Chapter 14

Chapter

Fourteen

I eat a slice of loaded vegetable pizza because it's expected. Diana is back to mimicking my movements and taking bites in time with mine, only she has pepperoni. She even chews and swallows with me. For some reason, she reminds me of a chatty baby duckling that imprinted on me. It is equal parts adorable and sad. I feel as if I've crawled out of my family's grief bubble into theirs.

I'm thankful for the warm clothes we picked up at that discount store. The t-shirt, yoga pants, and matching jacket provide more protection and comfort than my exercise shorts. Diana also wanted yoga pants and a jacket; only hers came in baby blue to my navy, and they have butterflies embroidered on them. I find the coincidence of the butterflies strange as if the universe is reminding me of how vulnerable Diana is to the dangers of the world.

Paul appears from his shower in cargo pants. I assume he bought them because he thought he could use them for work when he gets back to the city, but they hardly seem like comfortable pajamas. I can't help but wonder if he's planning a quick getaway.

He still wears that dancing cartoon turtle. No, correction: he wears a dry, clean turtle shirt. I'm guessing it's the one he bought for me at the gas station. Apparently, they were one size fits all.

Diana took a shower after me, insisting she also needed to clean up before we ate. Now, the pizza is barely warm. I thought it might be polite to wait for Paul to join us, but Diana had no such qualms.

We picnic on the bed. There's no couch or table, just a nightstand and a random chair. The mattress is lumpy, and the sheets scratch as if their thread count is two. The front desk gave us a portable cot as a second bed with some blankets and an extra pillow.

The curtains barely do their job as flashes of light come through the frayed floral material. Olive green and harvest gold date the décor. In a strange paradox, someone had taken care to clean the place. There isn't any dust, and the worn carpet has the marks of a vacuum. Still, the wallpaper peels at the seams and emanates with the scent of decay and age. The cracked vinyl chair has a cigarette burn along the edge.

Paul stares at the worst places in the room as if guilt is eating him for his rash decision to bring us here. It was the only motel at the exit he took. A few times, he starts to apologize and then stops himself. He looks exhausted—not just from the long drive but completely mentally drained.

Diana doesn't seem affected by our surroundings as she focuses more on copying me. I envy her innocence and sense of adventure. Still, an air of sadness peeks through. I wonder if she's trying to be strong for her dad. I also wonder how it would've felt to lose Astrid at her age. For all my mother's flaws, I still loved the woman.

I find it odd that people talk in the past tense when someone dies. We say I loved, not love. Death didn't change my feelings. Finding out Astrid wasn't related to me by blood didn't make her any less the woman who raised me—it explained a lot, but it didn't change how I feel. My emotions when it comes to my parents are just as complicated as ever.

Ugh, I want to stop thinking about this.

Night creeps over the motel like a looming threat. It darkens the stormy window through the crack in the thin curtains. With each passing second, a sick feeling settles deeper into my body.

When I glance in his direction, Paul tries to smile at me, but I feel alone. The protection of my last name no longer holds. An empire ruled by two humans will not subdue supernatural creatures. Conrad and I will never be able to hold on to all that power. I'm not sure I even want it, but I can't abandon my brother.

I touch the amulet. The hard edges are as familiar to my fingers as my own skin, but the stone no longer holds the illusion of comfort. It can no more protect me than my flesh and bone.

I fear the end is coming for us. The thought terrifies me. I don't want to die. Not here in this motel that time forgot.

Still, I try to hold on to hope. Hope that they don't know we're here. Hope that the vampires won't come. Hope that we'll all see the morning.

I cross to the window and lean to peer outside through the opening in the curtains. I hear the duckling behind me. A small hand fits into mine. Lightning flashes, illuminating the parking lot. Anthony would have joked that the gods were partying hard tonight.

"Don't be scared of the storm," Diana says. "It can't hurt us."

I should be reassuring her, not the other way around.

"Di, why don't you see what's on TV?" Paul suggests. "Find us something to watch."

I stare at the parking lot for signs of trouble. I feel a chill coming off the glass. Goosebumps rise over my flesh as if to warn me. On the other side of the motel, I detect the tiny glow of fire from a lighter brightening under the overhang before disappearing. It's not often I notice cigarettes. Most people seem to prefer vape pens. Or maybe it's the flame reminding me of the danger that makes it so noticeable now.

I recall the sound of Darlene's spark wheel seconds before the apartment explosion.

Paul and Diana move around behind me as they flip through channels on the television. I pull the curtain in an attempt to keep myself hidden as I peek out to get a better look. A flash of lightning reveals the shadow of a man smoking, and the sound of thunder follows seconds later. I don't think the smoker is a vampire, but I watch him anyway. He could be enthralled to one. He could be watching the room. Or he could be a motel guest with a nasty habit.

I feel hypervigilant. That's the word, right? I heard it on one of those catch-the-serial-killer shows.

My heart beats too fast. I hear a thump through the walls. I wonder who's next to us. The motel is old. I bet a vampire could crash through the thin walls. Or a werewolf. What if they send a shifter?

I try to keep my paranoia in check, but the real fear is in what I can't see and what I don't know.

"Tamara, watch a movie with us." Diana's voice is more of a demand than a request.

I lean over, trying to see if the moon is full. The storm hides it from me.

"Hey." Paul's voice is gentle. He's right behind me, and I startle.

His hand slides over mine on the curtain. He's warm to my cold. I realize I'm shaking.

"I know this room is not what you're used to," he says. "But it's warm. It's dry. There's a bed."

Great. He thinks I'm a spoiled brat.

"The room is a room," I answer, refraining from adding that he couldn't have found a better stage for a bloodbath. "It's fine."

"Then you're scared of the storm?" He pulls my hand off the curtain and continues to hold it.

"I told you what I'm afraid of," I whisper.

Another thump sounds from the room next to us. We both turn in unison toward the noise. His grasp tightens enough that I notice but not enough to hurt me. He's trying to look relaxed, but he's on edge. His lips press together.

I don't recognize the movie Diana is watching, but it's full of silly noises. They're out of place in the current situation, but she giggles, not caring. She rests on her stomach, lightly kicking her feet against the bed.

"There's nothing we can do tonight," Paul whispers, as if he is nearing the end of some internal debate.

Every instinct inside of me prickles. I'm terrified of what's coming. I want to stop time. If only I had the magic to make that happen.

I turn back to the window. The smoker is gone.

The storm rages on. I stare into the night, waiting for a flash to illuminate our surroundings. Lightning strobes over the landscape, and I see a blur move across the parking lot. It's fleeting and impossible to tell what caused it or if it was even real. I rub my eyes and keep staring into the shadows.

"Tamara, come take your mind off things." Paul urges me to join them on the bed where they watch TV. I close the curtains to block people from looking in, but I'm not sure the thin material will do the job.

The pizza boxes are closed at the end of the bed. Diana stays on her stomach, watching and laughing. Paul lounges against the headboard and motions for me to sit beside him. I crawl into the domestic scene reluctantly.

I stare forward, but I don't see the show. Instead, I see the various ways we could all die. I imagine how the police might find our bodies—strewn over furniture, right here where we lay, chopped up in the tub. Or perhaps they'd only find Paul's car in the parking lot, and we become an unsolved mystery.

What if our ghosts get trapped here for eternity? Then Paul, Diana, and I end up haunting this sad room in this rundown motel, seeing things that no person should see.

I can't get the thoughts out of my head.

"Hey, hey, easy," Paul soothes. He runs his hand down my arm to where I'm gripping the edge of the pillow with a tight fist. He tries to pry my fingers open while whispering, "Breathe. I promise everything is going to be all right."

There's a big part of me that wants desperately to believe him. I see the certainty in his eyes. I feel the gentleness in his touch. He is so confident of his place in this world.

I mimic his breathing, slow and steady, trying to calm myself. The knot in my chest grows tighter. I want to shake him, yell that he should be panicked, and that monsters are out there in the night hunting us.

Another flash causes my attention to move toward the window. I gasp to see the outline of a colossal figure on the other side of the thin glass. My pulse races.

"Paul." I grip his hand in warning. "The window."

Another bolt of lightning strikes and the shadow is gone.

"I don't see anything," he says.

I watch the curtain, unsure if it's just my imagination and fear.

Paul reaches his arm around my shoulders and pulls me against him. I lean into the solid warmth of his embrace. "You're shaking. Try to relax. I promise everything is going to be all right. I know you're probably not used to places like this, but it's just an old building. There's nothing to fear."

A loud bang sounds on the wall as if to debate him. Diana instantly pushes up from her spot to sit on the bed. Her rounded eyes turn to look at us. The sound of loud laughter follows.

"Noisy neighbors," Paul tells her.

Diana nods but remains seated as she turns back to the television. Her posture is stiffer than before.

"We should try to rest. The night will go faster if we're sleeping," Paul suggests.

I don't think I could sleep if I wanted to.

"You two can have the bed. I'll take the cot," Paul says.

I don't want him to leave my side. "No, I?—"

Another loud thud comes through the wall.

Paul frowns and reaches over his head. He pounds his fist against the wall to tell the other room to keep it down.

The warning sparks inappropriately loud laughter on the other side. His frown deepens.

"Oh, you better watch out, Billy!" a woman's muffled voice teases.

"Bring it, asshole!" a man screams.

"Dad?" Diana asks, worried.

"Just ignore them," Paul answers. "Remember that guy at the neighborhood potluck?"

"Mr. Thompson, who drank too much beer and began yelling at a stop sign?" Diana giggles.

"Yeah, sometimes adults who drink too much act stupid," Paul says. "We need to stay away from them."

Another thud sounded.

"Drunk people are stupid," Diana states with a nod. She slides off the bed and lifts her arm as if to pound on the wall.

Paul leans over to catch her fist. "We should leave them alone."

"But you did it," Diana pouts.

"I shouldn't have," he says.

I slide off the bed and cross toward the window to check outside. It's a compulsion I can't control. My hand shakes as I pull back to peek through the curtains.

"Tamara?" Diana asks. "Is something out there?"

I glance back to find her concerned eyes staring at me for reassurance. I smile, trying to appear brave for her. I know the expression is wavering. I tilt my head and manage a soft, unconvincing, "No."

A scream pierces the night, and I spin around to look outside. It sounds like it comes from the far side of the motel. I focus on where the smoker had been standing. Lights flicker inside his room as if someone is swinging a lamp back and forth.

Suddenly, Paul is beside me. "What was that?"

I point toward the smoker's room. It goes dark.

"Dad?" Diana asks, her little voice quivering.

"It's all right, honey," Paul soothes, but his tone is not believable. He touches my elbow. "We'll be safe in here."

I refrain from pointing out that his ability for denial is unrivaled. Merely stating something out loud does not will it into existence.

Well, unless you have magic and are casting a spell.

Paul takes a deep breath and starts toward the door. "I should check?—"

"No!" I deny him exit, pushing in front of him. "Don't go out there."

"Someone might need help," he insists.

Did he not get the memo? We're New Yorkers. We stay out of everyone else's business.

"Call the front desk. It's their job to handle guests." I don't want him to leave us alone, and I sure as hell don't want him hanging himself out as bait. Let creepy taxidermy man deal with it.

"It'll only take a minute," he answers. "I'll just walk down there and see what I see."

I don't move as I mouth the word, "Diana."

It's the only thing that will keep him here.

It works. He nods. "I'll call the desk."

The room doesn't have a landline. Instead, a piece of paper laminated to an end table has the front desk's number on it. Paul reaches for his cell phone and calls.

I watch the other end of the motel intently, scared I'll miss something important if I blink. A prominent figure emerges from the smoker's room. It's too big to be the smoker and too fast and twitchy to be a human. If I had to guess by the terrifying build, he's male in form. The creature goes to the next room as if searching for his victim. Even though his inhuman strength could easily smash through the door, he knocks before violently pushing his way inside when the door cracks open.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Vampire.

They've come.

Heavy metal music starts playing next door. The steady thump of the dense beat makes it difficult to hear what's happening outside. A raw, aggressive voice projects over the music as the singer hungers for blood and boasts of living for an eternity. Fuck me if the tune is not appropriate for a vampire attack. The universe certainly has a morbid sense of humor.

"Dad, I don't like it here," Diana whines.

I can't say I disagree with her.

"They're not picking up," Paul says in frustration, glaring at his phone as if that can change the outcome of the unanswered call.

Run or hide? Run or hide? The thought ping-pongs in my head.

A man cries out. I see him trying to run out the opened door before being forced back inside the room. His arms and legs trail behind him as he is lifted into the air. He doesn't stand a chance. The lights go out.

"We have to run." My tone makes it clear it's not a suggestion.

Paul hesitates as if trying to process the right thing to do.

"Now, Paul!" I order.

"Yeah, yeah." He nods. "Uh, Diana, grab your bags."

I want to yell, fuck the bags!

My focus is on the second room's door. I see the curtains from other guests swish open, but no one leaves their rooms to help. I can't judge them for it. I'm not exactly ready to charge into battle against the undead.

The rain isn't letting up. I scan the parking lot for other movement. It looks like the vampire is hunting alone. Figures. They wouldn't send an army after a simple mortal.

The metal soundtrack isn't helping as the singer screams at us to feed him with our blood.

Movement catches my eye. Never mind. I was wrong. The vampire is not alone. There is a second figure crouching on the roof. The first vampire moves across the motel extraordinarily fast.

Just perfect. Two vampires are hunting us.

"Keys, keys…" Paul is mumbling to himself. I hear them moving behind me.

"Dad. Here."

"Ready?" Paul appears next to me, holding my shoes for me to take. His arms are loaded with our bags, and he's wearing my backpack.

Instead of taking the shoes, I reach into a bag for a plastic jar of minced garlic. I untwist the lid and pull off the safety seal.

"Really?" he questions in frustration.

I ignore his tone. I reach my arm out to stop them from leaving as I watch the roof. "Wait. Not yet. Wait…"

My heart is pounding, and I can't catch my breath.

Paul leans to see what I'm looking at. "I don't…"

The vampire comes out of the second room and goes for the third. The second one jumps down to the sidewalk to join him.

"What are they doing?" he asks, his words barely above a breath.

I'm not going to answer that. The look dawning on his face says he already suspects.

"Stay close, sweetheart," I whisper to Diana. I hug the jar to my chest with my arm. "We're going to go straight to the car."

The vampires break through the third door. A bloodcurdling shriek soon follows.

"Unlock the car, Paul," I tell him.

He lifts the hand with his keys while adjusting the bags hanging from his arms. I see lights flash on his SUV.

"Go. Now!" I dart for the door and fumble with the lock to open it. My shaking hands lack my usual coordination.

I grab Diana's hand and glance down the sidewalk before dashing toward the car. My arm doesn't come with me as Diana stops on the sidewalk under the awning. I grunt in frustration as I turn and sweep her under my arm to make her run with me. Debris in the parking lot stings the bottom of my feet as I splash through puddles, but I don't care. We weave through the cars.

Diana yelps and trips, causing us to stumble. Paul crashes against my back. One of the bags swings into my elbow, and I drop the jar. I manage to stay on my feet somehow, but I'm bent over and off balance.

A growling noise pierces the night. Diana wriggles against me as I try to right myself.

"Dad?" she cries out in fear.

A blur of movement precedes a loud splash as boots land close by in the water. Shaking, I turn to see the hulking shadow now in front of us. The rain encases all of us but doesn't seem to bother him as it pelts his leather coat. Lightning chooses that moment to flash, giving us a clearer picture of the threat. The vampire stands tall and imposing, his burly frame even scarier up close.

Wet hair hangs in strings. He holds his hands at his sides, the long fingernails shaped like pointed claws. He makes a show of sniffing the air. His skin is rosy as if he's fed, but the low growl rumbling from his throat and the piercing determination in his eyes say he's not yet full. Hunger and anticipation fill his monstrous expression. I've seen that look of malice before when I'd snuck out to watch my parents' party guests.

The creature looks at me. His words come in a slight hiss as he says, "Someone wants to see you, blood sack."

Diana's breathing catches as she starts to cry.

"Get to the car." Paul tries to push us behind him. The bags drop off his arms. Then louder, he states, "Listen, buddy, we don't want any trouble."

The vampire doesn't move. He's enjoying watching us squirm. A slow smile cracks his face, and he exposes the tips of sharp fangs. The sound of breaking wood cracks the night as his friend crashes into the next motel room.

"Paul, get Diana to safety. Don't look back." I slowly reach for the jar as I keep my eyes on the vampire. Some of the minced garlic has spilled into a puddle. "They're not here for you."

"Dammit, Tama—" Paul tries to protest, but the creature surges forward with a gurgling snarl.

Paul lifts his fists to fight. Diana screams. He takes a swing, making contact with the vampire's jaw with a loud thwack. Despite the strength behind the blow, the punch barely moves the creature's head.

I grab the jar and inelegantly chuck the contents toward the vampire before Paul can swing a second time. A strange bluish light flashes around us. The wet plastic slips out of my hand, and the jar strikes the vampire in the chin. The creature howls in pain and recoils, swiping at his face.

"Run!" Paul yells as the vampire is distracted. He picks Diana up and pushes me toward the car.

I crash into the passenger door as Paul darts around to the other side. Diana is sobbing, her raspy breath unable to catch as she gasps for air. I turn to look behind us, leaning against the metal frame as my fingers blindly search for the handle. Light shines behind me as Paul opens the car door.

I feel the vehicle rock with the force of his movements.

"Tamara," Paul yells in a panic.

The rain is relentless as it obscures the thrashing, howling monster. He charges angrily toward us.

My hands find the handle, and I fall more than step into the car. The engine roars to life. I kick my feet to push into the seat. The car starts to move before I have the door closed. Paul backs up. He hits the brakes, and my door slams shut at the abrupt stop. Paul puts the SUV into drive.

My attention is on our attacker when a loud crash reverberates from the roof. Diana screams behind me.

"Stay down, baby!" Paul yells.

The second vampire slides down the front of the windshield, grinning as if this is all a game. The sharp fangs are unmistakable, and his eyes glow with a supernatural light. His body turns on the glass as he hooks his fingers onto the top edge of the hood. Rain has diluted the bloodstains on his white shirt into a soft pink, but the splatter is unmistakable.

Paul slams on the gas before hitting the brakes hard a second later. The creature slides off just as our first attacker reaches my door. Paul hits the gas again. Our tires should have thumped over the vampire's body, but the road is smooth.

Diana continues to whimper. I turn to watch behind us. One of the vampires gives chase, but the car is faster. He fades into the distance.

"Hold on," Paul warns.

Diana is on the floor behind his chair, her body folded over into a ball. My backpack is on the seat.

The tires squeal as the car takes a series of turns. The movement tosses me back and forth. We slide in the rain, but Paul quickly regains control of the vehicle. The backpack slides toward Diana's head. I lean between the front seats to grab hold of it, shoving it onto the floor behind me.

Diana's stuttering crying is only outdone by the harshness of my breath. My heart is pounding so hard that I think I might be having a heart attack.

"Diana, it's okay, baby. We're all right. It's all over now." Paul grips the wheel as we speed onto the interstate. "We're okay."

We're all drenched, and the cold is becoming noticeably uncomfortable. I step on the toes of my socks to pull them off my feet.

Paul reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone. His hand trembles as he taps his thumb against the screen.

"What are you doing?" I ask, leaning my head against the window to search the sky for signs that they're flying after us.

"We left them. There are so many," he mumbles, holding the phone to his ear. "Oh, thank god you're there. You need to call the police. Two tweakers are breaking into rooms and attacking your guests. They're… They're like fucked up on something. PCP or something. Yeah, yeah, okay. I?—"

Paul pulls his phone away to look at the screen.

"They hung up," he says. "But they said the police are coming. So, we're good. We don't have to…"

Paul nods his head, the gesture agitated. He grips the wheel with one hand as he flexes the fingers on the other. His knuckles are red from where he punched the vampire.

Our speed is a little fast, and I touch his arm. "Slow down. We don't want to crash."

He obeys. I watch the speedometer drop.

"Dad?" Diana's voice is tiny.

I crawl into the backseat. "Come up here with me, sweetheart."

She's trembling as she moves onto my lap. "Where's Plop? I want Plop."

"Shit," Paul swears under his breath.

"Are you hurt?" I ask her.

Diana shakes her head.

"Is she hurt?" Paul glances back before moving to watch the road.

"No," I answer, even as I see a scratch on her arm. "She's a brave girl."

"Where's Plop?" she asks louder.

I look around but only see my backpack.

"I'm sorry, honey, I think Plop…" Paul makes a sound of frustration.

"I think he went on an adventure," I finish. "I'm sure he's happy wherever he is."

Diana cries harder. "You mean he's in heaven like my mommy? I'll never see him again."

I have no clue what the correct answer is, so I go for distraction.

"How about we get you into a dry shirt?" I reach for the bag even as she clings to me. "Do you want to wear my clothes?

Diana tries to nod, but the movement is small.

"Tamara?" She sounds so traumatized and shaken.

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm here." I give her a slight squeeze.

"Drunk people are stupid."