Doug winced. "I don’t like it when you swear."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."
Doug reached for her other wrist.
Sejal threw her fist forward and punched him in the face. Not a slap — a real punch. The pain of it creased her knuckles and jolted up her arm. It didn’t seem to make much of an impression on Doug, and in a moment he had both of her wrists pinned against the wall.
Now the fog really rolled in. She could feel her breathing grow shallow, and all sounds faded away. Doug was still talking to her. Doug, or someone who looked like Doug. Close. A little blurry. She could feel his breath, which seemed to her an impressive detail since she knew none of this was real. She nearly laughed because vampires were only real on television.
The person who looked like Doug was still talking. Trying to explain something. And now look. He’s crying. That’s hard to watch. I’ll close my eyes.
The darkness was absolute. But then the hot breath faded away.
Cat was shaking her awake.
"You look like Cat," Sejal slurred, and tried to get up from the floor.
"What the hell?" said Cat. "Why were you sleeping like that? Didn’t you hear us?"
Sejal stared at her, confused. Cat had been crying. It reminded her of Doug. Doug had been here.
Cat crossed behind her and closed the window. "Jay’s been attacked, but they think he’s going to be all right. They think me and Abby and Jay are all part of some goth cult or something because we all wear black and Abby’s anorexic or whatever. Asswipes. You know who else wears black? Fuckin’ asswipe cops — they wear black. Ooh, they’re a danger to society, they—"
Cat burst into tears again and sat down on the bed. "I’m sorry," said Sejal, and she sat beside her. "I’m sorry."
As she held Cat she remembered Doug. And someone else…an older man…and Clark Park. She couldn’t recall much of what either had said. One thing she was sure of — Doug had come here for something, and he hadn’t taken it. He’d changed his mind.
Well, she still thought he was a vampire. There was a way she could check. She’d thought of it before.
By the time Cat finished crying, Sejal had something like a plan.
She silently cursed herself for taking Cat’s key ring, especially when her friend was in such a state. But she remembered how Cat had looked at her earlier when the subject of vampires came up, and she knew this was just something she was going to have to prove to herself. She was tired of feeling fresh off the boat.
The nice thing about her new wardrobe, she thought, was that it was good for sneaking. In her black velvet dress, she was like a frilly ninja.
Before she could do whatever it was she expected to do tonight she would need to know where she was going. She thought again of her lost (no, disowned) suitcase and whispered a prayer that Ganesha, Lord of Beginnings and Remover of Obstacles, might keep the Browns’ geriatric internet connection free and clear long enough for a web search and a set of directions. Despite her many faults. Despite her leaving him at the airport. And then, once the directions were secured and silently copied, she considered asking for a fresh obstacle — a browser crash, a frozen cursor, some prudent rockslide to cut her off from the World Wide Everything. But, no — she’d had enough favors lately.
If she ever saw her Ganesha figurine again, Sejal thought they might have a little talk. It could be that she was willing to manage her own obstacles for a while.
She did send one email. A much overdue one to her parents: amma and bapa,i am sorry i have not written for a few days. i am sorry this will be so short. i promise to write again soon and tell you everything. my studies go well. rehearsals go well. cat is a great friend, and i am trying to be a help to auntie and uncle brown. i continue to enjoy america, but could do without the vampires.much love,
sejalp.s. can you believe I’m writing on a pentium II? did these people rob a museum?
Then she took a breath and turned the computer off.
Now she crept out of the dark house with Cat’s key ring, and approached the older of the Brown family cars. She eased into the driver’s seat and closed the door as quietly as she could. She barely knew how to drive. The steering wheel was on the wrong side of the car. This would be interesting.
She shifted into neutral and let the sedan slide down toward the street, and flinched against her seat belt when she felt the rear tires sink into soft grass. The Brown mailbox passed inches from the passenger side like a dark sentry and set her heart pounding.
Finally, safely in the street, she started the car and jerked forward into destiny.
34
Donor
A GRIPPING half hour later, Sejal pulled up to a MoPo convenience store and parked next to a champagne-colored SUV. She got out of the car and squinted into the bright store windows.
"Hey, how you doin’ tonight?" said a voice.
There were two boys in the SUV. High-school age, maybe a little older. "I’m fine," Sejal said, and she made an effort to smile. Americans were always smiling.
"There’s nobody in there," said the boy in the driver’s seat as he jerked his chin toward the MoPo. "Door’s open, though."
That seemed odd. Odder still was that the boys appeared to be opening fresh bags of crisps and sipping fountain drinks. Perhaps they had left their money on the counter.
"Well, I suppose I will go in and wait," said Sejal.
"We got snacks. Why don’t you come with us to this party."
"Thank you, no."
"I gots this book I think I seen you in. The Kama Sutra of Love."
Sejal flailed her hands. "Look here. Why do you eveteasers keep saying that? Do you even know what the Kama Sutra is?"
A flutter of doubt crossed the boy’s face. "Of course I know. It’s Indian for ‘sex book.’"
"I assure you it is not."
"I’m…pretty sure it is."
"Oh, pooh — I’m done with you now. Go."
She turned toward the store, and after a moment the SUV’s engine started. "Bitch!" called one of the boys as she pushed through the jingling door.
"Yes, yes. Bitch. Very good," she said, scanning the store. There really didn’t seem to be anyone in here. She weaved through the shelves and stepped over a spill of candy necklaces. There was a swinging plastic door the color of old tires in the back, and Sejal pushed it open a crack.
"Hello?"
Nothing.
Then, a small noise behind her, from the middle of the store. A clicking. She approached the checkout island, a stomach-high oval counter piled with impulse items and two cash registers. But there’s no one here, she thought as she leaned into the counter.
"Oh! Hello."
A young woman sat on the floor in the center of the oval, tapping long nails like stick candy against the linoleum floor. She wore the green belted dress of a MoPo employee and the vacant look of a slightly-more-dazed-than-usual MoPo employee.
Sejal tried again. "Hello?"
The girl stirred and touched a hand to her hair. Then she looked up at Sejal, and down at herself.
"I’m on the floor."
"Yes," Sejal agreed. "Are you all right? Do you want me to call someone?"
"Nah…I’m all right," said the girl with a guilty smile.
"I’m sorry to bother you, but is this the MoPo where the Ghost stopped a robbery?"
The girl nodded, then nodded harder with an ever-widening smile. "He was just here! He came back. I think…" She seemed to notice her legs, which were stretched out in a V, and pulled her knees together. "I think we did it."
Sejal had her doubts. She tried to examine the girl’s neck, but could only see the left side. She circled around the checkout island, pulled a yearbook from her bag, and opened it to the page she’d marked.