Let Him In (Let Him Trilogy) (15 page)

“Oh, he’s like, totally devastated.”

Kimberly’s comment made Lacey want to punch her in the face. “How the hell do you know that?”

“He totally had, like, tears in his eyes.”

“You saw him? When?”

“A few minutes ago,” Brooke answered, “when we were looking for you.”

“He’s here?” Lacey’s body stiffened, her heartbeat quickened and her eyes widened. “Now?” Her unblinking gaze darting around the parking lot before returning to Brooke. “Where?”

“In the cafeteria,” she replied, looking at Lacey like she’d just confessed to wearing white after Labor Day.

“Why would he be in there?”

“Like duh—it’s lunch time.”

Lacey narrowed her eyes at Kimberly and then snapped her gaze back to Brooke. “Why is he still here?”

Brooke glanced at Kimberly, who shrugged and then looked away with raised eyebrows. “Because school’s not over?”

“Aargh!” Lacey fisted her hands in her hair and yanked hard. “In five seconds you’re going to see what a real psycho bitch is like if you don’t start making sense!”

Brooke and Kimberly scuttled backwards, stopping only when The Brute’s Iroc-Z prevented further movement. Lacey blinked at the polished-to-a-sheen car and then from one blonde to the other. “You’re talking about Clark.”

“Duh,” Kimberly said, rolling her eyes.

“Who else would we be talking about?” asked Brooke.

“The guy Heather left Burger King with,” Lacey snapped, and then glared at Kimberly. “
Duh
.”

“Like they’re totally one and the same,” she said in a small voice.

Lacey frowned. “Heather told you that she left with Clark?”

“Not exactly.” Brooke shrugged. “We just sort of assumed she did because that’s who took her there.”

“Oh my God,” Kimberly gasped. “That slut, like, totally ditched Clark for another guy, didn’t she?”

No wonder he had peeled out of the parking lot with radio blaring and tires squealing, Lacey thought. “Was that picture Heather sent taken in California?”

Kimberly nodded.

“Then she had to have went by plane.”

“Wow,” Kimberly breathed, staring at Lacey in awe. “You’re, like, really smart—”

You obviously don’t know me, she thought, her father’s face flashing in her mind.

“—she totally caught a flight out, like, really late last night.”

Then Romeo had to have taken her to the airport.

Lacey wondered what that conversation had been like...

Hi, I’ll fuck your brains out if you give me a lift to Washington Dulles.

I accept your offer because I’m a typical male.

This must be my lucky day!

We’re both going to get lucky today, baby.

Lacey snorted.
I wonder if he offered her Devil’s Food cake, too.
“Just a friendly neighbor my ass,” she murmured.

“What was that?” said Brooke.

“Nothing,” Lacey grumbled, glancing at her Winnie the Pooh Bear watch. Hallelujah, lunch was almost over. “I have to go.”

“Awesome—we’ll totally come with!”

“No, you totally won’t,” Lacey bit out through clenched teeth.

Kimberly blinked at her. “Like, why not?”

Closing her eyes, Lacey took a deep breath. She slowly released it before looking at the blondes gazing expectantly at her. “I have a lot of shit going on right now and need to get my head straight, okay?”

Looking like she’d found out all of her credit cards had been canceled, Kimberly said, “You’re, like, totally breaking up with us, aren’t you?”

Jesus Christ.

“No, Kim,” Brooke said, placing a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “She just wants to be alone for a while—”

A long, long, while, Kim. Like, until I’m totally dead.

“—that’s all. To think and stuff.”

“Oh...for sure, we, like, totally get that.”

Lacey forced a smile. “Thanks for being so understanding.”

Kimberly’s face brightened. “No problem! And if you, like, totally need anything—”

“I will definitely let you know.”

“Awesome,” Kimberly said, doing her signature clap and bounce while Brooke nodded zealously.

“Okay, then...bye.” Lacey slowly backed away, waiting for the rattlesnakes to strike again. They didn’t, but she knew they would, which meant she had to find an anti-venom before they delivered their next painful bite.

“Hammer Fist.”

Bringing his left fist down hard in a hammering motion, Sammy struck the punching bag five times before performing the move with his right fist.

“Good. Now, Palm Heel. Alternate hands—right, left, right, left—until I tell you to stop.”

Sammy hit the bag with the base of his palms in an upwards thrusting strike twenty times before Zane said, “Horse Kick.”

With his back to the punching bag, Sammy brought his leg up, glancing over his shoulder as he struck out with his heel. “Crap!” he cried out as the turning motion threw him off balance and he pitched forward.

Zane caught him before he hit the ground. As he was set upright Sammy swept his gaze over his brother’s glistening upper body, entranced by the way the thick-corded muscles bunched with each and every movement. “You spun out,” Zane said, grinning. 

Sammy laughed as a bead of sweat trickled down his nose. Swiping the back of his hand across his wet forehead, he replied, “Hey, only thirty-three times.”

“Thirty-four now,” Zane corrected. 

Sammy humphed. With a laugh, Zane clapped him on the back. “You have made significant progress over the last few hours. I am proud of you.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” he replied, dismissing Zane’s compliment with a wave of his hand. “So what’s next?”

Zane’s eyebrows shot up. “Such eagerness.”

“I want that extra inch.”

“And you shall have it.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Zane studied Sammy’s bare upper torso for a few moments. “I do believe you have added at least half of that already.”

“Really?” Sammy flexed his arms, then frowned. “I can’t tell.”

“We are our own worst critics, Samuel.”

“I guess,” Sammy mumbled, giving his underarms a tentative sniff. “Do I stink? Oh wait—you can’t smell either. Duh. I bet I do stink. Bad. God, I hate not being able to smell anything but blood.” He laughed. “Makes me paranoid. Does it you?”

Zane gave him a strange look. “Ready for a drink?”

Sammy sobered instantly. “No, but since I don’t have a choice in that particular matter...”

Zane sighed. “The part that you feed—”

“Will be the part that thrives,” Sammy finished. “Yeah, I heard you the last five million times you told me. But I don’t want that part thriving. I don’t want to be a monster—”

“Like me?” Zane interrupted, cocking a brow.

Sammy looked down at his feet instead of answering.

“Do you know how I obtain most of my nourishment?”

“By snatching homeless people out of dumpsters and alleys?”

“Actually, I do that for you, Samuel.”

Sammy’s heart dropped into his stomach. “Yeah well I’ve never asked you to,” he mumbled.

“During activities of a sexual nature,” Zane continued as if Sammy hadn’t spoken.

“A fuck and suck...” Sammy snorted. “And then they’re out of luck.”

Zane’s lips pressed together for a second. “I feed, unnoticed, and then after having consumed the safest amount possible I simply move on to the next willing female.”

“Bullshit. You kill people. I know you do.”

“I have, yes, and likely will again. However, not—as you would apparently like to believe—because I relish taking lives. On a few rare occasions I have done so intentionally because I viewed the individual as a threat, but more often than not, it is because I failed to procure my daily requirement through the aforementioned method and subsequently lost control. Those unfortunate deaths were my fault because I did not do enough to prevent them.”

Sammy blinked at that. Zane looked and sounded sincere, but did he dare believe him? Could he really have been that wrong about his brother? He didn’t know, and in a way he couldn’t explain, was scared to. “So when was the last time you actually killed someone?”

Zane cleared his throat. “You are missing the point, Samuel. By denying yourself what you need you are essentially putting the very people you want to keep safe in danger. Sooner or later you will lose control and you will end up killing someone. How would you feel if that person ended up being a friend?”

“Not gonna happen.”

“You cannot be sure of that, Samuel.”

“Yeah I can ‘cause I don’t have any.”

Zane eyed him curiously. “Not even one?”

Sammy bowed his head, shook it.

“That will change, trust me.”

“Doubt it.”

“After only two and a half days of eating right and exercising you look like a completely different person.”

Sammy didn’t know whether that was true or not, but he did feel like a different person. One that was strong and fast and full of energy. He had to admit, at least to himself, that he liked it...and that scared him, too.

Zane came forward to place his gigantic hands on Sammy’s meager shoulders. “In spite of what you think, Samuel, you are a very handsome young man—you are a Nikolas, after all.”

“Oh shut up,” he murmured, stepping back and out of his brother’s grasp.

One corner of Zane’s full, pink mouth lifted. “If you continue to feed and workout, I will have to keep my women away from you or risk you stealing their affections.”

“Yeah right,” Sammy mumbled, glancing down at the long blades of grass between his toes. His feet looked like a girl’s compared to his brother’s. His gaze drifted up to the bulging crotch of Zane’s taekwondo pants. What they said about men with big feet was apparently true. Sammy looked down at his own crotch, and then sighed.

“That extra inch applies to every area of the body,” Zane said, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“Really?” Sammy blurted, his head snapping up. “I-I mean what the hell are you talking about?”

Dragging a hand down his glistening face, Zane laughed. “Nothing at all, little brother.” 

Achievement Unlocked:  Feigning Ignorance Fail.

Sammy pursed his lips. “I’m not that little.”

Cocking his head to one side, Zane dropped his gaze to the spot Sammy had been looking at only moments ago. “I would say slightly above average.”

Sammy slapped his hands over the crotch of his black sweats. “Stop eyeballing me!”

“And stop comparing yourself to me, for it is pointless.”

Sammy wanted to deny Zane’s accusation, but he knew that was pointless, too—his brother was a lie detector. Too bad it wasn’t a benefit of feeding regularly, because having that handy skill appealed to Sammy more than the acute senses and remarkable increase in strength, speed and endurance. But unlike what was depicted in movies, they couldn’t pick up and throw cars, outrun trains, fly or transform, which was a damn good thing for the humans their kind preyed upon—especially where his siblings were concerned.

“I will always be taller and bigger, Samuel,” Zane continued, “and nothing you do will ever change that. Therefore, you need to strive to become the very best that you can be.”

“Yeah, well, I’m trying.”

“No,” Zane corrected, “succeeding.” 

“That’s debatable.”

“If you think you are hideous, Samuel, then that is what the mirror will show you.”

But I am, Sammy thought but didn’t dare say, not wanting to revive that discussion. And what was the deal with Mr. Chatty all of a sudden anyway? Zane had never been a fan of conversation.

“I never realized how much you resemble him,” Zane said, stroking his chin as he studied Sammy’s face.

“Who?”

“I do not remember his name, only that he sparkles.”

Sammy’s mouth fell open with a horrified gasp. “Edward Cullen?!”

“For Blodbad’s sake, no.”

Sammy exhaled in relief. “Then who?”

“Spiky black hair, glittery make-up, was on one of those reality shows you like to watch. You have his CD.”

Sammy’s eyes widened. “No way,” he whispered.

“If you gained about fifteen pounds and continued to allow the hair on the sides of your head to grow out, you could be his doppleganger.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“I assure you that I am not.” Zane cocked a brow. “And neither are you anymore.”

“Ha ha ha.”  Sammy frowned. “You really think I look like him?”

“I do.”

Sammy shook his head in disbelief. “I love him,” he muttered.

Zane’s eyebrows shot up.

“His music—I love his music. That’s what I meant.”

“Glam rock,” Zane said, and then shuddered dramatically. “To each his own, I suppose.”