“What was it?” I’d lost control of my voice—it was flat, uncaring.
Jessamine stared at me. I kept my expression vacant and waited. Her eyes flickered between Archie’s face and mine, feeling the chaos. I knew what Archie had seen.
A peaceful atmosphere settled around me. I didn’t fight it. I used it to keep my emotions under control.
Archie recovered, too. His face snapped back to its normal expression. “Nothing,” he said, his voice amazingly calm and convincing. “Just the
same room as before.” He looked at me, focusing for the first time. “Did you want breakfast?”
“I’ll eat at the airport.” I was calm, too. Almost like I was borrowing Jessamine’s extra sense, I could feel Archie’s well-concealed desperation to get me out of the room, so that he could be alone with her. So he could tell her that they were doing something wrong, that they were going to fail.
Archie was still focused on me. “Is your mother all right?”
I had to swallow back a throatful of bile. I could only follow the script I’d planned earlier.
“My mom was worried,” I said in a monotone voice. “She wanted to come home. It’s okay. I convinced her to stay in Florida for now.”
“That’s good.”
“Yes,” I agreed robotically.
I turned and walked slowly to the bedroom, feeling their eyes following
the whole way. I shut the door behind me, and then I did what I could. I showered and got dressed in clothes that fit me. I dug through the duffel bag until I found my sock full of money—I emptied it into my pocket.
I stood there for a minute, staring at nothing, trying to think of things I was allowed to think about. I came up with one idea.
I knelt by the little bedside table and opened the top drawer. Underneath the complimentary copy of the Bible, there was a stash of stationery and a pen. I took a sheet of paper and an envelope out of the drawer.
“Edythe,” I wrote. My hand was shaking. The letters were barely legible.
I love you. Sorry—again. So sorry.
She has my mom, and I have to try. I know it may not work. I am so very, very sorry.
Don’t be mad at Archie and Jessamine. If I get away from them it will be a miracle. Tell them thank you for me. Archie especially.
And please, please don’t come after her. That’s what she wants. I can’t stand it if anyone else has to be hurt because of me, especially you. Please, this is the only thing I can ask you now. For me.
I’m not sorry that I met you. I’ll never be sorry that I love you.
Forgive me.
Beau.
I folded the paper into thirds, and then sealed it into the envelope. Eventually she would find it. I hoped she would understand. I hoped she would forgive. And most of all, I hoped she would listen.
When I walked back out to the living room, they were ready.
I sat alone this time in the back of the car. Jessamine kept shooting glances at me in the mirror when she thought I wouldn’t notice. She kept me calm, which I appreciated.
Archie leaned against the passenger door, his face pointed at Jessamine, but I knew he was watching me in his peripheral vision. How much had he seen? Was he expecting me to try something? Or was he focused on the tracker’s moves?
“Archie?” I asked.
He was wary. “Yes?”
“I wrote a note for my mom,” I said slowly. “Would you give it to her?
Leave it at the house, I mean?”
“Of course, Beau.” His voice was careful—the way you spoke to someone standing on a ledge. They could both see me coming apart. I had to control myself better.
We got to the airport quickly. Jessamine parked in the center of the garage’s fourth floor; the sun couldn’t reach this deep into the concrete block. We never had to leave the shadows as we made our way to the terminal. It was terminal four, the biggest one, the most confusing. Maybe that would help.
I led the way, for once more knowledgeable about our surroundings than they were. We took the elevator down to level three, where the passengers unloaded. Archie and Jessamine spent a while looking at the departing flights board. I could hear them discussing the pros and cons of New York, Atlanta, Chicago. Places I’d never been. Places where I would never go, now.
I tried not to think about my escape. We sat in the long row of chairs by the metal detectors, and my knee kept bouncing. Jessamine and Archie pretended to people-watch, but they were really just watching me. Every inch I shifted in my seat was followed by a quick glance out of the corner of their eyes. This was hopeless. Should I run? Would they dare to stop me physically with all these people around? Or would they just follow?
Whatever I did, I was going to have to time it right. If I waited till Edythe and Carine were close, Archie would have to wait for them, right? But I couldn’t let it get too close. I was pretty sure Edythe wouldn’t care about the human witnesses when she started tracking me.
Part of me was able to make these calculated judgments. The other part was so aware that Edythe was almost here. Like every cell in my body was pulling toward her. That made it harder. I found myself trying to think of excuses to stay, to see her first and then make my escape. But that was impossible if I was going to have any chance at all to run.
Several times Archie offered to go get breakfast with me. Later, I told him. Not yet.
I stared at the arrival board, watching as flight after flight arrived on time. The flight from Seattle crept closer to the top of the board.
And then, when I had only thirty-five minutes to make my escape, the numbers changed. Her plane was ten minutes early. I had no more time.
I pulled the unmarked envelope out of my pocket and handed it to Archie.
“You’ll get this to her?”
He nodded, taking the letter and slipping it into his backpack. “I think I’ll eat now,” I said.
Archie stood. “I’ll come with you.”
“Do you mind if Jessamine comes instead?” I asked. “I’m feeling a little…” I didn’t finish the sentence. My eyes were wild enough to convey the point.
Jessamine stood up. Archie looked confused, but—I saw with huge relief—not suspicious. He must be attributing the change in his vision to some maneuver of the tracker’s rather than a betrayal by me. He wasn’t watching me, he was watching Joss.
Jessamine walked silently beside me, her hand on the small of my back, as if she were guiding me. I pretended a lack of interest in the first few airport cafés, my head scanning for something, anything. There had to be a window, an opportunity I could use.
I saw a sign, and had an idea. Inspiration in desperation. There was one place Jessamine wouldn’t follow me.
I had to move quickly, before Archie saw something.
“Do you mind?” I asked Jessamine, nodding to the door. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here,” she promised.
As soon as I was around the corner of the doorless entry, out of sight, I was running.
It was an even better solution than I’d first thought. I remembered this room. My stride lengthened.
The one place Jessamine wouldn’t follow me—the men’s room. They mostly had two entrances, but usually they were close to each other. My first plan, to slide out behind someone else, would never have worked.
But this room—I’d been here before. Gotten lost here once, because the other exit was straight through, coming out in a totally different hallway. I couldn’t have planned it better.
I was already in the hall now, sprinting to the elevators. If Jessamine
stayed where she said she would, I’d never be in her line of sight. I didn’t look behind me as I ran. This was my only chance, and even if she was after me, I had to keep going. People stared, but they didn’t look too shocked. There were lots of reasons to run in an airport.
I dashed up to the elevators, throwing my hand between the closing doors of a full car headed down. I squeezed in beside the irritated passengers, and checked to make sure that the button for level one had been pushed. It was already lit, and the doors closed.
As soon as the doors opened I was off again, to the sound of annoyed murmurs behind me. I slowed myself as I passed the security guards by the luggage carousels, only to break into a stumbling run again as the exit doors came into view. I had no way of knowing if Jessamine was looking for me yet. I would have only seconds if she was following my scent. I threw myself at the automatic doors, nearly smacking into the glass when they opened too slowly.
Along the crowded curb there wasn’t a cab in sight.
I had no time. Archie and Jessamine were either about to realize I was gone, or they already had. They would find me in a heartbeat.
A boxy white shuttle was just closing its doors a few feet behind me. “Wait!” I yelled, running, waving at the driver.
“This is the shuttle to the Hyatt,” the driver said in confusion as he opened the doors.
“Yeah,” I huffed, “that’s where I’m going.” I jumped up the steps.
He raised an eyebrow at my lack of luggage, but then shrugged, not caring enough to ask.
Most of the seats were empty. I sat as far from the other travelers as possible, and watched out the window as first the sidewalk, and then the airport, got smaller and smaller behind me. I couldn’t stop imagining Edythe, where she would stand at the edge of the road when she found the end of my trail.
Don’t lose it yet, I told myself. You still have a long way to go.
My luck held. In front of the Hyatt, a tired-looking couple was getting their last suitcase out of the trunk of a cab. I jumped out of the shuttle and ran to the cab, sliding into the seat behind the driver. The tired couple and the shuttle driver stared at me.
I told the surprised cabbie my address. “I need to get there as soon as
possible.”
“That’s in Scottsdale,” she complained. I threw four twenties over the seat. “Will that be enough?”
“Sure, kid, no problem.”
I sat back against the seat, folding my arms across my chest. My city began to rush around me, but I didn’t look out the windows. I had to fight to maintain control. There was no point in breaking down now, it wouldn’t help anything. Against the odds, I’d escaped. I was able now to do everything I could for my mom. My path was set. I just had to follow it.
So, instead of panicking, I closed my eyes and spent the twenty-minute drive with Edythe.
I imagined that I had stayed at the airport to meet her. I visualized how I would have stood right at the do-not-cross line, the first person she would see as she came down the long hallway from the gates. She would move too fast through the other passengers—and they would stare because she was so graceful. She would dart across those last few feet—not quite human—and then she’d throw her arms around my waist. And I wouldn’t bother with careful.
I wondered where we would have gone. North somewhere, so she could be outside in the day. Or maybe somewhere very remote, so we could lie in the sun together again. I imagined her by the shore, her skin sparkling like the sea. It wouldn’t matter how long we had to hide. To be trapped in a hotel room with her would be like heaven. So many things I still wanted to know about her. I could listen to her talk forever, never sleeping, never leaving her side.
I could see her face so clearly now… almost hear her voice. And, despite everything, for a second I was actually happy. I was so involved in my escapist daydream, I lost all track of the racing seconds.
“Hey, what was the number?”
The cabbie’s question punctured my fantasy. The fear I’d controlled for a few minutes took control again.
“Fifty-eight twenty-one.” My voice sounded strangled. The cabbie looked at me like she was nervous that I was having an episode or something.
“Here we are, then.” She was anxious to get me out of her car, probably
hoping I wouldn’t ask for my change.
“Thank you,” I whispered. There was no need to be afraid, I reminded myself. I knew the house was empty. I had to hurry; my mom was waiting for me, terrified, maybe hurt already, in pain, depending on me.
I ran to the door, reaching up automatically to grab the key under the eave. It was dark inside, empty, normal. The smell was so familiar, it almost incapacitated me. It felt like my mother must be close, just in the other room, but I knew that wasn’t true.
I ran to the phone, turning on the kitchen light on my way. There, on the whiteboard, was a ten-digit number written in a small, neat hand. My fingers stumbled over the keypad, making mistakes. I had to hang up and start again. I concentrated on just the buttons this time, carefully pressing each one in turn. I was successful. I held the phone to my ear with a shaking hand. It rang only once.
“Hello, Beau,” that easy voice answered. “That was very quick. I’m impressed.”
“Is my mom okay?”
“She’s perfectly fine. Don’t worry, Beau, I have no quarrel with her.
Unless you didn’t come alone, of course.” Light, amused. “I’m alone.” I’d never been more alone in my entire life.
“Very good. Now, do you know the ballet studio just around the corner from your home?”
“Yeah. I know how to get there.” “Well, then, I’ll see you very soon.” I hung up.
I ran from the room, through the door, out into the morning heat.
From the corner of my eye, I could almost see my mother standing in the shade of the big eucalyptus tree where I’d played as a kid. Or kneeling by the little plot of dirt around the mailbox, the cemetery of all the flowers she’d tried to grow. The memories were better than any reality I would see today. But I raced away from them.
I felt so slow, like I was running through wet sand—I couldn’t seem to get enough purchase from the concrete. I tripped over my feet several times, once falling, catching myself with my hands, scraping them on the sidewalk, and then lurching up to plunge forward again. At last I made it to the corner. Just another street now; I ran, sweat pouring down my face,
gasping. The sun was hot on my skin, too bright as it bounced off the white concrete and blinded me.
When I rounded the last corner, onto Cactus, I could see the studio, looking just as I remembered it. The parking lot in front was empty, the vertical blinds in all the windows drawn. I couldn’t run anymore—I couldn’t breathe; fear had gotten the best of me. I thought of my mother to keep my feet moving, one in front of the other.
As I got closer, I could see the sign taped inside the door. It was handwritten on bright pink paper; it said the dance studio was closed for spring break. I touched the handle, tugged on it cautiously. It was unlocked. I fought to catch my breath, and opened the door.
The lobby was dark and empty, cool, the air conditioner thrumming. The plastic molded chairs were stacked along the walls, and the carpet was damp. The west dance floor was dark, I could see through the open viewing window. The east dance floor, the bigger room, the one from Archie’s vision, was lit. But the blinds were closed on the window.
Terror seized me so strongly that I was literally trapped by it. I couldn’t make my feet move forward.
And then my mom’s voice called for me.
“Beau? Beau?” That same tone of hysterical panic. I sprinted to the door, to the sound of her voice.
“Beau, you scared me! Don’t you ever do that to me again!” Her voice continued as I ran into the long, high-ceilinged room.
I stared around me, trying to find where her voice was coming from. I heard her laugh, and I spun toward the sound.
There she was, on the TV screen, mussing my hair in relief. It was Thanksgiving, and I was twelve. We’d gone to see my grandmother in California, the last year before she died. We went to the beach one day, and I’d leaned too far over the edge of the pier. Mom had seen my feet flailing, trying to reclaim my balance. “Beau? Beau?” she’d cried out in panic.
And then the TV screen was blue.
I turned slowly. The tracker was standing very still by the back exit, so still I hadn’t noticed her at first. In her hand was a remote control. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then she smiled.
She walked toward me, got just a few feet away, and then passed me to put the remote down next to the VCR. I pivoted carefully to watch her.
“Sorry about that, Beau, but isn’t it better that your mother didn’t really have to be involved in all this?” Her voice was kind.
And suddenly it hit me. My mom was safe. She was still in Florida. She’d never gotten my message. She’d never been terrified by the dark red eyes staring at me now. She wasn’t in pain. She was safe.
“Yes,” I answered, my voice breaking with relief. “You don’t sound angry that I tricked you.”
“I’m not.” My sudden high made me brave. What did it matter now? It would be over soon. Charlie and Mom would never be hurt, would never have to be afraid. I felt almost dizzy from the relief. Some analytical part of my mind warned me that I was close to snapping from the stress, but then, losing my mind sounded like a decent option right now.
“How odd. You really mean it.” Her dark eyes looked me up and down. The irises were nearly black, just a hint of ruby around the edges. Thirsty. “I will give your strange coven this much, you humans can be quite interesting. I guess I can see the draw of observing you more closely. It’s amazing—some of you seem to have no sense of your own self-interest at all.”
She was standing a few feet away from me, arms folded, looking at me curiously. There was no menace in her expression or stance. She was so average-looking, nothing remarkable about her face or body at all. Just the white skin, the circled eyes I was used to. She wore a pale blue, long- sleeved shirt and faded blue jeans.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me that your friends will avenge you?” she asked—hopefully, I thought.
“I asked them not to.”
“And what did your lover think of that?”
“I don’t know.” It was weird how easy it was to talk to her. “I left her a letter.”
“How romantic, a last letter. And do you think she will honor it?” Her voice was just a little harder now, a hint of sarcasm marring her polite tone.
“I hope so.”
“Hmmm. Well, our hopes differ then. You see, this was all just a little too easy, too quick. To be quite honest, I’m disappointed. I expected a much greater challenge. And, after all, I only needed a little luck.”
I waited silently.
“When Victor couldn’t get to your father, I had him learn more about you. What’s the sense in running all over the planet chasing you down when I could comfortably wait for you in a place of my choosing? After Victor gave me the information I needed, I decided to come to Phoenix to pay your mother a visit. I’d heard you say you were going home. At first, I never dreamed you meant it. But then I wondered. Humans can be very predictable; they like to be somewhere familiar.
“And wouldn’t it be the perfect ploy, to go to the last place you should be when you’re hiding—the place that you said you’d be.
“But of course I wasn’t sure, it was just a hunch. I usually get a feeling about the prey that I’m hunting, a sixth sense, if you will. I listened to your message when I got to your mother’s house, but of course I couldn’t be sure where you’d called from. It was very useful to have your number, but you could have been in Antarctica for all I knew, and the game wouldn’t work unless you were close by.
“Then your friends got on a plane to Phoenix. Victor was monitoring them for me, naturally; in a game with this many players, I couldn’t be working alone. And so they told me what I’d hoped—what I’d sensed—that you were here after all. I was prepared; I’d already been through your charming home movies. And then it was simply a matter of the bluff.
“Very easy, you know, not really up to my standards. So, you see, I’m hoping you’re wrong about the girl. Edythe, isn’t it?”
I didn’t answer. My bravado was wearing off. I could tell she was coming to the end of her monologuing, which I didn’t get the point of anyway. Why explain to me? Where was the glory in beating some weak human? I didn’t feel the need to rub it in to every cheeseburger I conquered. “Would you mind, very much, if I left a little letter of my own for
Edythe?”
She took a step back and touched a palm-sized digital video camera balanced carefully on top of the stereo. A small red light indicated that it was already running. She adjusted it a few times, widened the frame.
“I don’t think she’ll be able to resist hunting me after she watches this.” So this explained the gloating. It wasn’t for me.
I stared into the camera lens.
My mother was safe, but Edythe wasn’t. I tried to think of anything I could do to stop this from happening, to keep that video out of her hands,
but I knew I wasn’t fast enough to get to the camera before the tracker stopped me.
“I could be wrong about her level of interest,” Joss went on. “Obviously, you’re not important enough for her to decide to keep you. So… I’ll have to make this really offensive, won’t I?” She smiled at me, then turned to smile at the camera.
She stepped toward me, still smiling. “Before we begin…”
I’d known I was going to die. I’d thought I was prepared for that. I hadn’t considered any other version but this—she would kill me, drink my blood, and that would be the end.
There was a different version after all. I felt numb, frozen.
“I’m going to tell you a story, Beau. Once, a long time ago, my prey escaped me. Shocking, I know! It only happened the one time, so you can imagine how it’s haunted me. It was a similar situation in many ways. There was a delicious human boy—he smelled even better than you do, no offense
—but only one vampire protected him. It should have been a very easy meal. However, I underestimated the boy’s protector. When she knew I was after her little friend, she stole him from the asylum where she worked— can you imagine the degradation? Actually working a human job for your food?” She shook her head in disbelief. “As I was saying, she took him from the asylum, and once she freed him she made him safe. He was important enough to her, but then, he was special. A hundred years earlier he would have been burned at the stake for his visions. In the nineteen- twenties it was the asylum and the shock treatments. Poor boy—he didn’t even seem to notice the pain of his transformation. When he opened his eyes, it was like he’d never seen the sun before. The old vampire made him a strong new vampire, and there was no reason for me to touch him then, no blood to enjoy.” She sighed. “I destroyed the old one in vengeance.”
“Archie!” I breathed.
“Yes, your friend. I was so surprised to see him in the clearing. This is why I’ve told you my story—to bring them comfort. I get you, but they get him. My one lost quarry—quite an honor, actually.
“I still regret that I never got to taste…”
She took another step toward me. Now she was just inches away. She leaned her face in closer to me, stretching up on her toes so that her nose
could skim up the side of my throat. The touch of her cold skin made me want to recoil, but I couldn’t move.
“I suppose you’ll do,” she said. “But not quite yet. We’ll have some fun first, and then I’ll call your friends and tell them where to find you—and my little message.”
I was still numb. The only thing I was starting to be able to feel was my stomach, rolling with nausea. I stared into the camera, and it was like Edythe was already watching.
The tracker stepped back and began to circle me casually, like she was trying to get a better view of a statue in a museum. Her face was still friendly as she decided where to start. And then her smile got wider and wider and wider till her mouth was just a gash full of teeth. She slumped forward into a crouch.
I didn’t see what part of her hit me—it was too fast. She just blurred, there was a loud snap, and my right arm was suddenly hanging like it wasn’t connected to my elbow anymore. The very last thing was the pain— it lanced up my arm a long second later.
The hunter was watching again now, but her face hadn’t gone back to normal, it was still mostly teeth. She waited for the pain to hit me, watched as I gasped and curled in around my broken arm.
Before I could even feel all of the first pain, while it was still building, she blurred again, and with more snapping pops, something knocked me back against the wall—the bar buckled behind my back and the mirrors splintered.
A strange, animal-like whine escaped between my teeth. I tried to suck in another breath, and it was like a dozen knives were stabbing my lungs.
“That’s a nice effect, don’t you think?” she asked, her face friendly again. She touched one of the spiderweb lines running away from where I’d hit the wall. “As soon as I saw this place, I knew it was the right set for my little film. Visually dynamic. And so many angles—I wouldn’t want Edythe to miss even one little thing.”
I didn’t see her move, but there was another tiny crunch, and a dull throbbing started in my left index finger.
“Still on his feet,” she said, and then she laughed.
The next crack was much louder—like a muffled detonation. The room seemed to fly up past me, like I was dropping through a hole. The agony hit
the same time I hit the floor.
I choked on the scream that was trying to rip out of my throat, fighting through the bile that flooded my esophagus. There wasn’t enough air, I couldn’t fill my lungs. A strange, smothered groan seemed to come from deep inside my torso.
My body automatically coughed out the vomit so I could breathe, even though breathing felt like it was tearing my insides apart. The pain from my broken arm was throbbing in the background now—my leg was center stage. That pain was still peaking. I was splayed awkwardly on the floor in a pool of my own vomit, but I couldn’t move anything.
She was down on her knees by my head now, and the red light was flashing in her hand.
“Time for your close-up, Beau.”
I coughed more acid from my throat, wheezing.
“Now, what I’d like here is a retraction. Can you do that for me? You do me a favor, I speed this up a little. Does that sound fair?”
My eyes couldn’t focus on her face—the red flashing light seemed hazy. “Just tell Edythe how much this all hurts,” she coaxed. “Tell her that you want vengeance—you deserve it. She brought you into this. In a very real
sense, she’s the one who’s hurting you here. Try to sell it.” My eyes closed.
She lifted my head with surprising gentleness—though the movement sent ricochets of torture through my arms and ribs.
“Beau,” she said softly, like I was sleeping and she was trying to wake me. “Beau? You can do this. Tell Edythe to come after me.”
She shook me lightly, and a sound like a sigh leaked out of my lungs. “Beau dear, you have so many bones left—and the big ones can be
broken in so many places. Do what I want, please.”
I looked at her out-of-focus face. She wasn’t making me a real offer.
Nothing I said now would save me. And there was too much at stake.
Carefully, I shook my head once. Maybe Edythe would know what I meant.
“It doesn’t want to scream,” she said in a funny little singsong voice. “Should we make it scream?”
I waited for the next snap.
Instead, she gently lifted my good arm and held my hand to her lips. The
next pain was hardly even pain, compared to the rest. She could have easily taken off my finger, but she just nipped it. Her teeth didn’t even go that deep.
I barely reacted, but she jumped up and spun away. My head thumped against the ground, and my broken ribs screamed. I watched her, strangely detached as she paced the far end of the room, snarling and shaking her head back and forth. She’d left the camera by my head, still running.
The first hint of what she’d done was the heat—my finger was so hot. I was surprised I could even feel that over the bigger agonies. But I remembered Carine’s story. I knew what had started. I didn’t have much time.
She was still trying to calm herself—the blood, that was the problem. She’d gotten some of my blood in her mouth, but she didn’t want to kill me yet, so she had to fight off the frenzy. She was distracted, but it wouldn’t take much to catch her attention.
The heat was building fast. I tried to ignore that, to ignore the stabbing in my chest. My hand shot out and I had the camera. I raised it up as high as I could and smashed it back toward the ground.
And I was flying backward, into the broken mirrors. The glass punctured my shoulders, my scalp. The impact seemed to rebreak all of my broken bones. But that wasn’t why I screamed.
Fire had ignited my bitten finger—flames exploded across my palm. Heat was scorching up my wrist. It was fire that was more than fire—a pain that was more than pain.
The other agonies were nothing. Broken bones weren’t pain. Not like this.
The screaming sounded like it was coming from someplace outside my body—it was an unbroken yowling that was like an animal again.
My eyes were fixed, staring, and I saw the red light flashing in the tracker’s hand. She’d been too fast, and I’d failed.
But I didn’t care anymore.
Blood was running down my arm, pooling under my elbow.
The tracker’s nostrils were flared, her eyes wild, her teeth bared. The blood dripped onto the floor, but I couldn’t hear it over the screaming. Here was my last shred of hope. She wouldn’t be able to stop herself now. She would have to kill me. Finally.
Her mouth opened wide. I waited, screaming.
