Page 9 of To Save a Vampire
I expect Forty-four to attack me as soon as the smell of blood hits the air, but he doesn’t. I raise my open hand into the air to make him more aware of the bleeding wound and walk toward him, my palm out like an offering. Blood runs down my arm and colors the brown leaves on the ground crimson.
His brow creases in confusion or possibly curiosity, before slowly releasing Ky. He points the end of the knife Ky’s way as a reminder and walks toward me.
“Don’t,” Ky says loudly. Forty-four only glares at him, his jaw twitching the whole time. “Just don’t hurt her,” he says a little quieter, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t reach for his gun. He just watches with a strange interest in his eyes.
Forty-four stands in front of me now, looking from my eyes to my bleeding palm. My heart is pounding with fear even though he doesn’t look like he’s going to attack and murder me at any minute. He looks … worried.
He takes the short sleeve of his white t-shirt and tears it off. He rips it a few more times until he has shredded pieces of fabric in his hand. He tucks the knife into his belt and reaches for my hand. I move back, not completely ready to trust the pike. He holds his hand out closer to me, almost impatiently. I give in like a child who didn’t get her way and shove my bleeding hand into his palm.
He wipes the blood away the best he can before wrapping the wound with the other pieces of cloth. The white material turns red instantly and he exhales heavily before ripping the other sleeve off and wrapping it around my palm as well. Ky astoundingly stares at Forty-four. I’m staring a little myself.
“Sorry,” I say guiltily.
My mother jogs up to us from the compound, the alarm still ringing from within the walls. I expect her to escort Forty-four back to the compound, but she runs right past us. From behind a large tree a few feet away, she pulls out three backpacks and hands one to Ky and one to Forty-four. The three of them put the packs on without question, in synchronized motions.
“Forty-four, this is my friend Ky and my daughter Fallon, who you already met.” Her eyes drift to the thin cut on Ky’s neck. “I didn’t expect Ky to be joining us, but we are lucky to have him here.” She stares warily at Forty-four; relaxation settles into his posture with her short explanation.
She nods at Ky, who doesn’t acknowledge Forty-four in the least as he wipes a trickle of blood from his neck. Then my mother starts off at a swift jog down the tree line, Forty-four right behind her, Ky grudgingly running behind them, leaving me, bandaged hand still raised, staring after them like a turtle watching a herd of gazelles.
A few stunned seconds pass through my mind before my feet instinctively start jogging after them.
“What the hell was that? Why are we jogging?” I ask in a quick rant through straining breaths when I finally manage to make it to her side.
“Fallon, watch your mouth. We’re leaving the camp for a while to give … Forty-four a chance at a future. Now please save your questions for later,” my mother says in a fast reply.
She shames me all in one easy breath like it was nothing to jog through a forest giving adolescent speeches in the sweltering heat.
I take a peek at Forty-four who stares straight ahead, ignoring my outburst entirely. His body moves with confidence, expelling the gesture naturally the way most people exhale air. His spine is straight, his movement’s fluid, his chest minimally rising under the strain of our pace.
My stomach twists with fear as I remember the tale of the Red Hills. The land that is physically tainted and cursed from the battle between the mystics and the mortals. The last battle in the war that brought the vampires reign and existence to an end. I know nothing of the world outside my camp. What if we venture too far? Into cursed land?Why would she risk it?Is it worth risking our lives to save one pike?The guards that hauled Emily away flash through my mind.What if we’re caught?
I fall back behind Ky and Forty-four with Ripper at my heels, forcing space between myself and everyone else. Ripper runs happily with his tongue out like we’re playing his favorite game. My fear and anger grow with each long step we take through the humid trees. I was eating cake less than an hour ago! How did I go from eating cake to running aimlessly through the forest to help an escaped pike?
I continue my angry monolog in my head as we run for the next twenty minutes, until Forty-four speeds up to run effortlessly next to my mother’s side. He runs with ease, no sweat, no heavy breathing, nothing to show the slightest extended effort as they sign to one another. I’m sweating from every pore in my body. I inhale sharply causing a pain in my lower left side, and I let the warm air sting my throat in bitter revenge for our unplanned exercise.
Finally, I stop and double over with my hands on my knees, causing pain to shoot through my sliced palm. Forty-four stops dead in his tracks to wait quietly for me. He notices my absence instantly, while my mother continues on alone for a moment.
“We’re almost there, hun. Catch your breath and we will start back up in a few,” she says calmly with only minimal sweat on her brow.
Who is this woman I have been calling my mother for the last seventeen years? She is perfectly poised while I practically have a seizure for lack of air. Her straight blonde hair is pulled back flawlessly and my dark waves elude little curls from my hair tie, curls that plaster to my face and neck.
“Where are we going?” I push out between breaths.
Forty-four stands tensely beside me and lifts his hand above me like he might touch my shoulder. Then, he lowers it back to his side before vaguely pointing in the distance to the forest of trees. A few more trees that possibly have more trees behind them. How enlightening.
“Well, never mind, how silly of me to ask.” I stomp forward, away from him to confront my mother.
Her eyes just now catch sight of my wrapped hand; mother of the year is just noticing me. Her gaze shifts to Forty-four, an accusation flashing in her eyes. She says nothing, only stares daggers at him for several moments. If she thinks he’s hurt me, she doesn’t voice it.
“Why is it he knows where we are rushing off to and I don’t?” I ask, trying to push the petulant child-like whine from my voice.
“Because,” my mother is quiet when she speaks, looking only at the dying colorless leaves that occupy the ground, “he’s leading us.”
Three
Safe Haven
My mothernever actually admits where we’re going. However, the farther we walk the more sure I am of our destination. She also doesn’t explain why we’re going there with an escaped pike either. I follow though. Always the compliant daughter. It’s best to not ask questions when you have so few choices in life.
