Page 99 of Road Trip with a Vampire
Before I could come up with any sort of plan, before I could evenreactto what John Richardson was saying, Peter had reached him. He held a stake-tipped dagger above his head.
“What—” Richardson began, eyes wide with surprise.
Before he could even cry out, Peter plunged the stake directlyinto John Richardson’s heart. The older vampire exploded instantly into a cloud of dust and deafening noise.
When he turned back to look at me, Peter looked like he’d aged ten years. His eyes were wide, wild.
“Zelda, get out of here!” he shouted. The warehouse had now filled with the shouts and footfalls of vampires stampeding towards us. The cacophony made it impossible to think, made it nearly impossible to hear what Peter was telling me. “Run!Go!”
I probably should have stayed to fight with him. But in that moment, I didn’t,couldn’tthink beyond Peter’s command and the pressing urgency of my own survival.
Half a moment later, I reached into my pouch of transporting powder with shaking hands, dumped half its contents onto my head, and was gone.
Twenty-Three
A crumpled letter written in fading ink on badly yellowing paper, found at the bottom of Zelda’s top dresser drawer, addressed to Grizelda Watson and dated June 30, 1914
My Dear Miss Watson,
It pains me to have to part with my transporting powder. However, I cannot deny that you won our bet fair and square. How was I to know that Archduke Franz Ferdinand was such a bleeder? Remind me to never again place wagers on the lives and times of Central European royalty when you are present!
May you use this powder for good fun and hijinks, just as I have over the many years it has been in my possession.
Yours very sincerely,
—F
The hotel I vanished tohad to have been the fanciest place in all of south-central Indiana, but I hardly noticed the chandeliers in the lobby or the beautiful local artwork on the walls when I checked in. I was a tangled mess of emotion, too wrapped up in my anger and confusion to focus on anything but collapsing into the first bed I could find.
Peter had tricked me into feeling something for him while he’d been lying to me for weeks. My fury was boundless. But my anger wasn’t only with him. I was just as angry with myself for being gullible enough to believe his lies in the first place—to say nothing of how livid I was with my past self for having been so reckless in everything I did.
If I’d been a normal immortal witch and played by the rules, none of this would have happened.
What exactlyhadhappened in that warehouse, though? Peter had lied to me, yes. But he’d also staked John Richardson with no hesitation, then stayed behind to deal with the fallout while I ran away like a coward. If Peter was truly in cahoots with The Collective—if everything he’d told me was a lie and he had no feelings for me at all—would he have done any of that?
And was he okay now? Had he been able to handle all those vamps by himself? On top of everything else, I still worried about his safety.
Gods, I was such an idiot.
When I got to my room on the fifth floor, I flung myself face down on the bed, overwhelmed and exhausted. I still needed to Uber back to the warehouse to get my car, which I’d abandoned there in my haste to get away. I also needed to decide what to doabout The Collective. They’d gone after Reginald in the past with far less to go on than they had on me. Even if Peter had managed to dispatch everyone in that warehouse, the chucklefucks who’d sent him after me in the first place wouldn’t let their centuries-long grudge go just because I’d gotten away.
Later, though.
All of it would have to wait until the world stopped spinning and my thoughts and feelings made sense again.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I didn’t have the energy to deal with whoever might be trying to reach me. Especially if it was Peter. Taking a bath in the room’s gorgeous bathroom seemed like a better call. If I’d ever deserved some pampering, it was then.
I stripped, then stumbled to the tub, dumping half the little bottle of soap by the sink into the swirling water. I watched in a stupor as hot water and bubbles filled the porcelain basin before climbing in and submerging myself.
By the time I got out forty-five minutes later, my fingers had pruned up and I had calmed down enough that the idea of looking at my phone felt doable.
I’d missed texts from Peter and Reggie.
Peter:I am so sorry.
Peter:Can you call me? I can explain everything.
Peter:But I also understand if you never want to see me again.
