A Night Without Stars (27 page)

The smell of blood hit me like a wall. It tasted metallic on my tongue and I closed my mouth tight, grinding my teeth together until my jaw ached. Still the scent of it invaded my nostrils, sweet and ripe as an apple left out to rot in the sun. My stomach cramped and vomit rose in the back of my throat; knee jerk reactions to what the smell of blood had come to signify: death.

A drinker had been inside the hotel. What else would be strong enough to gouge claw marks down the side of the main desk? Our stockpile of supplies had been shredded. Travis’ beloved plastic horse was knocked over and its head ripped off. What little furniture remained in the lobby had been completely torn apart, as though the drinker had gone into some kind of mindless rage when it entered the hotel and destroyed everything in sight.

With my heart in my throat and a dull roaring in my ears I sprinted to the stairwell and took the steps two at a time, screaming for Dad and Travis.

The thick carpet muffled my footsteps as I tore down the hall, bypassing door after door until I got to the room Travis and I shared. The door was closed but not locked. I threw it open and catapulted inside, banging off one wall and into another. My shin slammed against the corner of the bureau but the pain didn’t register. Nothing mattered except finding my dad and Travis. I was so consumed with mind numbing panic that I could have sliced off a finger and not felt a thing.

The scent of blood was stronger here. I couldn’t see any, but there was no mistaking the sickly sweet smell of it for anything else. No point in convincing myself I was imagining things.

I tore the room apart, ripping open drawers, flinging clothes, shoving the mattress halfway off the bed frame, hoping for something,
anything
that would tell me where they’d gone. A note. A letter. A freaking neon arrow pointing out the window. But there was nothing. No evidence they’d ever been here at all.

Until I found the blood in the bathroom.

It was like something straight out of a horror movie. Bright red blood was streaked down the mirror. Splattered up against the tiles in the shower. Trickling down the wall. And on the lid of the toilet… A bloody handprint.

I threw up in the sink, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and staggered into Dad’s room. A frantic search revealed it was just as empty as mine had been. But I knew they had to be somewhere inside the hotel. The blood was too fresh for them not to be.

I searched each room. Every one was the same. Empty. They were all empty.

It was the same on the fourth floor. The third. The second. The first. Finally there was nowhere else to go but the basement, the one place we’d always managed to avoid.

Until now.

I stepped cautiously down the stairs. With no windows and no light it was impossibly dark. I used the wall to guide me when I reached the bottom landing and my hands fumbled across the cool brick until I found a door.

Squinting, I managed to make out a dim hallway, narrower than the ones above. There was no carpet on the floor and my footsteps echoed on the hard floor as I crept deeper into the bowels of the hotel than I’d ever gone before.

“Please, please, please,” I whispered as I edged forward an inch at a time. They couldn’t be dead. They
couldn’t
be. Not now. Not after everything we’d gone through. Not when Angelique was finally dead. 

When I saw light blossoming around the edges of a door at the very end of the corridor my knees almost buckled in relief. I’d finally found them. They were hiding, just like they should have been. Hiding away where no drinker could possibly find them.

And if I were in my right mind, if I wasn’t half mad with fear, I would have realized how stupid I was. 

A breathless laugh forced its way past my lips as I ran towards the door. I’d worried myself to death for nothing. Travis was going to get a huge kick out it.

Except the scent of blood was stranger than ever before, and I couldn’t shake the terrible feeling of dread that threatened to choke me with every gasping breath.

“Dad! Travis! I’m here. It’s me, Lola! I’m back.” I tested the door handle. It was unlocked. I pushed it open and instantly covered my eyes, blinded by the light pointing straight at my face.

Gradually my vision returned. It refocused like a camera lens, sharpening slowly around the edges before spiraling in towards the middle until everything was clear. Clear as crystal. And I saw who was lying on the ground in a pool of blood. And I saw who was standing over him. And I saw what I had chosen to overlook for far too long.

“Is he dead?” My voice was flat. Emotionless. My question a rhetorical one. Of course Travis was dead. No one could lose that much blood and survive. It seeped across the floor, reaching all the way to the door and I was forced to step in it as I walked towards the body of my best friend.

Maximus lowered the flashlight he’d been holding. He looked straight at me and my breath whooshed out to stain the air with shock and betrayal.

Even now, faced with Travis lying bloodied and broken on the floor, I could barely believe it. Even after everything I’d learned last night, I had not allowed myself to imagine… I had never truly thought… But the blood couldn’t lie and Maximus’ face was covered with it.

“You,” I whispered in agony. “How could it be you?”

His mouth opened and closed. He was quick, so quick, but I saw the flash of silver before he could conceal it. He reached out his hand to me in a silent plea. Travis’ blood dripped from his fingertips.

“This is not what it looks like,” he said quickly as his gaze darted from my face to Travis and back again. “Lola, you don’t understand. Let me explain.”

“Isn’t what it looks like?” I repeated dully. I waited for the pain, for even though I had denounced Maximus last night some part of me still trusted him. Still believed in him. Still wanted to stand beside him.

But instead of pain I felt… numb. Cold. Distant, as though this were happening to someone else instead of me. As if someone else’s best friend was dead on the floor in a congealing pool of their own blood.

“You’re one of
them
, Maximus. You’re a… a drinker. You’re a monster.” My voice trembled. “And you killed Travis.
You killed him
.”

Maximus’ gaze dropped to my right hand.

My gun. I’d forgotten I even had it until I entered the basement. I had taken it out of its holster as an after thought, not really thinking I would use it, but now I took a deep breath and slowly held it up.

Maximus took a step back. Stopped. His arms fell to his sides, the light pooling at his feet and throwing his face in shadow. He squared his shoulders. “Do it then. I showed you how. One shot to the head, one to the heart. Just do it, Lola. If you think I could have done this I am dead already.”

“No.” I looked down at Travis. Poor, sweet, innocent Travis. His eyes were still open, staring up blindly up at the ceiling. “He’s the one who is dead.”

I aimed the gun dead center of Maximus’ chest. Aimed it right at his black, lying heart.

“Lola, I love—”

I pulled the trigger. 

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

Talk about a cliffhanger! I must admit I don’t like them any better than you do, but since Lola’s story began with a bang it only seemed fitting to end it with one. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed spending a few hours of your time with Lola, Maximus, Travis, ‘Dad’, and Angelique. Not to worry, her story isn’t complete. In fact, I’m most likely writing the second novel in the Death Day trilogy even as you’re reading this. If you enjoyed
A Night Without Stars
(or even if you didn’t!) please consider sharing your opinion through a review, whether it be on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, or (my personal favorite) Goodreads. Many thanks! – Jillian

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jillian is twenty-seven years old and grew up in Maine. No, she (unfortunately) did not have a pet moose. She did, however, start writing when she was in the first grade and hasn't stopped since. Back then her stories revolved around fairy princesses, unicorns, and big smelly trolls. Now she enjoys writing historical romances and young adult novels, but one day hopes to get back to the fairy princesses and big smelly trolls.

She absolutely loves to hear from her readers, and can be contacted through her
Facebook
page or by e-mail.

[email protected]