Bark into her ears, “Get on the ground—crawl upstairs—hide behind bar—wait there! Now!”
Shakes her head—refusing.
“Ruby needs us! Now! Now!”
Half tossing her to the ground, I push her in the direction. On all fours she makes her way to the bar. For once—hope she listens. For all our lives—hope she crawls fast—low to ground. Fast. Low. Or all dead.
Ruby.
Only thought.
Ruby.
Don’t see her face.
Carvelli on ground still breathes—doesn’t move besides that.
Look where I saw Ruby held above crowd. Nothing. Just people. Stumble that way. Still nothing.
Crowd parts out of my way. No doubt why. Blood back of head. Needle hole in cheek. Wish crowd did this earlier. Could’ve saved her.
Ruby. Ruby. Ruby…
There she is. She is! Above crowd again.
Step closer. Those in the middle rush to sidewalk. Path clears a view into hell.
Roderick has Ruby by her waist, hoisting her above his head, making sure that I see her—luring me in.
Sting from shoulder spreads into my lungs—breathing slows. Stinging through head—thoughts sludge. Eyes heavy. Ruby…my poor Ruby…
“Ruby!” my one thought pours from my lips.
“Simon!” she cries, voice cracking, tears glistening down her cheeks, over her lips, and down her neck.
Roderick drops her to her feet to the side of him. Quint grabs both her arms—pins them behind her back, keeping her from falling to the ground.
“Sad thing being separated from what you want, Simon—from what you need. Isn’t it?”
Try to speak, but blackness floods vision, drowns thoughts.
“See what hell you’ve been putting me through, dear boy? Not fun to have someone toy with what you crave, is it?”
“La-let her go, Roderick. Kill you. Swear I-I’ll—” words trail, my body sways.
Blackness.
Voice cuts through the void, “Can’t even say it, you fool, much less do it.”
“Simon!” her voice stings worse than the junk they shot in me.
Try shake head clear. Nothing. Shake again.
Jump at Roderick—kick square in his chest. Falls back step.
Swing at his head. Glances over jaw.
Blackness rises in mind.
Raise hands to swing—block—something—can’t see.
Punches pummel my head. He can’t be moving that fast—mind so slow—numb—just seems fast.
Concrete smacks back of head and neck.
Laughter. Hear it above me.
Shouts. Cursing all ‘round me.
Cursing and laughter fighting.
Hear crash—beer smell—glass and wetness falls on me again.
Roderick snarling now—no laughter.
Ruby. Damnit, get up—Ruby.
Finally see something. Roderick yelling at crowd—beer running down his face—his shirt and head drenched in beer. Fingernails and fangs threatening them. Crowd shouting back—only side of crowd not facing him. Changes when he turns other way. They shout something about nice Halloween costume. Something ‘bout let girl go.
I dive at him. Take him to ground. Pounding his head fast as I can. Dizziness worse with every punch.
Not much left.
Hang on. For her. Hang on.
Sirens. Swirling—coming to my ears. Losing it or police coming.
Heavy hit to back my head. Swirl like hurricane. Quint. Boot. Head.
Blackness floods. Vision—gone.
Roderick curses.
Love cries my name. Sweet voice. Agony. Worse than darkness.
Bottle crashes into my head. Spinning in mind speeds up.
Only New Orleans—flee violent scene—carry drinks out with them.
Ruby………Ruby……………Ruby…
Hands grab at my head—feel like they’re spinning with me.
“Bring me Ambrosia, or I’ll rip into your little lover here, and see how red Ruby is on the inside.”
Can’t see. Feel my fangs dig into my lower lip.
“Bring her, Simon. Bring her to me.”
Sounds fade into darkness. Softer. And softer. Hear her call my name. Stings my heart. Darkness takes ove—
Chapter XV
Dark Pool Hangover
Darkness turns to light. The light’s just as hideous as the pitch.
The crowd’s wretched beer runs its sticky path over my face again. Thankful for it reviving me from the abyss—hating with all my being what it’s woken me to.
Would stay in the darkness forever if it would free Ruby from the hell she’s in.
Push off ground with elbow. Stand. Wobble. Crash to ground.
“Woah, take it easy. Take it easy,” says one of the people standing around.
Sirens loud now. Flashing—blue tinting everything.
Force myself up hard again. Start to buckle at knees.
Hands reach out to grab me. None of them in uniform thankfully. Swing my arm, brushing them away. Stumble till I find a streetlight to brace myself—just past the curb.
People step away like I’m the Grim Reaper. No one comes near after swatting their hands away.
Uniform coming at me from side. Damn it.
“Sir! Sir, I’m gonna need you to lie down.”
Hold a pointed finger in his direction. Stare angrily at him like all this is his fault. Easy to do—sickness making me feel vile. Beyond angry. Stops where he is. Paramedic, not police. Good thing.
Make my way toward bar. Stumble gets a little smoother. Focus. Don’t want any more uniforms to take interest in me.
One clear thought—Ruby. Precious Ruby. Get to her.
Two parts to thought:
One: Blue better be upstairs.
Two: Need a car. Fast one. Now.
Look through the opened doors to the bar. First time I’ve ever seen no one at the entrance table. Guess when the party’s been shut down there are no IDs to check.
Head still spins. Wake of the storm still swirling the current of my thoughts. Maybe haven’t even seen the worst of it yet. Can’t think about that now…
Police scattered inside of the bar—some on the street near the entrance. All talking to witnesses. All of them trying not to show they believe the accounts they’re hearing. All trying not to show they’re scared.
Guess they’ve left me alone ‘cause they thought I was for the paramedics lying unconscious in the street—maybe for the morgue—not for questioning—least not tonight.
Hopeless—never get to Ambrosia without them stopping me. Got to try anyway.
Maybe can pretend I’m just drunk.
Put hand to cheek—wound still there—not bleeding anymore but still pretty fresh. Blood on my shirt—down my neck. Never pass off as just drunk—they’ll know I was in the fight. If I have to fight cops to get upstairs to Ambrosia, this’s gonna get ugly. Very ugly.
Arm flings around my left shoulder—same side as my face wound.
“Simon,” the voice irritates my mood just like every other sound around me since Carvelli shot me up with that sickness, but it’s not one of them. Not Ambrosia either.
It’s Danny. Guitar player—local band. Normally be happy to see him. Not much on earth I want to see now but Ruby, blue hair, and a car.
He leans in and whispers, “Let me lead you inside—past cops—get you cleaned up.”
Nod my head, and we’re walking into the bar like a couple of hungry seniors trying to sneak past the principal into freshman lunch.
Red flashes in my mind and not the petite, angry girl who inadvertently helped me keep Roderick from getting Ambrosia tonight. Danny’s got a red, loud Camaro. Could always tell when his band was playing at the metal bar. Couldn’t miss that car parked outside. Think it’s an IROC. Gotta make him give it to me—Ruby’s life depends on it. Hope I don’t have to take it from him—even for a night.
Head swirls—Danny steadies me through the doorway. Try to keep my head down and out of view.
“Upstairs,” I say quietly.
Can see a few pairs of eyes looking in our direction. Keep moving.