I shrugged, and a slight smile crossed his lips.
“Good. Let’s go get Sampson and I’ll explain the whole thing.” Again, Parker stretched out his hand to me, and this time, I pushed myself up on shaky legs and slid my hand into his.
“See?” Parker squeezed my hand. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
“No,” I said, my heart thumping in my throat. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” I tried to shrug nonchalantly, but it came out as more a spastic trembling.
I crouched down and picked up the meat loaf, and then found the fork sinking into the carpet. I slid it into my hand and followed Parker toward the door.
“You know how to get to Sampson’s place?’ he asked me.
“Uh-huh,” I said, gripping the fork in my palm. Angel or no, I was on the offensive.
Parker snaked my keys from the key hook and closed the door behind us. When he leaned down to lock the door I struck, plunging the tines of the fork as hard as I could through his pants, feeling the tough strain of the fabric and the smooth plunge as the tines dipped into the flesh of his thigh. He howled, throwing my keys and pushing me backward, both of his hands diving for the fork shoved in the tender inner flesh of his thigh. I crab-walked to snatch my keys and pushed myself up to my feet. I sprinted down the stairs, Parker’s screams and footfalls thumping behind me until I pushed through the front doors, gulping in lungs full of cold, night air.
My hands were trembling as I worked to push my key into the ignition of my rental car; I tore my eyes from the rearview mirror long enough to careen out of my parking space and onto the street. I remembered Parker’s and my first car ride together, and I was crying as I pushed the gas pedal to the floor now, ignoring the honks and screams of angry drivers as the tears and snot rolled down my chin.
The light turned red at the end of my street and I considered running it, but careened to a stop when the Fulton 5 bus groaned through the intersection, just inches from tearing off my rental car’s bumper. I was looking over my shoulder at the glass vestibule doors of my apartment building, hoping Parker wasn’t coming out, when I heard the pounding thump of fists on metal. My heart lurched, and when I looked out the front windshield, Lucy was there, her hands pressed into fists pounding, working the hood of my car.
“Sophie! Sophie, please let me in, you’ve got to help me!”
Lucy’s eyes were wide and terrified; her smoky black eye makeup was halfway down her cheeks, her tears leaving pink tracks in her white pancake makeup. “He’s going to get me!”
She screamed, and when she looked over her shoulder, I could see that her blouse was torn around the collar, and her neck and chest were covered with fresh blood.
I pushed open my car door and grabbed her by the wrist. “Get in!”
Lucy dove through the open driver’s side door and scrambled across my lap, panting, crying, trembling. “Close the door, close the door, close the door,” she was mumbling. I slammed the door, locked it, and hit the gas, hearing the squeal of my tires as we raced through the intersection.
“Lucy, what happened to you?”
Lucy had curled herself against the passenger side door, her bird legs pressed up against her chest, her arms cradling them. She was whimpering and shaking uncontrollably.
“It’s Vlad,” she said finally. “He’s gone crazy. He tried to bite me. Sophie, he thinks he’s a real vampire.”
I looked sideways at the terrified girl who looked like a tiny child curled up on the seat. “Lucy,” I started softly, “Vlad is a real vampire.”
She took the news better than I expected, staring blankly out the windshield. “Where are we going?” she asked finally.
“My boss’s house. I have to find him. I’d drop you off, but there’s no time. I think he’s in danger.”
“More vampires?” Lucy whispered.
I swallowed, my eyes on the road. “Worse.”
By that time I gathered my composure enough to maintain a nonlethal speed, but when I glanced down and noticed the line of fresh blood smeared on my steering wheel, I wanted to cry again. Instead I took a deep breath, resigning myself to be strong for Lucy.
“Is it bad?” I asked her.
She looked at me, blinked. “What?”
“Your neck. Is it bad, do you need to go to the hospital?”
Lucy shook her head, her long black hair dancing around her shoulder. “Uh-uh. He didn’t really bite me, bite me, just sort of nicked me.” She produced a Kleenex and dabbed gingerly at the blood.
“Even so, I need to call my roommate and warn her about Vlad—and Parker—and maybe we should call you an ambulance.”
I looked around for my purse and remembered it hanging on its little hook by the kitchen counter, my cell phone comfortably charging in its cradle. “Damn it! My cell phone is at home.”