A Night Without Stars (12 page)

“As long as you have those marks on your hand, Angelique will be able to find you,” Maximus said, effectively shutting me up. “There are only two ways to get rid of them.”

When he hesitated, I all but shouted, “What? Tell me. Tell me!”

His jaw clenched, the muscles tightening and flexing as though trying to prevent his next words from escaping. “You can either kill the drinker who bit you…”

Kill Angelique? I barely managed to contain a snort. Not likely.

“…or cut off your hand.”

Well, then. It looked like I was going to be killing a vampire.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Point and Shoot

“How do I do it? A stake to the heart? Poison her with garlic? Throw her out a window at high noon?”  

Maximus’ expression was vaguely pitying. “Does everything you know about vampires come from the movies?”

“We don’t exactly study them at school.”

Reaching behind him, he pulled something from the waistband of his pants. Something very long and very sharp. Something that looked suspiciously like…

“Is that a knife?” I asked, wide-eyed. “How many weapons do you
have
?”

“Enough.”

How many weapons did one need to fight off a horde of vampires? I didn’t even want to know. Did Dad have any guns in the apartment? I was pretty sure the answer was a big fat no. Mom had never liked them, and with the exception of the drinking and the unemployment Dad never did anything Mom didn’t like.

It hit me then, so strong I felt the pang of it like a physical blow to the gut. My mother and sister. I hadn’t even thought of them until now. What was
wrong
with me? Was I really so selfish that I was only capable of thinking about myself? I needed to find a way to reach them, to see if they were okay. Except for a short text message in April (
hope school is going well luv mom
) my last seven phone calls had gone unanswered. Which meant if I called and no one picked up it would simply be business as usual. If I ever found my phone would there be missed calls on it? Or in a state of chaos was I nothing more than an after thought, ranking somewhere above Dad and below the gardener?  

I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. It was Maximus, angling the knife towards my left hand. He’d moved so fast I hadn’t even seen him until it was too late. With one arm he caught me around the waist and dragged me up against his chest, pinning my arms against my sides and effectively rendering me completely helpless.

“Are you crazy?” I cried. “What are you doing?”

“Choose,” he whispered against my ear. The knife wavered in my peripheral vision, the fluorescent light glinting off the silver blade.

“Choose between you hacking off my hand or killing a vampire?” I bit out through gritted teeth. “Gee, what a decision. How about Option C? The one where you get the hell off of me.”

He spun me away from him so fast and so hard I almost crashed into a pile of metal chairs. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“Why would you lock yourself in a storage unit with a complete stranger?” he countered, one eyebrow rising. The knife was gone, most likely tucked back up beneath his jacket. He leaned up against the desk, bracing his arms along the sides. The black t-shirt he wore under the jacket pulled taut, molding to a chiseled set of abs I really couldn’t afford to think about at the moment. “I could be one of them.”

“You’re not,” I said confidently.

“How do you know?”

“Because you would have killed me already.”

His mouth tightened into a hard, flat line. “Exactly. I would have killed you already. You’re defenseless, Lola. Helpless. Hopeless. You need to learn to protect yourself, or you won’t last through the night.”

I tossed my head back. “And I suppose you’re going to teach me? Who are you, anyways? No changing the subject,” I warned, pointing my finger at him. “And no distractions. Tell me the truth, or I walk.”

“You walk and you’re dead.”

“Then I’m dead.” I shrugged. “What do you care?”

A line appeared in the middle of his forehead as his eyebrows pulled together. He started to speak, changed his mind, and ran a hand through his hair instead, pulling the ends straight up. “I shouldn’t,” he growled after a long pause. “You’re a distraction I can’t afford.”

I threw my hands up. “Then leave! I’m not your responsibility.”
I’m not anyone’s responsibility
. I didn’t say the words out loud, but they echoed in my head all the same.

I was going to find my dad.

I was going to find Travis.

But who was coming to find me?

No one.

“You know what?” I said when he simply stood and stared. “I’ll go. You stay.” I marched to the door, wrapped my fingers around the chair Maximus had jammed under the latch, and tugged. It didn’t budge. Of course not. That would mean something would have to go my way, and right now I couldn’t help but feel the entire world was against me.

“If you go out there by yourself with those scars on your hand you might as well douse yourself in blood and run through the streets naked.”

I rounded on him, hands clinging to my hips, steam all but pouring out my ears. “Then what do you suggest I do!” I cried, frustration bringing my voice to a fever pitch. “I can’t stay here anymore. Not when I know my dad and my best friend are out there somewhere. You’re right. I am defenseless. I don’t know how to shoot a gun or use a knife but I have to do
something
!”

He studied me intently, those stormy eyes of his holding secrets I couldn’t even begin to guess at. “You are right as well,” he said at last.

Well those were two words I didn’t expect to hear. Ever. “I am?”

“It’s almost been an hour. We can’t stay here all night. They’ll track us sooner or later. Your best bet is to keep moving.”

“And your best bet?” I asked.

He didn’t hesitate. “To stay away from you. Here, take this.”

I stared stupidly at Maximus’ gun. He held it out to me, his palm flat. “I just told you, I don’t know how—”

“Here,” he interrupted, “you hold it like this.” Demonstrating, he stepped away from the desk, wrapped both hands around the grip, and pointed the long, sleek muzzle straight at the wall. “It’s already loaded. The only thing you have to do is click off the safety, point, and shoot.”

“Oh, is that all?” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

He lowered the gun. “That’s all. You have ten bullets. Aim right between the eyes or dead center of the chest. Anywhere else will wound, but it won’t kill. If you’re not sure if the Drinker is dead keep shooting until you are.”

He held the gun out again, and this time I took it. “It’s heavy,” I said, surprised and a little unsettled by the weight and feel of cold steel against my skin. “How do I carry it?”

“Here’s the holster. Clip it to the side of your jeans instead of the back. It will be easier to grab if you need it.”

The holster was a small, black circle of canvas with a metal clip on one side. The muzzle of the gun fit into the middle of the circle and I attached it to my right side. “Point and shoot,” I murmured. I stepped to the side so Maximus could move the chair from the door, and then there was nothing between me and the outside except my own fear.

“Move quickly,” Maximus said, as though he could read my mind. “You don’t have far to travel, which is good. Get inside your apartment and barricade yourself until dawn. At first light you can try to find your friend, but not before. It’s too dangerous. Get a reliable car. Steal one if you have to. Make sure it’s filled with gas and head north, towards the Poconos. You need to be gone by noon, do you understand?”

“But what if Travis—”

“Noon, Lola. No later. You need time to get as far away from here as you can, with or without your friend.”

I should have asked why.

Why noon?

Why do we have to leave Revere?

Why are you helping me?

But of course I didn’t. You can add it to the list if you want: Stupid Mistakes – 4 (and counting), Lola – 0.

“I take it you’re not coming with me.” I meant to sound glib, as though I didn’t care one way or the other, but my voice fell miserably flat.

His gaze pinned to the door, Maximus said, “I would if I could. I would,” he insisted when I made a scoffing sound of disbelief. “But there are… things I need to do, and you’ll be safer without me. I’ll find you tomorrow before you go if… I’ll find you,” he finished lamely, but the words he didn’t say lingered all the same.

I’ll find you tomorrow… if you’re still alive.

I thought I felt the brush of his fingertips through my hair, but when I glanced to the side his arms were crossed rigidly over his chest.

“This is all absolutely nuts, you know that right?”

“I know,” he agreed.

“If I wake up in a straight jacket tomorrow I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.”

The corners of his mouth twitched and he finally dragged his eyes away from the door to look at me, his gaze as heavy as it was unreadable. “I am glad I met you, Lola.”

“I, uh, yeah.” Suddenly, inexplicably flustered I turned my head sharply to the side when I felt my cheeks begin to burn. “I mean I’m glad I met you too but only because, you know, you gave me a gun and… stuff.”

“Be careful,” he said solemnly.

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. Not when my vocal chords were tightening just
thinking
about repeating what he’d said to me. It was stupid to worry about a boy I barely knew, but I
was
worried. I was worried for him and I was worried for me and I was worried for my dad and I was worried for Travis. I was drowning in worry so thick it was hard to breath.

As though he could sense my sudden hesitation Maximus reached past me and opened the door. “I’ll lead them away from here. Count to sixty, and then go. Do not stop, for any reason, no matter what you see or hear. Do you understand?”

My head bobbed as though I were a puppet on a string.
Do not stop. Shoot anything with fangs
. Yes, I understood.

Maximus turned off the light before he stepped out into the night. I tried to follow him with my eyes, but the inky darkness swallowed him up completely, leaving nothing behind but steel and shadow.

Heart racing and palms sweating, I began to count.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Beer

Nothing tried to kill me on the way to the apartment complex, which I took to be a good sign. Unfortunately, my luck ran out at the front entrance when I found the manager, Mr. Jacobson. He was a cool guy. Told dirty jokes. Never gave my dad shit when our rent was late (which it always was). 

Now was slumped against the door, his arms and legs splayed out to the side. The glass above his head was streaked with blood the color of rust. He might have been sleeping, if he slept with his eyes wide open and his mouth gaping in terror.

It was, I realized dimly, the second dead person I’d seen in less than twelve hours. I should have run screaming in horror. Instead I just looked away, gave his body a wide berth, and hurried inside. It’s funny how quick we get used to things.

Phones with touch screens.

Renting movies out of a box.

Dead people covered in blood.

The lobby, with its plain brown carpeting and matching walls, was dark. I tried hitting the row of light switches hidden behind a plastic fern, but nothing came on.

I took the stairs two at a time, making an effort to keep my footsteps as quiet as possible. I waited for a creature – I couldn’t wrap my mind around the word ‘vampire’, at least not yet – to jump out of the shadows and attack, but the only thing that greeted me when I reached the third floor was an eerie silence.

The air stank of sweat and cigarettes. Mrs. Dobbs in 4C must have been smoking again. I wondered if she was still alive. If any of them were. The fat cat lady whose name I didn’t remember. Old Mr. Graham two units down who pulled a lawn chair into the middle of the hall every Sunday to read his newspaper. Sue and Olivia, married last spring, who always waved when they saw me.

I thought of them, all of them, as I passed by their doors to get to my own, using memory and my hand against the wall to guide me through the dark. Some of the units were open, but I didn’t look inside. I didn’t need to. The blood stained carpet told me everything I needed to know.

Mimicking every bad cop movie I’d ever seen, I tugged Maximus’ gun free from the canvas holster on my hip and held it out in front of me, elbows locked. It really
was
heavy, and by the time I reached our apartment at the end of the hall my arms were trembling.

The door was ajar. I nudged it open with the toe of my sneaker and, with my heart somewhere in the vicinity of my throat, stepped slowly inside.

Air came out of my mouth in a whoosh of pain when my shins collided with something hard. I stumbled, arms wind milling for balance. The gun slipped out of my hand and went skidding across the floor. Unable to save myself I hit the ground with a hard thud, taking a lamp and stack of magazines down with me. The lamp shattered on impact. My feet crunched on broken glass and bits of cheap porcelain as I used the edge of the sofa to pull myself up.

So much for being quiet.

The apartment complex lost power so often I kept a spare flashlight next to the TV. It wasn’t there now, but a quick search of the carpet revealed it had rolled against the wall. Holding it away from my face I clicked it on and saw right away why I had taken a header when I came through the door.

Nothing was where it should have been. Furniture was overturned. Windows were broken. Desk drawers were cracked in half on the floor, their contents scattered. The trash bin in the kitchen was knocked over, the linoleum covered in empty frozen dinner boxes. The apartment had been torn apart, in every sense of the word.