Always the Vampire

Not feeling quite the urgency Cosmil did, I took the time to rewrap my ponytail and then changed from my shorts outfit and sandals into a pair of cutoffs, a Florida Gators T-shirt, and sneakers. No socks. Maybe I’d head to the beach myself. Meditate on health affirmations while I listen to the ocean. Heck, maybe I’d stick around until sunrise and surf. I kept an extra bathing suit in my truck. If the storm still sat off shore, the waves might be worth catching.

I grabbed a beach towel, stuck my phone in my pocket with my driver’s license, and then wrestled my board out of the laundry room. The amulet still on the kitchen table winked in the light, so I snagged it, too. I locked the cottage but didn’t set the alarms. I remembered Neil’s warning about arming them if Saber and I would be coming and going half the night.

It was tricky to load my board in the SSR with any stealth, but I managed. Within ten minutes of talking with Saber, I cruised out of my neighborhood and down San Marcos, past the bay front and over the Bridge of Lions. I sang along to my favorite CD because it revved me and because, really, who can be stressed or scared when the Beach Boys are blasting through the speakers? I even had the bushy-bushy hairdo the lyrics touted. Brown, not blond, but still.

Triton’s place was soon in my sights. Faint light shone from the shop, but his apartment upstairs was dark. Great. He’d either run late getting to Cosmil’s, or he’d already left for the beach to shift. Back in the days that I’d gone with him, he’d insisted on being near the ocean between nine and midnight, no matter what the true astronomical time of the new moon.

It was just nine now.

Of course, Triton might be sleeping, in which case I’d bang on his door and chew him out.

I drove past his store and turned on the road that took me by the lighthouse. A few turns on backstreets would take me to the one that ran behind his property. I’d park in the drive, knock on the door, maybe peek in a window. Then I’d call Saber back with a clear conscience.

I maneuvered around two lights-flashing cop cars at the end of Triton’s block and crept on down the narrow road littered with storm debris. A few sizeable limbs were down, but only twigs and leaves covered Triton’s driveway. Nothing to scratch up my SSR.

As I exited the truck, the wind rose, caught my ponytail, and lashed strands across my face. Interesting. The air crackled with a different energy here than at home, and the scent of rain was heavier. Old storm going or new one coming? I looked up to search the sky, and a fat drop of water plopped dead center on my forehead.

I swiped it away and stomped up the stairs to Triton’s door. More twigs and leaves carpeted the deck, and what looked like muddy footprints clumped around the apartment’s entrance.

I sidestepped the mud and briskly knocked.

And the door flew open under my knuckles.

Nothing reached to jerk me inside, but my every muscle clenched in dread as soon as I smelled the stench of blood.





TEN




“Triton?” I whispered.

No answer.

“Triton?” I spoke louder to push the fear from my voice.

It didn’t work, but I gingerly crossed the threshold anyway. Between the streetlight filtering in the room from behind me and my trusty vampire vision, I took in the destruction.

Lamps broken. Couch cushions askew. Books and knickknacks scattered helter-skelter on the carpeted floor. Beyond that, a kitchen area that was similarly trashed. Guilt that I hadn’t hurried more threatened to flood me, but it didn’t look like five minutes would’ve made a difference. I didn’t have time for regrets anyway. I had to find Triton.

Then I spotted two legs sticking out from behind an armchair.

Crap and triple crap.

In a blink, I stared at Triton where he lay sprawled face up, one shoulder against the wall as if he’d slid down it. Blood oozed from a gash on his forehead and from his nose, and his lower lip looked split in the corner. Dark stains smeared his light-colored shirt and shorts, and one of his sneakers was untied.

“Triton,” I said as I shook his shoulder.

His eyelids fluttered open. “Cesca?”

“Who else? What the hell happened?”

“Bounced myself off the walls.”

“With help from what army? Here, let me help you up.”

I held out my hand. He grasped my forearm instead, grunting and gasping until I had him on his feet.

“Can’t go to the hospital, Cesca,” he panted as I tugged his arm over my shoulder to help him to the armchair. “Have to shift soon.”

“Duh. Where’s your first aid kit?”

“Heal when I shift. Don’t need first aid.”

“Yes, you damn well do,” I snapped, and released his weight.

He fell into the chair with a tortured, “Ugh, you had to drop me? Might have internal injuries.”

“I’ll drop-kick you around the block if you don’t listen. You can’t drive in this condition. You can’t be seen outside bleeding like you are, or some Good Samaritan may call the police. Two cop cars are down the street right now.”

“Heard the sirens. So did my workout buddies.”

“That’s what made them leave?”

He gave me a weak nod.

I didn’t ask if they might come back. “What did they want?”

“The amulets. Told them all I had were some nice doubloon medallions. In the shop. They started ripping up my stuff.”

“And then pounded on you?”