Dating for Demons (8 page)
Authors: Serena Robar
Tags: #Vampires, #Fiction, #Horror, #Best friends, #Dating & Sex, #Horror & Ghost Stories, #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Love & Romance, #School & Education, #Friendship, #Dating (Social customs), #Fantasy & Magic, #Horror stories, #Education, #Family & Relationships, #Universities and colleges, #Demoniac possession, #Higher
“Oh, what did he used to do?” What kind of job leads you to spend your free time studying old languages? Was he an archaeologist or something?
“That would be a story for another time,” Hunter said confidently, annoying and thrilling me at the same time.
“What makes you think there’s going to be another time?” I scoffed. Two could play at this game.
“You need me,” he said simply.
Instead of immediately dousing his ego with a white-hot put-down guaranteed to make even the most confident of men cry like a little girl, I studied him.
Somewhere in that gorgeous, brooding noggin was the knowledge I needed to help Colby and the girls of Psi Phi. It was dangerous and probably foolhardy but the high risk was worth it if I solved the riddle. Colby was living on borrowed time and so was the world if that stupid Prophesy was to be believed. I
did
need Hunter. He was kind of my last hope. And it didn’t hurt that he was something to look at as well. I needed to be bold.
did
need Hunter. He was kind of my last hope. And it didn’t hurt that he was something to look at as well. I needed to be bold.
“Will you come somewhere with me? And not ask any questions and do exactly what I say?”
His look intensified, if that was even possible. “On one condition.”
God, there was always a condition, wasn’t there? I slowly nodded.
“I get to drive.” He pointed out the teahouse window to an illegally parked motorcycle.
We met again at Psi Phi House early Wednesday. If he had reservations about going someplace unknown at five in the morning, he kept it to himself. He was true to his word.
I’d never been on a motorcycle before. It was a thrilling experience. The engine vibrating beneath me while I held on tight to Hunter made my knees weak. I could get used to traveling that way. As long as I was with Hunter. He was in control and confident. He was totally comfortable with who he was and I was drawn to him.
Colby would say it was his bad-boy demeanor that turned me on, but it was more than that. I felt like we were connected somehow. It was weird; I couldn’t put my finger on it, but Hunter and I were cut from the same cloth.
It was still about an hour before daybreak; I could tell Hunter was surprised when we stopped at our destination.
“You wanted to take me to a lakeside house without asking any questions? Do you think the house doesn’t know it’s on the lake or something?” He was being sarcastic of course, but I wasn’t sure why. He seemed very disappointed. Did he think I was taking him on a bank heist or something?
I jumped off the back of his bike and returned the borrowed helmet. “Boy, you don’t like not knowing what’s coming next, do you?”
He unbuttoned his duster, took off his own helmet and replied, “You have no idea.”
“Follow me.” I walked quietly across the gravel driveway, to the side of the house. The basement door was the entrance directly into the library. Vampires usually entered the house through the front door. At least, that’s what Colby mentioned once.
“Piper?”
“Huh?” I kept looking around for signs of anyone moving around in the house.
“Why are you tiptoeing?”
I looked down and sure enough, I was on the toes of my canvas high-tops, trying not to make any noise. “I don’t like the sound gravel makes when you step on it.”
Mark that down as the lamest excuse, ever.
“Uh-huh.” Hunter looked at me like I was crazy. Which I surely was if I was taking him into a vampire library. I pushed that thought aside. We came to the door and I took out the card.
I waved it in front of the pad and the blinking light went from red to green. I pushed the door and it swung open easily. No blaring alarms or sirens announced our entrance. I let out a big sigh of relief.
Hunter gave me a questioning look so I said, “Sometimes the door sticks.”
Inside were rows of books, like any other library. I walked down the first aisle slowly, trying to get my bearings. I noted the checkout desk in the back of the room, with two doors behind it. Both were closed, and both had locks on the door-knobs.
“Where to now?” Hunter asked, making me jump.
“I’m not sure. Just keep your eyes open for more of the text I showed you. I think we might find something in the back room. Follow me.”
I led him to the back of the library, to the locked doors, and tried my key on one. The door swung open easily. Yay me! Inside were two copy machines, extra paper and office supplies. Clearly I’d found the supply room.
“Oops.” We backed out and I went to the other door. I used the key, but this time it didn’t turn. I tried again and it still didn’t turn. Now what?
“I think you need both the card and the key, like this,” Hunter took the card from my pocket and swiped the side of the lock, then tried turning the key and voilà, it opened.
“How’d you know to do that?”
“I’m not just another pretty face, you know,”
“Clearly,” I agreed and we entered the second room.
This room had a vault-like quality: several pages of text were framed behind glass that was wired to an alarm system of some kind.
“Over there.” I pointed out one particular frame that seemed familiar. Hunter investigated.
“You have that one already,” he concluded after looking it over.
“I do? But it looks like this has more text.” I pulled out the sheet of paper that held the Prophesy.
“This is an etching, see? This paper was actually put on the stone or wood where the original message was carved and then someone sketched over the paper to pick up the engraving.”
“Show me.” I peered over his shoulder.
He traced the symbols with his finger and I checked them against the paper in my hand. All the symbols matched. The only difference was the size of the document.
“So these are the exact same? There’re no symbols that have been transposed or copied incorrectly?” I gave him the paper to double check.
“No, everything looks the same.” He handed it back to me and my heart felt tighter. That just left a translation error. Part of me had hoped someone wrote down the original symbols incorrectly, which would have changed the meaning of the text, but it looked like the symbols were perfectly transcribed. Crap!
“You look like someone just ran over your cat.”
“I don’t have a cat, I’m a dog person,” I replied, not willing to comment on the meaning of his statement.
“Smart girl,” he replied but I didn’t ask what he meant; I was too bummed about our discovery.
Hunter walked around the room and stopped in front of another frame. He seemed frozen in place so I went to investigate his find.
It was an artful symbol, not like the others I was now familiar with. The sweeping shape wrapped around angular lines was very pretty and yet haunting at the same time. I flipped over my Prophesy page and quickly sketched the symbol.
“What is it, do you think?” I asked Hunter, who didn’t respond.
He’d gone very pale and I was worried he’d fall over where he stood. I reached up to steady him when he grabbed my wrist in a painful grasp.
“Is this some sort of joke?” he hissed at me, his color returning.
I looked at the wall and then at him in confusion. “What are you talking about? What does it say?”
He released me suddenly and backed out of the room. I rubbed my wrist, taking one last look at the picture that had so upset him. He obviously knew what it meant and I doubted he was going to share that knowledge with me. What could it possibly say and why would Hunter react so strongly to it?
I left the room, careful to see that it locked behind us. I checked my watch and realized we should probably wrap things up. I found Hunter two aisles down, reading the titles of books on the shelves.
“What kind of place is this?” he asked me, not bothering to turn around when he spoke.
“What do you mean?” I hedged. I couldn’t really tell him it was a vampire library but I should have thought the titles of the books here might give it away.
“This book is called
You Can’t Go Home Again: Rebuilding After the Change
.”
You Can’t Go Home Again: Rebuilding After the Change
.”
“Uh, clearly this book is about uh, menopause. Right, see. The change is going through menopause. Didn’t your mother or grandmother ever talk about the change to you?” I took the volume out of his hands and stuck it back on the shelf, babbling the whole time. “All my grandmother talked about was the change and how she suffered from hot flashes and mood swings. Never knowing when her period was going to arrive …”
Hunter was staring at me like I’d gone off the deep end. I shrugged. “It’s a real pain in the butt never knowing when you’re gonna start your monthly, you know. I can see why women going through the change would be cranky about that.”
I’d seen my mother use this tactic on my father many times and it always worked. Bring up feminine things to guys and they couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. I was glad to see Hunter was no exception to the rule.
“Are we done here?” he asked.
“Yes, I think we can go now.”
“What about the symbols you need?”
“I’m not totally out of options yet. I can check one more place.” I reached the door to leave and pushed on it without swiping the card. Simulated sun lights flooded the room, bright like the sun, and an alarm blared. Hunter threw his arm around me, using his duster to cover my head, and shoved us out the door with lightening speed.
We raced to his motorcycle and sprayed gravel in our haste to leave the driveway. Once we were safely on the road and it was obvious no one was chasing us, he slowed down. Both our hearts were racing and I hugged him tighter as he drove. That was a close one. I should be grateful that Hunter reacted so quickly to get us out of there, but I couldn’t help wondering if it wasn’t the first time he’d jumped on his bike and made a quick escape.
He drove us back to the House as the sun just started to peek over the horizon. He sort of dumped me off on the front lawn and shouted he’d call me, then rode off into the dawn. I guess I couldn’t blame him for getting away from me as fast as possible. I did almost get him killed, even if he only thought the biggest risk was getting arrested for breaking and entering.
I went into the House, pleasantly surprised by the quietness around me. Dawn was when good little vampire girls and boys were going to bed. Except half-bloods. They only possessed some vampire traits, so many of them kept the same hours now as they had when they were alive.
I hoped I could catch Ileana before she crawled into her coffin, or whatever she slept in, for the night. I took the stairs two by two. Though most of the girls at Psi Phi slept in the dorms in the secret basement, Ileana preferred to sleep upstairs with her personal human maid, Sophie.
I walked quietly down the hallway, carefully listening for any noise to indicate if someone were sleeping or out and about. I arrived at Ileana’s and pressed my ear to the door.
“For goodness’ sake, Piper, you walk like an elephant. Come in,” Ileana said from inside.
That’s what I get for trying to be quiet in a vampire house!
Sure, not everyone possessed super vampire hearing but you could bet at least one person did.
Sure, not everyone possessed super vampire hearing but you could bet at least one person did.
“Sorry to wake you,” I said as I entered, carefully checking the floor of the entryway for Sophie. The maid usually slept by the door or outside it to guard her charge. Ileana Romanav was a half-blood who’d managed to hide from persecution for more than one hundred years by masquerading as a new family member every generation. She’d pretended to be her great-great-grandmother, great-grandmother, grandmother, and mother, and now she was just Ileana. Thanks to Colby emancipating half-bloods, she was a free Undead. You’d think she would be a little grateful but Ileana was royalty, which might account for the attitude.
“Why are you skulking about the house at this hour?” Ileana asked, sitting pretty in her large canopy bed while Sophie brushed her gorgeous blonde curls.
“Oh, you know me. Skulking is what I do.” I looked around the room for the old journals her whacked-out father used to keep. She guessed my intention immediately.
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