think about was who that shadowy figure was and if it was the reason my parents were dead.

Evie.

With a start, I throw myself into a seated position. I clutch at my chest as I struggle to force air into my lungs, the memories from that night coming to me clearer now. For years I suppressed that night and what I saw, not wanting to think about it ever again. But lately, I’m beginning to see more and more and it’s freaking me the fuck out.

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