His right cheek is torn in the shape of four fingernails, but it no longer bleeds. Faint bruises mark the corner of his left eye and temple. Even battered, he looks stunning.
I desperately try to think of something to say that doesn’t make me sound as hopelessly mesmerized as I am with him and that also doesn’t reveal just how petrified I am by all of this. I hide my shaking hand on my lap, hoping he hasn’t seen it.
Still not coming up with anything witty, I take a sip of my coffee.
He says, “You’re in serious danger—you have to come with me now.”
Pulling my cup away from my mouth, I say, “I know caffeine’s not good for me, but I’d hardly say it’s a life or death thing.”
He looks at me intently like he’s scanning my inner being, “That’s funny, Ruby, and forgive me for being so curt, but what hunts you has no use for humor—and if you want to live, neither can we.”
“How did you know my name?” spills out of my mouth.
For the first time since we’ve crossed paths, he blushes and looks away from me.
I continue, “That Roderick guy knew my name too. What the hell is going on with all of you?”
“He’s dangerous, and he’s after you. We need to leave.”
“How do I know you’re not dangerous? I don’t even know your name.”
“Simon. My name is Simon.”
I fight the smile that begins to form at the sound of his name.
“Well, Simon,” my mouth alive as if being kissed at saying his name for the first time, “all I’ve seen is a lot of dancing and some crazy fighting. How do I know you’re not just as dangerous as he is?”
“Because I’m the one who’s been rescuing you.”
“All that means is that you’re after me too. All this could be about you trying to get to Ambrosia. Maybe you’re both fighting each other for her.”
“If I wanted her, I would’ve grabbed her last night. I told her to run, remember?”
Bite my bottom lip and nod.
“Still haven’t answered my question. My name—how do you know it?”
He looks away again. I could swear the bruises by his eye are fading.
“If you want me to believe you, you’ve got to look at me and tell me.”
His eyes quiver nervously, but he aims them at mine and speaks, “The DJ—his name’s Mark. I never gave you your phone back after he tossed it back down to me,” he pauses and exhales heavily, “Knew they’d be after you. Brought the phone to Mark—he thinks he’s some kind of a techno guru. Thinks he’s in The Matrix or something. All of his electronics glow with blue lights. But Mark came through. He traced your name and address from the phone number. Found out where you go to college.”
“So you enlisted a cyberpunk to track me down?”
Embarrassment comes over him, but in a millisecond, he regains composure, “As good as you smelled, it’s a big city to track you down by your fragrance—as sweet as it may be.”
Feeling the blood rushing to my face, I tap his hand, and change the subject, “So, that explains how you found me earlier. How did you find me here?”
“Your car looks like a convertible rabbit. It’s not that hard to find.”
I grin. My white Karmen Ghia. One of my only possessions that makes me smile.
His face drops all signs of amusement, “We need to leave now. Won’t take them long to find you either.”
“Wait a minute—I need some answers.”
“Don’t have time.”
“You seemed to be able to handle them fine last night and today—what’s the hurry? Why would they rush after you to get beat up again?”
“Not that easy. I hit two of them from behind with stools to the back of their heads—fire took care of Roderick.”
“And today?”
“Jumped off the roof and sucker-punched, well sucker-kicked, Roderick to the side of his head to start with. Barely held them off long enough for you to get away.”
“You’ve held them off so far. Why run?”
Shaking his head, “You just don’t get it. It was only three of them, and I got lucky.”
“What do you mean only three of them?”
“If there were three at the high school, there was at least one waiting at your house, another at your college, one everywhere they’ve figured out that you go.”
“Lucky I picked a new coffee shop today.”
“Luckier than you can imagine. Lucky now—lucky last night—lucky at the school.”
“What happened at the school—after I left?”
“I got in some good shots, but they beat me down to a knee and left.”
“They just left?”
“They’re not after me, remember?”
“Ambrosia,” the word whispers out of my mouth.
“No, they’re looking for you to get to Ambrosia. They can’t find her.”
“Of course they can’t; she’s—”
His arm jets across the table and presses a finger over my lips. Shaking his head solemnly, “Don’t even say it.”
Not fond of being shushed and having had it with this crazy, violent game they’re playing that somehow involves me—all the frustration and stress, of the sleepless last night and the violent morning after, well up and flood me, words bursting out like shrapnel from a cannon barrel.
“How the hell do you fight like that and not get hurt? That part of the roof is two stories high! How did you not break your neck?”
He starts to speak, but my verbal barrage continues to bombard him.
“Why did Roderick stick his arm through the flames at us? What kind of psychopath burns himself like that? What are you guys—a bunch of psychiotic wanna-be ninjas?”
“It’s…it’s because…” he pauses and exhales loudly.
I take a sip of my mocha latte.
As soon as I move the oversized mug from my mouth, I see he has leaned across the table with his lips nearly touching my ear.
“It’s because I’m a vampire.”
Coffee gushes out my mouth, shooting across the table and dripping through its wrought iron holes down to the concrete ground that I suddenly can’t look away from.
His words were serious, which prevents me from looking at him. Never look at him the same again.
My heart cracks. He’s gorgeous, he’s into me, and he’s completely nuts. Taking a last look before I leave him forever, I glance over the rigidity of his cheekbone, sliding my gaze down its perfectly carved slope.
“Oh, my God! Your marks are gone! The scratches on your face are gone!”
Before I realize how loud I was just shouting, his extended fingertip pushes against my lips again.
“Shhhh. That’s what I was just trying to tell you.”
He looks around at the many people staring at us. He stares them down one by one—none of them hold their eyes on him for more than a few seconds under his intense watch.
Looking back to me and slowly sitting down in the chair across from me, he says in the strongest of whispers, “Didn’t you notice Roderick’s arm was almost completely healed this morning? He burned the flesh pretty bad last night.”
“Didn’t notice—was kinda focused on trying to not be killed actually,” my voice shaking.
A dessert plate falls off a nearby table and crashes to the concrete patio floor. At the sound, Simon jumps to his feet, knocking his chair over backward and flinging his fingers out like the serrated paw of a startled tiger.
Turning back to me, he leans over the table, ignoring the bewildered stares that are upon him once again. His glorious azure eyes line up with my own—his tender lips mere inches away from where I’d still love them to be.
“We need to leave—now,” his voice powerful and certain.
“Where?” squeaks from my mouth, my mind still struggling to take in the unreal situation that surrounds me.
Shaking his head, “Don’t have time for this. We walk out together right now, or I throw you over my shoulder and leave that way.”
He sees my repulsed expression.
“Sorry, but I’d rather have you hate me alive than like me dead.”
“Who says I like you?”
“Your lips did.”