Damned if I Do (13 page)

I feel drained. This display of my pyrokinetic power has left me feeling like I am boneless. Between that and my punctured side, I can barely breathe or move.

Please let Anthony die.

There's a loud warbling noise, and I dimly realize that the fire alarm is going off. I don't have the strength to move, let alone run or summon up a water spell, so my only chance of surviving this is if a firefighter comes and rescues me.

It probably will be too late
. Whether it is the fact that I'm drained or I've been preparing for this for five months now, I am at peace with the idea of it. I got Anthony. Amelia is safe for now.

I'll stop hurting soon enough. The thought calms me. I'm ready for death.

Edie

My eyes flutter closed, only to be reopened when I scream. There's a painful shock of pressure on my side as someone roughly picks me up in their arms.

"Godammit, Harker, you're not dying on my watch."

"J—jude?"

The white scar on his forehead is bright, standing out in the red-hot hell we're in. Somehow, even without a car, he got back to Austin, still stalking me like some sort of Edward Cullen knockoff. And I'm so glad to see him, despite the possibly that he could be chums with Anthony.

He huffs even though my weight is nothing for his vampire strength. "Did you get all of them?" he asks.

"I…don't…know," I wheeze. I press a hand to my back where I'm bleeding.

His face crinkles into concern. "You're hurt badly," he says.

"It was…bound to happen…”

There's a spark of humor in his eyes as he regards me. "See why you should keep me around, Harker?"

"Glad you're…here now…" I admit truthfully. "You're not on Anthony's…side…" I mean for that to be a question, but it comes out as a statement.

He doesn't answer, and that's reassuring enough for me at the moment.

He shifts me in his arms. "Let's get you out of here."

I decide it would take too much strength to agree so I lay back and hope he can take me out of there. Since the fire is supernatural, it has spread rapidly across the house. I've destroyed my family home. The weapons room with priceless relics and what remains of my family's history is going to be destroyed, along with Graeme's and Amelia's things. I know that at certain times in the past, my ancestors have had to sacrifice a few pieces of history due to fire, but this is going to be a huge chunk of it. I'm going to lose all my weapons, my journals, Meghan's fighting outfit—everything. Graeme and Amelia are homeless now. 

And it's all my fault.

I try running through different scenarios in my mind to see if there's any other alternative. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I know that I'm losing a piece of myself with this house.

Jude picks up my distress. "You're alive," he tells me. "That's all that matters."

Without waiting for my reply, he swiftly makes his way down the stairs, dodging falling embers and fire that's devouring the house. We're out on the front lawn faster than I could have moved had I been uninjured. I don't see any vampires, but that doesn't mean that they were all incinerated. I know better than that.

The quick travel leaves me a bit disoriented and I numbly watch the roof of the two-story house collapse on the western side. Had we been in there two seconds longer, we would have been barbecued.

I wish that I could turn my power back on, that I'd been practicing my water abilities more before now. If I wasn't so drained, if I knew how to control that part of me more, I could douse the house and save some of it.

My body won't let me do it.

Jude heads to my Lancer, ignoring the crumbling house as if he has one thing on his mind. "Keys, Harker."

“You always…want to drive…” I wheeze.

With my right hand, I fumble in my front pocket for the keys. He unlocks and opens the door, setting me in the passenger's seat much like a mother places her baby in a crib. Gently. He spots a towel in the back seat and bundles it up to apply pressure to the gaping hole in my side.

"You're going to need to get that looked at," he tells me.

"I'll be fine," I say. "Graeme…can look at it." Once my superhuman ability to heal kicks in, I'll be fine, I just need to last until then.

Jude regards me in silence for a second, his face soft. He genuinely is worried about me, not that I can blame him with my guts spilling out all over the place. He looks like he’s about to say something, maybe to kiss me, then thinks better of it and closes the door

I sink into my seat, angling myself to allow the towel to push into my side, even though it hurts like a son of a bitch.

Jude gets into the driver's seat, turns on the car, and peels out of the driveway onto the road as soon as we hear the sirens of the fire department a few blocks away. If it wasn't for Jude, I'd be trapped under piles of burning slabs.

Thank you
, I say silently.

As if hearing my thoughts, he glances at me.

Once the firefighters get there, I know what will follow is a load of paperwork and interrogation about what happened. I know Fire Chief Jeff Mann, and more importantly, he knows what I am and has covered for Meghan and me in the past. But this is going to be a huge headache for all of us involved, most notably Graeme.

"Graeme and Amelia?" I ask. “Carl—"

"They're fine," Jude says, cutting me off. "I passed by them on my way here. They were on the road and no one was following them." He leans over towards me, and I'm momentarily disoriented since I have no idea what he's doing. Something is dropped into my lap, and I realize that he handed me my purse. I must have left it in the passenger's side when I ran into the house.

"Call them," he says.

I try not to notice the tremble of my hands as I take out my phone and dial Graeme. This is a conversation that I'm dreading.

Graeme answers on the second ring. "Edie!" he shrieks into the phone. "Are you hurt? Are you—"

"I need a bit of…patchwork from you," I say, glad that my voice isn't betraying the extent of my damage. Hopefully that means it's healing already. "Are you guys okay?"

"Yes, we're fine," Graeme says in his matter-of-fact way. "Carl left to go check his mother.”

“You’re safe?”

“Amelia is more frightened than anything. But your cat hasn't left her side."

My heart breaks for my niece, who now doesn't have a home. I clear my throat, ready for his horror at that. "The house is destroyed," I blurt out, my voice cracking on the last word. I think that maybe I should have let him down easier.

There's stunned silence on the other end. "As in the vampires wrecked it?"

"It's burning…to the ground…at the moment." I massage my forehead. "I used some fire magic…and it got out of hand."

More stunned silence. Such a bad idea to tell him like this. Why the hell do I not have any tact?

Graeme takes a shuddering, heavy sigh. "But you're safe?"

I glance at Jude. "Yes," I say. The vampire glances my way curiously. "The fire department is on the way too."

"Shit," Graeme says, reaching the same conclusion about how bad of a headache it's going to be. "All right, I'll give Jeff a call," he says. "This is going to be a nightmare to deal with."

My exact sentiments. I close my eyes and wipe my tears away. "I'm so sorry, Graeme."

There's another long pause on his end. "There's nothing to be sorry about," he tells me gently. "You saved our lives, Edie."

"Y'all are my family."

"We're at the Ramada Inn. Getting a room now."

We say our goodbyes and hang up. "Fuck," I mutter.

I fish out a cigarette and light it up, inhaling as deep as my damaged side will allow me to breathe. I close my eyes, getting lost in the taste. The one dependable thing in my life at the moment.

"You're going to kill yourself with those," Jude says.

I point to the now-red towel on my side. “I have bigger things that’ll kill me first."

He chuckles bitterly. "So, the Ramada Inn?" he asks.

Vampires have great hearing. "Yes," I say, although I'm already running through everything in my mind, determined to find out if Anthony survived.

Nobody fucks with me or my family.

Jude

On the way to the hotel, Edie gets another phone call. She fumbles to bring the phone to her ear, so much that I think she’s going to start bleeding out again.

"Carl?" she asks, panicked. “Is everything okay at your house?”

There’s a pause and she leans back into her seat. I try not listening in, as she needs her privacy. "Good," she sighs, relieved. "I'm going to stay with Graeme and Amelia. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

Pause.

"You too."

She hangs up and puts her head in her hands, like she can’t contain her emotions. I wish there was some way I could help her. Comfort her.

“I guess they’re all right?” I ask.

She takes as deep a breath as she can before she speaks. “Yeah. Nothing happened on their side.” She closes her eyes and sits back in her seat. “So it was directly targeted at me.”

I want to tell her that it’s not her fault, but I don’t trust myself at the moment. I want to ask her if she trusts me again. I want to ask her if she feels anything else. Surely, after risking my life to save hers, she knows. I don’t say anything though.

The Ramada Inn is off Koenig Lane, about ten minutes from what was her house. We drive the rest of the way in silence.

By the time I pull up into a parking spot at the hotel, she’s been so quiet, it unnerves me. I hope she doesn’t have permanent damage from her injuries. Maybe I should have taken her to the hospital.

When I put the car in park, she finally does speak.

"You can just drop me off here, Jude."

Fuck that.

I get out and quickly move to her side so she can’t protest. I bend down to pick her up in my arms, keeping her bad, bloodied side closest towards my body, so the weight of her presses against the towel. I also grab her purse, because I know she’ll want to have her phone and cigarettes nearby.

"Think I'll let you get off that easy?" I mutter. "You're a danger to yourself right now, Harker."

She shifts against me and hisses a sharp intake of breath. There’s no way she would have been able to walk in by herself. It’s ludicrous for her to even suggest it.

She checks her phone. "It's room 213."

“Act like you’re too drunk to walk.”

“That won’t be too hard.” She chuckles, which ends in a coughing fit.

Hurrying without trying to look like I am, I take a leisurely pace up the steps into the lobby, trying to look casual for the other humans. I don’t pause by the front desk and continue walking right to the elevator. I wonder if the person behind the desk thinks she’s some sort of floozy from Sixth Street.

We step into the elevator and she inhales sharply again. I press the button for the second floor.

"Almost there," I say.

"Good, because this fucking hurts."

I press my lips into a thin line, feeling the skin around the piercing flaring in pain from the movement. It’s nothing compared to what she’s feeling.

When we get to 213, I don’t even have to knock. A little girl opens the door and practically throws herself on me to get to Edie.

"Auntie Edie!"

Edie stifles a cry of pain when I have to shift her slightly to shield her from the frantic toddler. Then the little girl gets one look at her aunt’s face and bursts into tears.

"I'm okay, Amelia," Edie whispers.

I’ve seen Amelia from a distance, but never this close. There’s something immensely innocent and charming about her. I can see why Edie has been protective of her.

She reaches out her hand, but it's red from trying to stem the flow of blood. Amelia's eyes go wide and she cowers backwards.

"I have a bad boo-boo," Edie adds quietly.

There's further movement deeper in the room and a man’s head appears in the doorway, the same man from the previous Harker’s funeral. So this is Graeme. His eyes curiously flick to me before settling on Edie. Without further pause, he wraps her up into a bear hug. She cries out at the movement and he lets go of her like she is on fire.

"Sorry.” His cheeks flush as he looks back to me. "And you are…?" he asks.

"Jude. I'm one of Edie's friends."

A muscle in Graeme's cheek tics, but he nods and gestures for us to come inside.

At first, I think Graeme is unhappy that there's a vampire in the same vicinity as his daughter, then I realize that he wouldn't be able to tell a vampire from a bat.

So, that means what? Maybe my appearance sets him on edge? I look down at my chain tattoos and I know the piercings on my face are in stark contrast to how he dresses. Then again, I just saved Edie’s life, so he must trust me a little.

The door shuts behind us, and we're in a typical hotel room, two double beds, an armchair, a small desk and desk chair, and a flat screen tv on the wall. A cat sits on one of the beds, her ears flattened to her head. Her eyes are wild. She doesn’t like me.

"Over there," Graeme says, gesturing to the chair. "What am I looking at Edie?"

I gently set Edie into the chair with her injured side up. "Railing," she tells him. "It broke, and I…landed on a big splinter."

I can tell that’s she’s trying to keep it light for Amelia's sake.

I sit on the bed across from Edie, watching her. I’m helpless right now. I’m only good at destroying things. I can’t heal her or take away her pain, no matter how much I want to.

Gingerly, Graeme lifts up the hoodie to inspect the wound. He hisses in air through his teeth. "Amelia," he says, "I need you to go to the bathroom. Or…"

"Daddy, what's wrong?" Amelia asks, her bottom lip trembling.

"I can look after her," I say. I know the next few minutes are going to be crucial and I don’t want Graeme worrying about his daughter and potentially botching Edie’s care.

Graeme looks at me, considering the option.

“You can trust him, Graeme,” Edie says, groaning.

Despite the fact that she is all but bleeding out in front of my eyes, I fight the urge to beam at her. She
does
trust me. And her trust for me must have won out, because Graeme takes out his wallet and holds out a credit card to me.

"Take her downstairs," Graeme says. "And get another room for Edie. I think she's going to need some peace and quiet away from a three-year-old."

I stand without taking the card from him. "I'll pay for it.”

Graeme looks shocked at this. Finally, he nods. "Just…don't let my daughter out of your sight.”

I smile. "Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

I added the “sir” to throw him off further, which works to my pleasure

"C'mon kid," I say to the three-year-old. "Let's go pick out a room for Auntie Edie."

"'Kay," Amelia says. She hasn't quite warmed up to me yet, but she's not running away, so I guess that’s a sign she’s still reserving judgment. “Can I take my backpack?”

I notice that there’s a backpack with the characters from
Frozen
on it. “Of course.”

She runs and grabs it. “Get better, Auntie Edie,” she says, a tremor in her voice.

Edie’s skin has taken on a pallid tone, and I don’t like it one bit.

“I will,” she replies.

I follow the kid out of the room and towards the elevator. She’s a short little girl, but there’s something authoritative about her. I remind myself that she was the daughter of the previous Harker. There’s something infinitely old about her.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“Jude.”

“Mine’s Amelia. I’m three.” She holds up the appropriate number of fingers. “You?”

I don’t know how to tell her my age, mainly because it’s either saying that I’m fifty years old or something else entirely. I admittedly haven’t had too much contact with little kids, so I don’t know exactly what to do with her.

“Are you a vamper?”

It takes me a few seconds to realize that she means “vampire”. The elevator dings and opens and she leads me inside. Luckily, we’re the only ones.

“Can I push the button?”

“Sure this one.” I indicate the button with the “L” on it for “Lobby”. “What makes you ask if I’m a vampire?”

“I don’t know.” She scratches her head. “You feel…funny inside my head.”

So this is Edie’s “vampy sense” that she’s always talking about. If a three year old can tell that I’m a vampire, I’m wondering how her father can’t tell. I guess that’s the difference between Harkers and humans though.

“Does that bother you?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Are you a bad one?”

“No.” I hope not.

“Are you Auntie Edie’s boyfriend?”

“I’d like to be,” I reply.

The doors open, and Amelia has apparently warmed up enough to take my hand and lead me out into the lobby.

“Why aren’t you her boyfriend?” she asks.

“I’m not sure.”

“She’s been sad.” Amelia takes on a pensive look as she says this. “I want her happy.”

“Me too.”

This three-year-old is making me feel more exposed than I have been in a long time. Maybe I should be around children more often. She’s blowing the doors off of emotions and thoughts that I’ve kept buried. I kneel in front of the little girl, bringing my eyes to her level.

“Can you promise me something?”

“Maybe.”

“Can you promise me that you won’t tell your dad about me?”

She grins and holds up her pinky for the pinky swear. “Promise.”

I grin and take her pinky in mine.

Who would’ve thought I was good with kids?