“Only a single friend and myself left at the end. He thought me to be dead when the French Army took possession of Toledo. He himself was pinned with a lowering pendulum descending upon him, rats threatening to eat his writhing body, followed by steaming walls slowly pushing him to the edge of an unholy pit. It was there that he was about to perish when the French army freed him.
“I slew my distracted guard who was trembling from the sounds of the invading army. Slipped out in the midst of the chaos. Grateful for their assistance, but I feared my treatment from the imposing army would be just as fierce if they learned what I was.”
I shudder, trying to shake the nastiness of the tale off my skin. KMFDM’s “Juke Joint Jezebel” vibrates its way through the door into the alley.
“So, young one, I know all too well the imaginings of humans and where their inquisitions will take them. How much do you think you know in your short life with them? How much have you been through to be right where I’m wrong?”
“Can’t condemn them all by what a few did to you—as terrible as it was. Can’t blame the innocent for the guilty. Just like you can’t blame me for your own actions.”
“Just you live with them long enough, young one. They’ll change your mind. Mark my words; humanity makes its own enemies—they don’t need my help.”
“Where do we go from here?”
“Well, I have two options.”
“They are?”
“One: I call Carvelli and Quint, and we tear you apart until you squeal or until you die.”
“And two?”
“I let you think about all this.”
“What?”
“I let you go—let you take in all we discussed. Think about me finding you and your girl. It’s only a matter of time—I will find you—I will find Ruby; you know it. And there will be no talking then.”
“Let me go to think about what? What do you think is gonna change?”
“Think about giving me the information I need. Think about living happily ever after with your green-eyed Ruby. Think about all of us living to see a better day, or…huh…I can show you one hell of a dark evening tonight.”
“I can’t promise you anything.”
Puts his nose an inch from mine. Less than an inch. Less than a centimeter.
His wicked smile takes me by surprise.
“That’s why I’m giving you a chance. It’s your very weakness that is saving your life right now. Your worthless earnestness is why I trust you will think it over. You will come to the conclusion that saving your love’s life—an innocent life at that—is worth turning over one far less innocent, one who won’t even be harmed—just need to take something from her—something she doesn’t even know she has or will ever miss. To me words are but the bait in the trap. The distraction that snares my prey. To you words are some kind of soul contract—a holy promise, to be treated as serious as death itself. Ridiculous. But it’s oh so useful to me now. Not promising me anything is promising me that you will be sincere—your word when it comes will be true. Make no doubt—it will be your undoing someday. But for tonight, it saves you.”
“Does it save me? Or…”
“Or what?”
“Does it save your miserable, cowardly flesh from me?”
“Carvelli and Quint,” he says as he raises his hand in the air.
The two shadows at the end of the alleyway rush toward me. I grip the two small stakes behind my back—one in each hand, pulling them out of my pants. I see the loading zone behind Carvelli and Quint—the only way out—as a heaven that I hope I can reach. Hope for Ruby’s sake that I make it. Know that I may never leave this alley. My fangs scream into the night. Rage is my only hope. That and the sharpened bits of wood in my hands.
Chapter XIII
Midnight Sonata
The noises of the woods form a terrifying symphony. The crickets sound like a thousand wings beating their way out of hell, flapping through the darkness between the trees, beating closer to me with every second.
At least that’s what I envision in my mind.
The cracking of twigs is the premonition of bones snapping, making my body jump, fearfully hoping all of my parts are still unbroken and whole.
Scuttling in the brush of some animal I’ve scared sends images of Maxine pouncing on me, ripping into me with her nails.
Could swear I hear something calling my name—pleading for me to respond.
The sway of a branch in the subtle night breeze sends my imagination flying—the blur of Edgar rushing at me in the night without Simon here to save me. The two goons from the bar and the school, each grabbing at an arm and dragging me away deeper into the dark of the woods. Roderick’s eyes, filled with an evil glow, violating me with their harsh intent.
Simon. God, Simon. Where is he? Has he been gone too long? Have they got ahold of him? Should’ve made him take me. Shouldn’t have let him go alone. A lot of good Maxi is doing out here anyway. Torments me and disappears into the trees. Great protection she turned out to be—almost ripped my head off.
Still searching for her—she’s the reason I’m out here in the wild instead of hiding still and quiet in the clearing where Simon and I were staying. Don’t know why I care so much about her hurt feelings after she’s been so awful to me, but I do.
Don’t really regret any of the things I said to her. Somehow wish I could’ve said them nicer though. Guess I regret some of them. A little.
Maybe I just understand how she feels about Simon and pity that she must hurt deeply to know how wonderful he is and know he doesn’t see her the same way.
She’s probably not even here anymore. Been looking for her for hours. Could be long gone. Could also be right behind me, toying with me—letting me stumble around scared in the dark woods, waiting for the right moment to rip me to pieces.
Snapping and crash. A loud thud. Just ahead of me—maybe 50 feet or so.
Heart goes wild. Terror trembles through my veins.
Eyes strain to see anything in the darkness. Darkness there—nothing more, but something crashed in it.
Maxine—did one of the hunters looking for me grab her? I start walking in the direction of the sound, trying to be quiet and not give myself away. Must be quiet—can’t help her if they kill me before I get there.
Simon—was it Simon coming back to me, and the beasts grabbed him?
I sprint into the pitch, branches scraping at my arms and legs, dragging over my skin like demon claws trying to pull me down into hell.
None of it matters. Not until I know it’s not him. Not until I know he’s not hurt.
How far have I run? Where was the sound? So hard to tell. My breath sounds like thunder. As I look around while running at full speed, I can almost feel the air moving past my straining eyes.
Feet hit something and snag—body keeps moving forward, falling into the brush. Hands fling out to break my fall—they are first to feel the scrape of the prickly bush I’m smashing into. Tuck my head into my forearms, trying to block the harsh scratching of the branches and pointed leaves. Its tear finds my cheeks and slashes my right ear. Burn radiates through me.
Knees hit the ground. Force myself out the thorn-filled brier torture I’ve fallen into.
I spin around to see what I tripped over. I hear its breathing—deep and desperate like the sick.
Boots. Face down against the ground. Simon—my God, it’s Simon!
I crawl up the side of him as fast as I can—shove his shoulder to turn him over.
Fear still swirls in my heart—imagining Simon wounded or worse. An echoing panic hits me that I’ll roll him over not to see his handsome face but one of the nightmares in my head.