Page 32 of Accidental Vampire

Aurora handed over the keys to the van. There must be another part of the garage where they stored their vehicles. I adjusted the girl in my arms. It wasn’t the weight, carrying an unconscious body was always awkward unless you threw them over your shoulder. I took my time, the footing was unsure with all the debris. I heard the car turn over, and a mighty curse reverberated in the vast space.

“Fuck my mother!”

We all pulled up short. Zinnia cocked the shotgun.

Shaw stood and hung an arm over the door. “How fucking rude of you to show up with a dead vamp in your car. We charge a premium for body disposal. And vehicle detailing is not included.”

Zinnia made a disgusted sound. “Great. Just great. You’re going to be a nightmare. Thank god you’re loaded.” She turned on a heel and continued to the far door.

Aurora gave me a shrug and fell in line.

Everything was going to be fine. I’d make it fine.

Shaw caught up just as Zinnia was twisting the third key in a heavy steel door. He held it open as we all filed through. I shifted Tiffany in my arms. Aurora quick-stepped to catch up with Zinnia as we walked down a long dark hallway speckled with an occasional nondescript door. She knew exactly where she was going. Not her first time here.

Zinnia paused at another door and used the nose of the shotgun to push it open. She ushered us in with a sweeping gesture. The room was large and cold. Someone had tried to cover up the industrial elements with shabby tapestries and tattered rugs. There was a bed, a seating area, and a few wardrobes. I nestled Tiffany in the corner of the couch, propping her head so she’d be comfortable.

Aurora was chatting it up in the hall. Apparently, there was a spare room here she used regularly. I shouldn’t be surprised. Aurora was well known for dubious associations.

“Lachlan,” she called for me, “they want to go over some basic security stuff.”

I arranged the blanket more tightly around Tiffany and stepped out of the room. Zinnia was droning on about the floor plan, security gates and other nonsense I couldn’t be bothered to focus on. I crossed my arms, nodded at all the right places.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Shaw step into the room and swiftly shut the door. Metal scraped, then there was a sharp ping sound. I rattled the handle, pushed, it wouldn’t budge. My blood thundered in my ears. I matched the pounding of my heartbeat with my fist on the door.

The entire wall shook. I pounded again and again. I would bring all the concrete and steel down around us if I had to.

TWENTY-FOUR

TIFFANY

I shot straight up, suddenly aware of everything. Everything. From my fingernails growing to the buzz of electricity in the air. It was too much. I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my ears. This pounding in my head. It reverberated through my whole body. I could feel it in my teeth. It was like being stuck in a beer keg that some frat boy was using for bongos.

The pounding retreated slightly to be more external, like it was coming through the floor and the walls. I let my fingers explore the fabric beneath me, not ready to open my eyes just yet. It was coarse and nappy. I curled my fingers under, not liking the texture at all. My foot flopped to the ground when I shifted to sit up, making me gasp like on a roller coaster drop.

I cracked one eye, just slightly. This couch wasn’t here before. My eyes adjusted to the light. This was not the gray cell. There were soft looking fabrics in every color covering the walls. The dark ceiling had industrial lighting and exposed pipes. There was a bed, the small couch I was sitting on, and a coffee table. Tattered rugs covered the floor in a mismatched patchwork of colors and textures. An open door had blinding white tile peeking out from behind it.

He was so still, my gaze just skipped him like he was part of the decor.

Deer in head lights.I finally understood what that meant. I was frozen. I couldn’t even breathe when my brain eventually put it together that I was not alone.

His skin was a soft tan, darker than Monique’s, with all these sharp angles, and strong cheekbones and jaw. The nose would have looked overbearing on any other face. His eyes should have been a deep brown, given his coloring, but they were pale, not blue, not like Lachlan’s at all. A light brown speckled with darker bits that just highlighted the fierce look he was staring me down with. His hair was shaved on the sides, the top was long and tied back. I could tell it would be thick and curly if I ran my fingers through it. He perched on the edge of a battered dresser, long legs kicked out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His hands curled around the edge of the dresser top, one finger drumming in time to the pounding in my head.

He hadn’t moved, save for that finger, not even a lip twitch. Fuck. I was prey. This was what prey felt like. Whoever this guy was, he was dangerous.

Where was Lachlan? Lachlan was dangerous too, because he killed me, and whatnot. But the devil, you know, right? This guy was a vampire. I don’t know how I knew it, but I knew it.

I was done with waking up in unfamiliar rooms with unfamiliar men.

“Did a yard sale throw up in here?” I swallowed. My voice was rough. I rearranged myself into a better sitting position, tucking my bare feet under me. They made me feel oddly vulnerable next to his worn boots. I dusted off my hands like the place was dirty.

“Your decorator barfed up every Pinterest trend from the last decade. It’s missing a “Live, Laugh, Love” sign on the wall.”

A smile picked up one side of his mouth. I bet he had a gorgeous smile, but he didn’t seem thelet me dazzle you with boyish charmtype. My tongue was pasty and dry. I ran it over my teeth and jumped when I cut it on a fang. Oh, right, fangs. That little burst of blood made me shiver. He tilted his head. That was the only movement he made into the uncomfortable silence.

“Who are you?” His voice was rich and buttery, like he made his money voicing cologne and razor commercials. The pounding that was shaking the walls seemed to increase, providing a good cover-up to the shivers that started at the sound of his voice.

“I am…” I thought for a second. I’ve listened to roughly 50,000 hours of true crime podcasts and if I learned one thing, it was to hoard information. I pulled myself up with a straight spine, like I’d seen my mother do a million times when she was about to go all Karen on someone. “I am,” I put extra emphasis in my voice, “in need of water, socks, and Lachlan.”

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