Page 8 of Pieces of Halves

“You are strange,” she whispers.

“So are you.” I chuckle.

Relief washes over me. She really shouldn’t trust people so easily, but at the moment, I am glad she does.

The walk to the hotel is quiet, but I don’t mind. There seems to be a lot on Izzy’s mind as I try to figure her out. A vampire on the run from vampires? That is strange, but she is not any vampire though; she comes from money. Her skin is too soft and clean, her nails are manicured, and her hair is shiny and healthy, even if tied messily into a bun. This could only mean that the person looking for her also has money; the men chasing her looked like they cost a hefty price.

Who are you running from?I steal a quick glance at her from the corner of my eye.

I take a turn to a large set of wooden doors with intricately carved frames. It is not the most luxurious hotel in town, but not the worst either. It will do the job of providing a roof over our heads for the night. Plus, I would love a quiet place where I could talk to her.

I also need a place where I know she is safe, so I can comfortably investigate the area. Just because Izzy knows where the witches are, it doesn’t mean there aren’t other things I can learn. I understand my mother could be a manipulative and awful being, but the more I know, the better.

“No. I cannot afford that.” She stops on the sidewalk and refuses to follow me into the red-brick building.

Sighing, I look back at her. When will she understand that I don’t expect her to pay for anything? She is on a run. Of course, she doesn’t have any money.

“How about this? You earn your keep with the head massage and don’t bring up the fact that you don’t have money again,” I tell her.

Her eyes shoot up at me, and I think I see a proud sparkle in them.

“Fine. I will accept that offer.” She nods firmly.

It’s a selfish deal, but it worked to help her feel at ease.

There is a large bed in the middle of the room and a few chairs by the windows, which are covered with a light sheer curtain. Izzy walks in and immediately drops her body on the bed – face down.

“It’s a real bed,” she groans dramatically, her arms spread out.

Laughing quietly, I set my bag on one of the chairs by the window and watch her. We are alone in a place where no one is chasing us. Right now is a good time to ask her questions and figure out who I am dealing with. Instead, I take a few more seconds to observe her. Vampires are mainly known to be evil and greedy. She is sweet, kind, and strange. Slightly weird as well, but that is the part that draws me to her the most.

With a deep breath, I make my way to the bed and squat next to it, resting my forearms on the mattress. She notices my movement and looks at me. A strand of her long hair falls over her face, and the urge to tuck it behind her ear tugs at me. Before I follow through with the desire, she does it.

“Who are you running from?” I watch her reaction carefully.

She looks down and suddenly, the small threads of the dark covers become very interesting.

“No one.” She looks up again and offers me a playful shrug. “How about you?” she asks, and I can see by the way her eyes dim that she’s shoving something painful as far as possible.

She deflected quickly. If I push any further, I worry she will shut down. Disappointed that I am not getting far with her, I exhale and let go of the subject.

“I’m not running, I am looking for someone,” I respond. Maybe if I share a little about myself, she will be more willing to talk. “I’m looking for my mother. She left when I was very little. I want to find her and find out why,” I say, and her gaze softens.

“Oh…” she mumbles. “I’m sorry. That must be hard.” There is so much sympathy in her eyes.

“It’s okay. My father was a wonderful man. He gave me enough love to replace the emptiness of her absence.” I offer her a small smile.

My father was a good man. He raised me well. I cannot imagine being eighteen and left alone with a newborn. He did his best to provide for me, and most of all, he loved me.

“Was?” she asks, her voice small.

“He died when I was sixteen,” I tell her, and her forehead furrows with sadness. “It’s okay. I had good friends and time to heal. I’m okay with everything that happened.”

If I’m honest, I had a good life. Yes, my mother left me when I was just a baby, my father tried covering it up, I have power in me that I only know about because someone gave me a ring on my twelfth birthday that has Tengu in there – an old demon that can materialize and talk – and the headaches are becoming more persistent. Hopefully, I can sort out the headaches before they kill me, but other than that, nothing to complain about.

“Um… the witches have a mansion in the forest. That is where they stay unless they are called for,” she says, and one side of her lips curves up.

That is where I planned on going, but I am not exactly sure where in the forest. It is massive, and going in blindly could take months. Based on the letters I found under my father's house, that is where they last were. That was twenty-six years ago, though.

---