Forgotten (22 page)

“Look behind my indigo nail varnish.”

“Are you sure you put it on here?”

“Of course I am sure. Jeez, I can’t believe how much of a jerk you are sometimes. If I don’t get away from you soon I’ll feel like punching you,” Emily said, getting off her bed and storming out of the bedroom.

Marcus looked to Jonathan. He shrugged. “What did I say?”

“Maybe you should look up the word
tact
in the dictionary,” Jonathan said, getting up from Suzanne’s bed and pushing by Marcus, hurrying to catch up with Emily.

Damn!
Marcus thought, annoyed.
I need to find Suzanne and that note!

Marcus sighed and, going over to the window, looked out into the fast approaching night. Narrow wisps of dark clouds shrouded the low-hanging moon, the horizon growing darker by the second.

Why didn’t I see all this coming?
Marcus thought.
My aunt is not going to like this, but there’s nothing I can do about it now! I just hope she doesn’t call another family meeting like the one I had to go to when Suzanne and Emily ran away once we arrived in New York.

Marcus grimaced at the memory then, giving himself a mental shake, turned from the open window and left the bedroom. He had a telephone call to make.

Still shaky and nauseous, Katrina reached out a trembling hand, gripped the side of the bath, slowly pulled herself up off the white tiles of the bathroom floor, unsteadily made her way into her bedroom, and sat down on the edge of her bed. She gripped her covers so tightly that her knuckles were white.

I wonder how long I was in the bathroom for?
Katrina thought, noticing that it was dark outside through her bedroom window. Turning her head stiffly toward her alarm clock, she peered at the glowing neon numbers. It was 10:13 p.m.

Katrina’s eyes widened.

Nearly three hours had passed since Jessica had left with Billy to go on their date.

Panic began to grip Katrina. Quickly, she hurried downstairs toward the front door. In the hall, the smell of blood from the kitchen made Katrina want to vomit, but, forcing herself toward it, she was shocked to find that the back door was wide open and that someone had taken the box and its contents with them; the only thing that remained was the bloodied card, which was underneath the kitchen table.

Going instead to the back door, Katrina peered cautiously outside, but was only greeted by the dark shapes of the Sinclairs’ yard furniture on their stone patio.

She swung the door shut. There, in the lock, was Jessica’s spare key, which was normally hidden beneath a small terracotta pot by the back door.

That’s how they got in … Could they still be here in the house?
Katrina thought, trying to listen for any strange noises. The only sound were the hushed noises from the television still running in the den.

Relieved that she was alone, Katrina quickly locked and bolted the back door, checking it twice, before taking a seat at the kitchen table to think.

I need to get out of this house
, Katrina realized. She leant down and retrieved the bloodied card. She read it once more before stuffing it into the back pocket of her jeans. These nasty notes and phone calls meant something and Katrina was determined to find out what.

Katrina stood up, moved to the kitchen phone, picked up a small notepad used for messages, and quickly wrote a note so Jessica or her foster parents wouldn’t worry about her absence. Sticking the note to the fridge with a magnet, she checked that Shelby was okay and then shut him securely back in the den before she headed for the front door.

Once outside, Katrina felt the cool September night’s breeze on her face. Then, without hesitation, she began to run down the driveway, and onto Ridgefield Drive.

She ran through the streets of Sycamore Heights, following no route or pattern, running aimless, her sneakers pounding to the beat of her heart against the asphalt beneath her.

Recognizing a familiar building, Katrina slowed down to a jog before coming to a complete stop on the sidewalk in front of it.

Her school. Sycamore Heights High.

Feeling slightly apprehensive, but strangely drawn toward to the building, Katrina walked up the steps at the front of the school and sat down on the top step before putting her face in her hands. In a release of emotions, she quietly sobbed.

“Katrina? Is that you?” a familiar girl’s voice asked.

Katrina looked up. She wiped the fresh tears away quickly and gave a weak smile. “Hi, Madison.”

“I thought it was you.” Madison sat down next to Katrina and wrapped her jacket tighter around herself. Noticing Katrina’s disheveled look she asked, “Are you okay?”

“Erm, yeah. I’ll be fine in a couple of minutes. It’s just been one of those days.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Katrina closed her eyes to try and compose herself. She took a couple of deep breaths and reopened her eyes. Madison was watching her expectantly.

“It’s nothing really. I just had a panic attack,” she said.

“Oh, Amy in the squad is like that. It’s kind of weird because she only has panic attacks before major football games. Basketball and wrestling she’s completely fine with. Even being in front of an audience of about ten thousand people when we got to the semi-finals of a cheerleading comp two years ago didn’t faze her.” Madison paused. “So don’t worry about it. Just blow into a paper bag or something.”

“Thanks, Madison.”

Madison frowned. “What for? I haven’t done anything.”

“You have. Just by talking to you has made me feel a little better.”

“No problem.”

“How bad do I look?”

“Well, your eyes are all puffy and your hair … wait, I have a mirror.” Madison stood up, fished a small round mirror from her back pocket, and started to pass it to Katrina but froze, dropping the mirror before Katrina had a firm grip on it. The mirror bounced down a couple of steps then shattered, spraying broken glass over the rest.

Madison’s features filled with horror. Katrina stood, reached out, and placed her hand on Madison’s arm. “Madison, I’m sorry, I’ll buy you another mirror.”

“Forget about the mirror.” She glanced around, eyes wide, and then looked back to Katrina. “It’s not safe here. There are people in Sycamore Heights that are evil.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Katrina, go home!” Madison cried, her brown eyes wide. Shrugging Katrina’s hand off her arm, she ran down the rest of the school’s steps, looked briefly over to a clump of bushes, and shivered before disappearing down the street without looking back.

I wonder what freaked Madison out so much?
Katrina thought, looking over at the clump of bushes that Madison had been scared of.
They’re just bushes! I can’t even see anything moving in them. And what did she mean when she said some of the people here are evil? Could the person who attacked me be one of these ‘evil’ people? Could that be the same person that is behind the notes and phone calls?

Looking up, Katrina noticed a dog watching her from across the street. Something about the dog seemed dangerously familiar.

Oh God!
Katrina thought,
I remember now where I’ve seen you before!

Katrina’s head started to reel. Unease flooded her. This was the same dog she had seen in front of the Sinclairs’ house two weeks before.

The dog stood up, stretched and then started to trot across the road, heading straight toward Katrina. As the animal neared her, Katrina realized that it wasn’t a dog at all, but instead a large wolf. Her eyes widened with fear and she felt her legs start to buckle as the wolf came ever closer.

Why can’t I run away? Come on, Katrina, move!
she thought, looking around desperately for a way to escape.

Feeling an overwhelming urge to get away, Katrina started back up the school steps, stumbling at the top. She let out a small yelp in surprise as her hands and knees scraped on the rough concrete, then, looking over her left shoulder, Katrina saw that the wolf was picking up speed.

She screamed, frantically scrambled back to her feet. and rushed toward the school’s glass paneled doors – but they were locked. She spun and backed up until she was against the door with no way to escape. Trapped.

The wolf emitted a low growl as it bounded up the school steps. Its eyes shone like burnt copper in the moonlight.

Once at the top of the steps, the wolf howled, a long mournful sound that chilled Katrina’s soul. When it stopped, it looked at Katrina and licked its lips, its teeth glistened with saliva.

I’m going to die!
Katrina thought, watching the wolf start to approach her again, its eyes still blazing with hunger.

Katrina closed her eyes, hoping that it was all just a bad dream, but when she opened them again the wolf was still in front of her, growling.

And then, from behind it, came movement. A glimmer of hope spread through her at the appearance of a figure in the shadows. Someone who could rescue her.

“Hello, Katrina,” came a voice, as its owner stepped from the shadows and placed a shadowy hand upon the wolf’s head.

Immediately the wolf stopped growling and sat down like a faithful pet.

Katrina’s heart hammered wildly as comprehension dawned on her.

“Anton,” she whispered into the night. The slow jigsaw of her memory started to slot back into place and another more frightening revelation dawned upon her as she turned her head away from the man she once knew and back toward the wolf. Somewhere, from the recesses of her fractured subconscious mind, she recalled something familiar. A sickly sweet scent - a perfume - permeated her senses and, with a feeling of trepidation, she realized where she recognized it from. This was the same perfume she had smelt just before the darkness had engulfed her all those months ago, which meant only one thing; she was staring straight into the wolfen eyes of her attacker and she had nowhere to run.

Feeling her knees buckle, she fell to the ground, unconscious.

Starr glanced at the unconscious body of Katrina laid on the backseat of Anton’s car, before turning her attention to Anton. He didn’t take his eyes from the road or look over at his front seat passenger, so she turned her head to the window. They passed by the entrance to the local cemetery and Starr absentmindedly rubbed her sore neck. She whirled the thoughts of her last visit there around in her mind. It had been less than two weeks ago …

“I never knew you were so good with your hands,” Starr sneered as someone approached, silhouetted by the moon’s light. She sat on a sturdy tombstone and swung her legs back and forth in a child-like manner.

“Perhaps I did go a little far, but it was my vampiric instincts. At least it made it look convincing. You played your part well.” Marcus leaned against a tree opposite her and wiped the dust from the graves he’d passed from his hands. “I see that you understood the message I gave you.”

“You mean the bit where you said ‘If you dare return you’ll find yourself eight feet under in the local cemetery’, yeah, I picked up on it. Real subtle. Luckily your pets are too gullible to know that their Master is betraying them, right in front of their eyes.”

“Unless you want me to break your neck like I wanted to earlier, I’d hold that tongue of yours, Starr!”

“You really should reign in your temper. It won’t be long until you snap in front of Blondie and her little friends, and then they’ll turn against you. Just like the rest of your family did.”

“Enough! My business is my own, just do what you’re told to do! It’s to your credit that you did such a good job of scaring Emily and Suzanne because it gives me a reason not to get rid of you right now. As planned, Suzanne is unraveling quickly. She’s at the point where she can’t focus enough to even transform on command now. She’ll come looking for you soon, be ready for her.”

“She is no match for me. Why do you seem so sure that she’ll come after me?”

“Emily and Suzanne might not always listen to me, but they do trust me implicitly. They don’t have reason to guard their thoughts, so I listen in. I know much more than they realize.”

“But Emily can read minds too, right? Can’t she just read your mind?”

“Emily and Suzanne are relatively young and inexperienced so they’ve yet to learn all there is to know about themselves. If Emily were to use telepathy – whether that be reading someone’s mind, using a direct link, or blocking someone from reading her thoughts – it would drain her of her energy. A powerful vampire would notice her in their mind as an intruder, but wouldn’t leave the same traces doing the same to her …”

“… and you’re a powerful vampire,” Starr finished his sentence, nodding her approval. She paused, “Would I notice if you read my thoughts?”

“Perhaps. Higher vampires, rogue werewolves, and elder werewolves are harder to read, and would require more concentration. Even Jonathan is difficult for me to read because, despite appearances, he is more capable than given credit for.”

“Don’t make me laugh! Him? He looks like a bumbling idiot!”