Fatal (26 page)

There, I found a men's washroom unlocked and slipped into it. I flicked the deadbolt into place as the automatic fluorescent lights flickered to light.

It was a small bathroom, with two sinks, a urinal, and a stall. Not the most opulent hiding spot, but at least it smelled of pine-scented cleaner and there was no graffiti on the walls.

I went over to one of the sinks and drew some warm water, waiting a few seconds for it to heat up. I splashed my face, trying to clear my senses. Then I leaned forward on the counter, exam
ining my face in the mirror.

Most of my color seemed to be gone. I looked pale, like the snow outside, bloodless. My hair was darkened and lank from the snow that had melted in it before. Little red veins crawled around the whites of my eyes, seeming to stretch out for the iris.
Just looking at them made me tear up and sting.

"Good going," I said.

When I could no longer face myself, I pulled some paper towels from the dispenser and dried myself. The lid on the white-painted metal garbage bin squealed as it rocked back and forth, sent swinging by my hand.

I grabbed it, stopping the noise. No need to draw the cop to my hiding place. I was hoping that by choosing the men's room the search might take a little longer.

People seemed to instinctually avoid going into the opposite gender's bathroom. If I was lucky, the cop would think I was just some dumb, panicked girl and wouldn't even think to check for me in here for a while longer yet.

Then my cell rang.

In the enclosed space the washroom, the noise was shrill and loud. A surge of panicked energy rushed through my arms and hands as I struggled to pull the damn thing out of my pocket. All I could think about was shutting it off before someone heard.

It buzzed in my hands as I freed it. I was about to hit the button to shunt it right to voicemail when my eyes managed to relay to my brain what the screen said.

"Vick Lawson," the call display read.

"Vick..." I said, my hands shaking even more as relief flooded in to mix with the former panic, creating an awful, manic feeling inside me as I thumbed the answer button.

"Vick!" I said.

"What is it, Stephanie? I got your message..." Vick said, whispering.

"Vick, we were so wrong about Adam."

"What do you mean? Adam's a werewolf, Stephanie..."

I wanted to shake the phone like it was his body. Why couldn't he just shut up for a second and listen. Hadn't he heard what I'd said in those voicemails I'd left him?

"Just be quiet for a sec, okay?"

I paused then, as well, remembering where I was and the predicament I was in. I whispered, too. I didn't really spend more than a split second pondering why Vick was also whispering.

"Adam's a werewolf, yeah.
But, Vick, listen to me... Adam never killed anyone!"

"What?" he said. I could practically hear him clenching his teeth, could practically see the muscles of his jaw working.

"Vick... Adam didn't kill Jenn."

"How do you..."

"It was Eric! Eric and Joseph. I followed them from class and Eric threatened Joseph for almost giving the whole thing up in class. Eric admitted to killing her. And Vick... before he did... he... he..."

My throat started locking up. An awful surge of images moved through my mind.
Eric and Joseph, holding me down. Eric, gleeful as Joseph tried to work my clothes off. Then I found myself replaced by Jenn. Only this time, Adam didn't jump in to stop them.

"Okay, just calm down. You don't need to say it. I understand what you mean," Vick said.

In spite of his whispering, his voice and his reassurances were comforting.

"Thanks," I said.

Before I could calm down any further, I suddenly remembered why I’d been wanting to get a hold of him so badly in the first place. I pressed the phone harder against my face. It started getting hot, but I couldn't risk him not understanding me.

"You can't kill him, Vick. Adam hasn't done anything wrong. You can't go through with the ceremony!"

"Stephanie..."

"Please don't do it! So what if he turns into a big, freaky wolf sometimes. He's never hurt anyone. And I'll make sure he never does..."

"Stephanie... listen..."

"No! You listen. Monsters are monsters because of what they do, not what they are. You have to understand that."

My heart tried to beat itself up my throat as I clawed for more reasons for him to stop that whole ceremony. Damn it! Why couldn't I have been a philosophy major?

"Stephanie!" Vick said, doing one of those whisper-yells.

"What? Why are you whispering, too?" I said.

"The ceremony hasn't happened yet. There's a lot of tradition and preparation that goes into it. Adam's still alive..."

Even though he kept talking after that, I didn't really hear any of it. Adam was still alive! There was still a chance, then. A chance to see him get the second chance he needed, and maybe still get Jenn the justice she deserved. If Vick had been sitting beside me, leaning against that bathroom wall, I would have kissed him.

It took me a second to realize Vick had stopped talking. I put the phone back to my ear. It really was getting hot.

I tried to remember what he said. It wasn't coming. However, something told me that it wasn't good news.

"What... What's wrong?"

He sighed. Was he exasperated with me, or was some heavy weight pressing down on him, grinding all the energy out of his youthful body?

"I could get into real trouble if my family finds out I'm telling you any of this. I'm telling you because I know you like him. But, Stephanie, he is a monster. If he hasn't hurt anyone yet, it doesn't mean he won't in the future."

"Stop it!" I said, holding the phone out in front of my face, "Stop it! Is that what they're telling you? You don't need to do this. If you do, you're not a monster hunter; you're a murderer. Just like Eric."

He started to say something, but another noise distracted me. I covered the speaker on my phone with one finger as I slid over to the door of the washroom.
My breath held, I listened.

Yes, that was the squeak of a boot on the polished floor down the hall. Someone had come up to the fourth floor. Were they looking for me?

Being as quiet as I could, I reached up for the light switch. My hand floundered against the wall when my fingers didn't feel the switch in the expected place. I looked up, squinting at the brightness of the long fluorescent bulbs.

They were automatic lights. I remembered them flickering on when I opened the door. They probably functioned based on some motion sensor I couldn't see. So long as someone moved around in the washroom, they'd stay on.

I leaned against the wall beside the door, my winter coat rustling as I pulled my knees up to my chest. I put the phone to my ear, trying to be as still as possible.

Those boots squeaked again. They were coming towards me, probably about to
round that corner.

"Vick..." I said, whispering through my teeth.

I looked up at the lights as I tried to remain as still as possible. Turn off, damn it, turn off!

"What's wrong? Are you in trouble?"

"Vick, listen, I'm in the men's bathroom on the fourth floor of the student center. There's a cop looking for me. I think he's coming this way right now. He's going to find me."

Only silence came through from the other end of the line for a few moments.

"Stay right there, try to not make any noise. I'm coming to get you," Vick said.

The boots squeaked again. The cop had just come around the corner.

"Hurry..." I said, nudging the end call button with my chin.

Chapter 40

How long would he take? It was a dumb question, but one I couldn't help thinking about. I had no idea how long he'd be, since I had no clue where he was coming from or how he was planning on getting here.

Perhaps if I'd been on the phone with him for another few moments...
But I couldn't risk another call.

Even as I thought that, the squeak of the walker outside got louder. With my body as stiff as it was, I could practically feel the minute vibrations in the floor from each footfall.

If you've ever seen a horror movie where someone has to hide from the evil slasher, killing all those sinful teenage boys and girls, you'll be familiar with this moment. It's that part of the scene where the hider just can't seem to breathe quietly.

It didn't matter how hard I tried to not make any noise, whether I breathed in through my mouth or nose. The rush of air in and out of my body was deafening.

And don't just say, "Well, why doesn't she just hold her breath, duh?" It doesn't work like that, as I found out.

You could try holding your breath all you like. It's just that with your heart rattling like a machine gun in your chest, pushing all that blood around as quickly as it can, your body needs a lot of air.

And, to top it all off, those fucking lights just would not turn off. And I wasn't moving at all, I swear. My fingers were beginning to cramp around my phone, I had them so rigid.

It sounded like he was just steps away from the bathroom door.

The lights turned out, washing me in blissful, wonderful shadow. The only light came in from the doorjamb.

It still wasn't over. I didn't know how sensitive the light sensor was. For all I knew, wiggling a finger would be enough to set it off again.

The only part of me I felt safe moving was my eyes. These, I swiveled as much as they could to watch the light coming in under the door. Yes, there were two shadows there of someone standing just feet away, a few inches of wood all that was separating us.

"Unit Four, what's your status?" a radio crackled.

"I spotted her, Central, but she bolted. I'm looking for her now," the cop replied.

This definitely wasn't Officer Kelly. He had a deep voice that I was sure scared the crap out of tourists he pulled over for speeding.

"Ten-four, reports every ten minutes, Unit Four."

The radio stopped crackling, then. I had my hand clamped over my mouth and nose, my lungs burning. My eyes refused to blink, choosing instead to stare at those twin shadows cast by the cop's feet, mere inches from me.

The effort of not breathing sent me trembling. My body was demanding I take a breath, and it was a debate I was losing. This must be how people about drowning people feel, I thought. It was utterly terrifying.

Did he know I was in here? Was he just trying to figure out if there was some way to coax me into leaving? Or had it already been a long patrol, and this was the first men's room he'd come across all night since that extra large coffee from
Bonnie's?

Perhaps picking the men's room to hide in wasn't my most brilliant idea ever.

"Stupid Putnam and his stupid son..." Unit Four said, trailing off into a stream of half-heard curses.

Then he walked away, still muttering to himself.

I held still a while longer, allowing myself a few gulped breaths. Finally, after knots had formed in both my calves and the left side of my back, I heard the door to the stairs switch open and then bang shut as Unit Four took the search to a new floor.

I let my head roll back, bumping against the wall. As I closed my eyes (so, so dry...) the lights came back on.

I got up and went to the sink, hissing at the pain in my legs. The water coming from the tap was ice cold, and it burned like good whisky going down my throat.

Taking out my phone, I tried to call Vick. It rang six times before I turned it off. When I tried again a minute later, a low signal warning flashed on my screen.

The blizzard was getting even worse out there, apparently. I hoped Vick wasn't coming from far away.

I drank a couple more mouthfuls of water, trying to quell the hungry ball expanding in my stomach. Yes, if I had any more adventures after tonight, I'd remember to bring a backpack full of supplies with me. No matter how dumb it made me look. I'd take looking dumb over starving any time.

"He's on his way," I told my reflection. It gave me a doubtful stare in return.

It's not like I could blame myself. From our brief conversation, it sounded like Vick was still set on going through with the ceremony. I had my work cut out for me, apparently.

The door to the stairs opened and closed again. Another pair of wet boots squeaked down the hall. It was coming straight towards me.

My first thought was "Cop!"

This time, I hid myself under the sink, hoping that the light sensor wouldn't be paying attention to this part of the room and would therefore kill those fluorescents faster.

The boots stopped right outside the door. There was hint of shadow coming in under the jamb. I willed him to go away again even as I wondered what had given me away, what made him come back.

"Stephanie?"

Three knocks echoed through the bathroom.