My Love Lies Bleeding
Page 18
“Focus,” I told myself sternly, locking our front door, double-checking it. I watched every bush and tree suspiciously on my way back to the safety of my car. The tires squealed, sending up clouds of dust as I sped out of there. The back of my neck didn’t relax completely until I’d reached the outskirts of town, with its candy-colored galleries and ice-cream parlors. The area was popular with artists, environmentalists, and homesteaders like my folks. There were few places with so much wilderness all around—dense forests and hidden waterfalls and even wolves, sometimes, singing on cold winter nights. The combination of the untamed countryside and the fact that everyone here was pretty private and accepting of alternative lifestyles made it a perfect place for vampires to live in undiscovered. At least I thought they were undiscovered. If not, no one talked about it. Folks here were far more likely to get heated over conspiracy theories and nuclear waste sites.
First, I stopped by the drugstore for nose plugs and I cleared them out entirely.
The cashier didn’t even blink. Then I went to the hardware store for hunting and camping supplies, which were big business in town. I felt a little silly, I admit, kind of like the comic book character I’d accused Kieran of emulating. But I was determined, too. If there was anything I’d learned from my parents, besides how to chop wood and prime the water pump, it was that you did what needed doing and you didn’t complain about it or pretend it wasn’t necessary. Afterward, I felt perfectly justified in rewarding myself with a double- shot cinnamon latte. And since my parents weren’t there, I didn’t even use soy milk. That was downright rebellious in our family. I nearly snorted— I was going back to a house where blood was sipped like a fine wine and vegetarianism wasn’t exactly an option. I’d already made Solange promise she wouldn’t drink any bunnies dry.
I was halfway back to my car when I felt the warning prickle. I swallowed, forced myself not to speed up or slow down, to keep my pace even and oblivious. There was a family eating hot dogs on a bench, someone else on a bicycle, two girls walking a tiny teacup Chihuahua. There was something else as well, that indescribable feeling of being watched, followed. I turned the corner, the green lawns of a park on my left, my car farther down on the right. No other pedestrians. The sun was making the sidewalk feel soft under my sandals. Almost definitely not a vampire then, it was too hot and bright.
There was the barest tremble from the hazel thicket. I wouldn’t have noticed it at all if I hadn’t been so paranoid about every single thing around me. Adrenaline shivered through me. I hoped I still looked like any other distracted girl, sipping my latte and juggling shopping bags. I waited until I was right next to the hazel before I chucked my latte and hollered, launching myself at whoever was skulking around back there. We went down in a tangle of flailing limbs and blistering curses. I saw black cargo pants, black nose plugs, black eyes. His code name was probably Shadow.
Kieran.
CHAPTER 7
Solange
I went out back to my little shed. The sun was soft on the clapboard siding and the kiln tucked into the back. I did need my sunglasses but at least I didn’t feel as tired as I had last night. I knew that when it came to me, my entire family went all overprotective and dramatic, so it was hard to know how many symptoms on their long list I could really expect.
I let myself into the studio and closed the door very deliberately. I wouldn’t think about it right now. It never helped anyway. What did help was burying my hands in clay and the rhythmic spinning of my pottery wheel. It was dusty and quiet in here, just how I liked it. The long window offered the distraction of the wild fields and forest when I needed them. My tools and chemicals were stored in plastic tubs; the walls were fitted with wooden shelves all but groaning under the weight of bowls and cups and oddly shaped vases. Lucy kept telling me I should take my stuff into the gallery shops by the lake to sell it. It wasn’t a bad idea. Though most of them did their business during the daylight hours, Lucy would make deliveries for me if I asked her to. It was something to think about.
If I survived my birthday, of course.
I scowled and attacked the clay. It was cool and obedient under my determined hands. I hated being frightened, almost as much as I hated being coddled. I worked until the sun was dipping slowly behind the trees. Geese flew overhead, honking. I wasn’t any closer to figuring out Kieran Black or the bounty or how to give in gracefully to the bloodchange, but at least I was calmer. And possibly hungry again. I wiped my hands clean and went outside, inhaling deeply the fragrance of roses and wild mint. I was thinking so hard I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings.
First mistake.
I might not have super hearing yet, but the arrow whistled so close to my head I could hear the air through the fletchings. It thunked into one of the oak trees, showering splinters. At the same time, someone crashed into me, curling around me like a particularly heavy parka.
“Oof! What—”
“Get down, you ijit!” It was Bruno. He only slipped back into his native Scottish accent when he was really pissed off . “Get in the damn house.” He ran me up the porch steps. I felt like the president of a small country under attack. All he needed was the ear transmitter and a pair of mirrored sunglasses. And a black suit— but I didn’t think he’d ever wear a tie, even for us. He looked just like what he was: an ex-biker with a shaved head to disguise the balding, and tattoos from shoulder to knuckle. He’d been working for us since before I was born. Bruno shoved me inside and slammed the door behind us.
First, I stopped by the drugstore for nose plugs and I cleared them out entirely.
The cashier didn’t even blink. Then I went to the hardware store for hunting and camping supplies, which were big business in town. I felt a little silly, I admit, kind of like the comic book character I’d accused Kieran of emulating. But I was determined, too. If there was anything I’d learned from my parents, besides how to chop wood and prime the water pump, it was that you did what needed doing and you didn’t complain about it or pretend it wasn’t necessary. Afterward, I felt perfectly justified in rewarding myself with a double- shot cinnamon latte. And since my parents weren’t there, I didn’t even use soy milk. That was downright rebellious in our family. I nearly snorted— I was going back to a house where blood was sipped like a fine wine and vegetarianism wasn’t exactly an option. I’d already made Solange promise she wouldn’t drink any bunnies dry.
I was halfway back to my car when I felt the warning prickle. I swallowed, forced myself not to speed up or slow down, to keep my pace even and oblivious. There was a family eating hot dogs on a bench, someone else on a bicycle, two girls walking a tiny teacup Chihuahua. There was something else as well, that indescribable feeling of being watched, followed. I turned the corner, the green lawns of a park on my left, my car farther down on the right. No other pedestrians. The sun was making the sidewalk feel soft under my sandals. Almost definitely not a vampire then, it was too hot and bright.
There was the barest tremble from the hazel thicket. I wouldn’t have noticed it at all if I hadn’t been so paranoid about every single thing around me. Adrenaline shivered through me. I hoped I still looked like any other distracted girl, sipping my latte and juggling shopping bags. I waited until I was right next to the hazel before I chucked my latte and hollered, launching myself at whoever was skulking around back there. We went down in a tangle of flailing limbs and blistering curses. I saw black cargo pants, black nose plugs, black eyes. His code name was probably Shadow.
Kieran.
CHAPTER 7
Solange
I went out back to my little shed. The sun was soft on the clapboard siding and the kiln tucked into the back. I did need my sunglasses but at least I didn’t feel as tired as I had last night. I knew that when it came to me, my entire family went all overprotective and dramatic, so it was hard to know how many symptoms on their long list I could really expect.
I let myself into the studio and closed the door very deliberately. I wouldn’t think about it right now. It never helped anyway. What did help was burying my hands in clay and the rhythmic spinning of my pottery wheel. It was dusty and quiet in here, just how I liked it. The long window offered the distraction of the wild fields and forest when I needed them. My tools and chemicals were stored in plastic tubs; the walls were fitted with wooden shelves all but groaning under the weight of bowls and cups and oddly shaped vases. Lucy kept telling me I should take my stuff into the gallery shops by the lake to sell it. It wasn’t a bad idea. Though most of them did their business during the daylight hours, Lucy would make deliveries for me if I asked her to. It was something to think about.
If I survived my birthday, of course.
I scowled and attacked the clay. It was cool and obedient under my determined hands. I hated being frightened, almost as much as I hated being coddled. I worked until the sun was dipping slowly behind the trees. Geese flew overhead, honking. I wasn’t any closer to figuring out Kieran Black or the bounty or how to give in gracefully to the bloodchange, but at least I was calmer. And possibly hungry again. I wiped my hands clean and went outside, inhaling deeply the fragrance of roses and wild mint. I was thinking so hard I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings.
First mistake.
I might not have super hearing yet, but the arrow whistled so close to my head I could hear the air through the fletchings. It thunked into one of the oak trees, showering splinters. At the same time, someone crashed into me, curling around me like a particularly heavy parka.
“Oof! What—”
“Get down, you ijit!” It was Bruno. He only slipped back into his native Scottish accent when he was really pissed off . “Get in the damn house.” He ran me up the porch steps. I felt like the president of a small country under attack. All he needed was the ear transmitter and a pair of mirrored sunglasses. And a black suit— but I didn’t think he’d ever wear a tie, even for us. He looked just like what he was: an ex-biker with a shaved head to disguise the balding, and tattoos from shoulder to knuckle. He’d been working for us since before I was born. Bruno shoved me inside and slammed the door behind us.
