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Authors: Gayla Twist

Tags: #Romance, #Fantasy, #Young Adult, #Vampires

Call of the Vampire (8 page)

BOOK: Call of the Vampire
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“You headed home or just heading out?” the man asked, one eyebrow cocked in what he must have assumed was a charming, devil-may-care expression.

I knew from my mom that any time a guy tried to block access to my car, my home, an exit, whatever, it was not a good sign. After all, if I was a man would he have been leaning against my car smirking? I doubt it. I was a teenage girl and my new friend was pleased to think he was in a position of power.

I did a quick inventory of the guy. He was in his late twenties, probably close to six feet tall; he was wearing a dirty jean jacket and had his arms folded awkwardly over his chest, possibly concealing a weapon. I took a brief scan of the parking lot. He appeared to be alone. Unfortunately, so was I.

I glanced back at the library just as the lights were turned off. That meant the door was locked from the inside, and the librarians were headed out the back to the staff parking lot on the other side of the building. “Crap,” I whispered to myself.

My actions appeared to amuse my new friend. He gave me a slow smile, very pleased with how uncomfortable he was making me. “Don’t you know where you’re going?” he asked.

“Step away from my car and leave me alone,” I said in a loud, firm voice. I actually had to force myself to say it with authority. My inner girl had almost said, “Would you please leave me alone?” but that was asking him to do something. That put him in charge.

“And what if I don’t want to?” he asked, his smugness continuing. “What if I say no?”

“Step away from my car and leave me alone,” I said in a much louder voice. I wasn’t going to engage him in his “what if” game of cat and mouse.

“Whoa, whoa, quiet down, now.” He held up both hands trying to gentle me. “There’s no reason to shout,” he said, lowering his own voice.

There was every reason to shout. The Tiburon Library wasn’t out in a cornfield somewhere. It was near the center of town, and there were houses on all sides. I wasn’t going to quiet down in hopes of placating the sleaze ball. “If you don’t step away from my car and leave me alone, I am going to start screaming my head off,” I told him in a voice that was just below yelling.

“Relax. You don’t have to be so uptight,” the perv told me. “I’m just trying to be friendly.”

“You’re not being friendly,” I told him. “You’re harassing me, and you’re blocking my access to my car.”

“I told you to be quiet,” he snapped at me, not at all pleased I wasn’t proving to be an easy target but still trying to gain control over me.

“No! Now get away from my car, and leave me alone,” I repeated at my loudest volume yet.

The guy gave me a look that was sheer venom. His easygoing demeanor had vanished. “You little bitch,” he said in a snarling whisper. “I was being nice, but now I am going to make you so sorry.”

The porch light went on at a house across the street, and I moved in that direction, never taking my eyes off the jerk for more than a second and still glancing around from time to time to make sure no one else was sneaking up on me. The door to the house opened and an old man shuffled out. “Is everything all right out here?” he asked.

“No, it’s not all right.” I looked over at him, just for a brief moment. “I need help.”

There was a sound like a flag flapping in a stiff breeze, accompanied by a muffled shriek.

“This jerk is harassing me and won’t let me into my...” I looked back to keep an eye on my potential assailant, but he was gone. Not just that he’d walked away—the parking lot was completely empty.

“What’s that, young lady?” the man on the porch asked.

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “There was some guy harassing me, but I guess he left when you came out. Would you mind standing there for a minute while I get in my car? I’m worried he might come back.”

“I guess so. Be quick about it,” the old man muttered.

“Thank you so much,” I called to him over my shoulder as I jogged over to my car, jammed my key in the lock, and scrambled inside, immediately locking the door again and starting up the engine.

Seeing me reasonably safe, the old man went back in his house. I released the clutch and pulled out of the parking lot. Where the hell was that guy? I scanned the sidewalks all around me. He had to be around somewhere. He didn’t just vanish into thin air.

I began to shiver a little. Partially because of my confrontation with the perv and partially because I didn’t know what happened to him. I was definitely spooked. When I got home, I pulled my car into the garage, something I usually don’t do in nice weather, and didn’t get out until the garage door was completely closed and I was sure no one was in there with me.

“Hi, honey,” my mom called from where she was sitting at the kitchen table as I let myself into the house. Her smile faded once she got a look at my face. “What’s wrong?” she asked, immediately concerned.

“I was at the library and some perv was harassing me in the parking lot,” I said, opening the fridge.

“You’re kidding,” she gasped, my statement turning her smile into a full frown. “What happened?”

“Well, I was the last one out of the lot and this jerk was just there, leaning on my car,” I told her, pouring myself a glass of milk.

“What did you do?” she wanted to know.

After I told her the full story, she said, “Can you describe him?”

“I guess so,” I said, shrugging.

“Good. We’ll go and talk to the police tomorrow. They should at least be alerted that there might be trouble.” We had a very well-funded police department, and they took their job of keeping Tiburon a nice town seriously. I was about to protest, but Mom anticipated me and added, “Honey, what if the next time he tries to prey on someone who doesn’t handle it as well as you did? You wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to someone else, would you?”

“No,” I had to admit.

“Good.” She got up and gave me a squeeze. “By the way, I’m not going to scold you for being alone in an empty parking lot at night because you handled it so well.”

This made me laugh a little. “Thanks, Mom.”

I didn’t say anything to my mother, but I had a very bad feeling about the guy in the parking lot. First of all, he was up to no good, and it’s always creepy when you encounter someone like that, but secondly, I felt weird about what happened to him. It was like he was just plucked off the pavement, vanishing into thin air. The thought had me jittery.

Heading up to bed, I gave some more thought to the local police. It was common knowledge that the Vanderlinds always made a sizeable donation to the department during funding events. Every year they got complimentary tickets to the policemen’s ball, and every year there was a rumor that they were actually going to attend, but they never did. It all suddenly made sense to me. Of course the Vanderlinds would want Tiburon to be a nice, safe place to live. If there was a murder or a drug ring or a missing person, they didn’t want detectives and the FBI and whoever poking around and possibly unearthing a little too much of their history. It was a very smart move. The vampires were more invested in the town than I’d ever imagined.

I closed my bedroom door and then pulled Jessie’s tux jacket out of the closet, like I’d been doing each night for the past couple of nights. It was starting to lose his fragrance. I’d sniffed it too much, but I couldn’t help myself. I hung it by its hanger from a hook on the back of the closet door and then straightened the fabric so it lay perfectly. The jacket was probably suspended an inch or two too high, but very close to where it would have been if Jessie were wearing it. Triple checking that the curtains to my room were closed and that my mom was still downstairs, I did what I did every night: put some music on the radio, closed my eyes, and slow danced with the tuxedo jacket. I knew I was being foolish, but I didn’t care. It was the closest I could come to having his arms around me. Besides, a girl shouldn’t be judged for the romantic foolishness she does alone in her room.

As I stood there, breathing in his faintly lingering scent, I felt almost hypnotized by the thought of him. We’d never danced, but it was like I could feel his strong arms around me, the faint warm penny smell of his breath, the look in his fathomless eyes.

How did I know his breath smelled like copper? I opened my eyes and considered. I guess it only made sense, given what he had to drink for dinner. That thought made me gag a little. I didn’t even like dealing with a scrape on my knee. The thought of drinking human blood in order to live made my stomach churn.

 

Chapter 11

Mom came to school Friday afternoon during my lunch period to pick me up. We went to the police station, and I had to fill out a report. The perv hadn’t physically accosted me or anything, but he had made threatening remarks and refused to give me access to my car. I was sure that in a big city, a perv harassing a high school girl wouldn’t warrant a police report, but in Tiburon, it was taken seriously.

“What are you doing tonight?” Blossom asked me when we bumped into each other in the hallway between classes that afternoon. “Jimmy’s cousin is in town, and he’s totally gorgeous. We could double.” Jimmy Stevens was Blossom’s latest flame. A very recent flame. I think she decided she’d better reel it in a little after being drugged and spending the night unconscious. She’d been being extra nice to me ever since our escapade from the castle without actually bringing the whole thing up. I think she knew on some level she’d crossed a line with me. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want to be friends with her anymore; I just needed a little break. Besides, going out with her would mean I couldn’t dance with Jessie’s jacket.

“Thanks, but I’m still pretty grounded,” I told her. I wasn’t grounded, of course, but she didn’t know that.

I had all my homework for the weekend done by eight o’clock on Friday night. I was turning into a real party girl. Still, there were vampires out in the world, so I wasn’t super excited about going out late at night.

Saturday, I worked the morning shift at Cup of Joe’s, my humble part-time, minimum wage job. Mornings are always the busiest and when you’re most likely to get a few tips. The steam from the cappuccino machine always sends my hair into overdrive, as far as curls are concerned. In the afternoon, I drove out to Ashtabula Care with Grandma Gibson’s photograph in an envelope and a plate full of ginger snaps. They were her favorite, and I wanted to thank her for lending me the photo.

“Aurora,” she sang out when I poked my head through her door. “Come here, my girl. Let me look at you.” She held her arms out to me from where she sat at her table, a deck of cards laid out in front of her.

“Hi, Grandma Gibson.” I walked in and gave her a hug. I loved when she recognized me. It usually meant she was in a good mood.

“Always such a beauty,” she said, touching my hair.

“Too bad none of the guys at my school think so,” I said, blushing.

“Well, don’t worry about them. Young boys are too foolish at your age to know what’s good.”

“I brought you some ginger snaps. Homemade,” I told her, in part to distract her from talking about my continued failures at romance.

“You made me ginger snaps?” she asked, beaming. “Aren’t you a sweet girl. Plug in my kettle, and we’ll have a real tea party.”

Ashtabula Care had rules against their residents having appliances—even hair dryers were illegal—but Grandma kept a contraband electric kettle so she could brew tea properly. I was pretty sure some of the nurses knew about it but were kind enough to look the other way. I pulled the kettle out from a hatbox in her closet and filled it with water from a plastic jug she had on the table.

“The blue cups, please, Aurora,” Grandma told me. “And the tea things.” She had a tea set of bone China and two different sets of cups and saucers, one blue with white and one green with pink flowers.

Once we were all set up with tea and snaps, I said to her, “I brought back your picture. Just like I said I would.”

“What’s that, now?” Grandma looked a little confused.

Fishing the envelope out of my bag, I handed to her. “Last time I was here, you lent me a photograph.”

“Did I?” she frowned slightly, sliding the black and white from its envelope. “Ah, the castle. Yes, I can see why you’d be interested in it.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, taking a sip of the scalding hot tea.

“Don’t you remember? You would ask me about it all the time when you were a little girl. I made the mistake of telling you once that I worked there for a few months, and then the questions never stopped.”

“How old was I?” Her story barely rang the faintest of bells.

“Oh, I’d say from when you were three, then every time I saw you after that for at least a couple of years.” That was before she had moved in with Mom and me.

“And what did you tell me about it?” I asked.

“As little as I could,” she said, busying herself with stirring sugar into her tea.

“Why don’t you like to talk about when you worked there?” I asked as gently as I could. She was having a good day, and I didn’t want to ruin it.

“I just don’t,” she said firmly.

“Okay.” I nodded, letting it drop. I tried to think back if there was anything I could dredge up out of my memory from when I was very little but came up with nothing. I may have asked her a zillion questions when I was younger, but I doubt she’d answered many.

Grandma spent some time looking at the photograph. I saw her blink hard a couple of times, and I wondered if she was upset. “Would you like me to put that back in the album for you, Grandma?” I asked. There was no reason to let her dwell.

“Would you, sweetheart?” She handed it to me. “And while you’re up, you’d better hide the kettle. Lord knows I don’t want to get caught with it. They’d throw me out, and I’d have to sleep on a bench in the park.”

 

It was late afternoon by the time I finished my visit with Grandma Gibson. She was getting tired, and I had formulated a new plan that I wanted to put into action immediately. While I was driving home, I stopped by a card shop. For a moment, I was tempted to get a card with an illustration of little boys playing basketball on the front that read, “Happy first birthday. You’re number one!” but wasn’t sure what vampires thought of offbeat humor. Eventually I decided on a blank card with two swans on the front gliding across a pond.

BOOK: Call of the Vampire
7.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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