Page 7 of Road Trip with a Vampire
From the sound of it, though, we’d just gotten another live one.
I stumbled out of bed, stripping off my pajamas and pulling on the first clean T-shirt and pair of shorts I found in my dresser.
Zelda:I’m coming
Zelda:Should we call the police?
Lindsay:I don’t think he’s dangerous
Lindsay:But I still don’t feel good about leaving to go teach while he’s here
The guy’s back was to me when I entered Yoga Magic from the rear entrance five minutes later, giving me an eyeful of broad shoulders, black T-shirt, and tousled dark hair. He was saying something to Lindsay in a voice that was somehow familiar, but I wasn’t listening closely enough to place it. I cleared my throat to get his attention, preparing to be the most assertive version of myself I ever let anyone in this new life see.
“Excuse me,” I said.
The man turned to face me.
Everything I’d been about to say died in my throat.
It was Peter from the night before.
“It’s you,” I said, surprised. I had originally thought Peter and I had shared something of a moment the night before, but that hope had been dashed when he’d run away before I could get his number. I certainly hadn’t expected him to take me up on my offer of a free class.
“It’s me,” he agreed.
Lindsay’s eyes bounced between the two of us. “You two know each other?”
“Sort of?” I admitted.
“Yes,” Peter said earnestly at the same time. “Last night she invited me to take a yoga class.”
Lindsay murmured something to the student standing next to her. Both women started chuckling quietly. I ignored them.
“I did say you could take a class,” I agreed. “But I’m not teaching right now. Lindsay’s about to teach Bikram Yoga, but that’s not a class for beginners. If you want to come back tomorrow…” I grabbed one of our printed schedules from the check-in counter and handed it to him. “I teach Yoga for Beginners tomorrow at noon. Will that work with your—?”
“I’m not here to take a class.”
I blinked at him. “But you just said—”
“What is your name?”
By this point, everyone in the studio was watching our conversation with great interest. “Zelda Turret,” I said, confused. “Remember? I introduced myself last night.”
“Yes, yes, I remember what you told me.” He waved an impatient hand. “But is your given name Grizelda Watson?” He enunciated each syllable slowly and carefully, as though concerned he wouldn’t say it right.
Every part of me froze.
Not just because he’d asked about a name I’d done everything I could to bury in the past.
But also because as he’d carefully said my given name, in my brightly lit studio, his mouth had parted just enough for me to see his teeth in a way I hadn’t last night in the dark.
To my shock and horror, Peter was sporting a pair of what were very obviously vampire fangs.
Three
From page 14 of theChicago Tribune, October 19 (dated ten years previously)
Fiery Single-Car Crash on I-88 Eastbound
