Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

"Tamara."

I resist the call of my name, wanting to stay inside the darkness of sleep.

"Hey, Tamara, wake up."

Someone taps my shoulder. I startle and blink rapidly until I finally realize it's Paul. He's no longer driving. One second ago, I was staring at the taillights of the car ahead of us, and then… I don't remember going to sleep.

"Where are we?" I suppress a yawn and stretch.

"Shh." Paul motions to the back seat. If his eyes are any indication, he's clearly exhausted.

Diana is still sleeping. We're in the parking lot of a gas station next to an open field. We've made it out of the city.

He keeps his voice soft. "Near Pittsburgh. There's a hotel across the street. I figured we'd stop for the night and make a plan in the morning."

The plan is to drive. I don't want to stop, but I don't say as much out loud. It's unreasonable to expect them to spend the night in the car.

"I'm going to get snacks. Any requests?"

I shake my head in denial.

"I'll be right back." He starts to get out of the car and then stops. "I think someone was texting your phone."

He leaves me alone in the car with his daughter. I check on Diana in the back seat. Her neck bends to the side at a dramatic angle that makes my muscles ache just looking at it, and her limbs sprawl in what must be an uncomfortable position. It seems odd that Paul would trust me to watch her, even if it's only for a brief time in the car. If he knew how little experience I have with kids, he might change his mind.

I dig my phone out of the backpack and get out of the car to stretch my legs. It's nighttime. Streetlights illuminate the area, but I can still see stars. I hear cars from the nearby interstate zipping past.

I search for signs of trouble. A tattooed man in leather fuels his motorcycle next to a schoolmarm type in a sedan. The biker seems harmless enough, but the woman looks like she wants to eat him for dinner…and not in a fun way. It's always the benign-looking ones we need to watch out for. Danger loves hiding under the fa?ade of innocence.

Face recognition unlocks my phone. My parents put all of our devices on what they called a supernatural protection plan to keep them from being hacked or tracked, prompted by all those naughty celebrity cell phone photos being leaked online. Apparently, they were less worried about finding me via my GPS than me doing something to cause them public embarrassment.

For the record, no, I do not make sex videos with my phone.

I see Paul through the gas station window. Though, I could be tempted to…

Just saying.

Paul watches us intently. I guess he doesn't trust me as much as I thought. I lift my hand toward him in acknowledgment. A blurred version of my reflection mimics me in the glass. It's warped and faded, making me feel like I'm slowly disintegrating into the surrounding landscape. My scorched funeral dress and sneakers have a sad Miss Havisham decaying vibe to them. Only, instead of a wedding day that never happened, I'm eternally dressed for my funeral that didn't come—locked in a place where time no longer makes sense.

It should have been me who died in that fire. Not my family.

As diverting as it may be to compare myself to an iconic madwoman in a Dickens novel, this gas station is no manor house in Great Expectations.

Checking the phone, I see I have several missed messages from Conrad.

"What the hell happened? There are fire trucks."

"Where are you?"

"Answer me."

"Tam?"

"Tamara?"

"We need to talk."

"Tell me you're alive."

"Call."

I dial Conrad. Paul is still making his way through an aisle, pausing to look at the SUV every few steps.

"Tamara?" Conrad's hushed voice answers.

"I'm okay," I tell him.

"Hold on." The garbled sound of movement comes through the phone. When he finally returns to the call, he says, "Are you still there?"

"I'm here." I lean against the SUV's hood and watch an old van pull up beside the motorcycle at the fuel pumps. Smoke drifts from the cracked windows. I stare at it. My heart begins to beat faster, and I feel sick to my stomach.

"Tamara, are you listening? Where is there?" Conrad demands.

The insistence in his voice brings me back to the conversation. I take a shaky breath. "I'm not sure."

He sighs loudly, and I know he doesn't like my answer.

"I went to pick you up. Police and firefighters were everywhere." Conrad sounds confused, and I can't blame him. "They're saying a woman who looks like you was seen fleeing the scene with some guy and a kid. What the hell is going on? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything." Anxiety unravels inside me, spreading throughout my entire being and taking hold of me in its vice-like grip. "I'm innocent. You must believe me, Conrad. I didn't start any fires. I didn't hurt anyone. It was an accident. I smelled gas, and then that woman lit a cigarette and?—"

"I know," he cuts me off. "I believe you. You're not a murderer."

My body contorts, the frustration evident in my clenched fist.

"Of course, I know you didn't do it." His tone softens. "You're my sister. I never thought you did. I'm just worried."

I exhale and then draw a deep breath. Hearing him say it is a relief. It gives me a sense of comfort. He is the only member of my family left. Well, not counting the mysterious birth mother I have yet to find. I hardly think she counts.

A man gets out of the van and slams the door. I jump at the loud sound. He stops to talk to the biker, and the woman in the sedan snarls. Her mouth quickly snaps open and shut. My instincts were right. She's not human, and she's hunting.

"Did everyone make it out okay?" I bite my lip to keep it from quivering and try not to draw attention to myself.

"No. They're still searching the debris. Six so far." Trust Conrad not to sugarcoat things.

"Who was that woman in the apartment?" I ask. Paul is standing in line at the register, watching me. I lift my hand to indicate we're all right. "Why did you send me there? I could have just gone anywhere and waited for you to call?—"

"Tam, listen," he cuts me off. "I can't talk long. I'm here with the lawyers. They're waiting for me in the other room. It's worse than we thought. The police claim they have solid evidence that you had something to do with the birthday fire. We're trying to determine what that evidence is, but it will take time to grease the right palms. The detective on the case is a real hardass."

I shake my head, even though he can't see me. I want to scream, but I'm really scared. Like really scared. "They can't have any because it's not true."

"You know the truth doesn't matter, only perception—optics, sis," Conrad says, sounding like a jerk. "The lawyers are on it. Just don't get arrested in the meantime. You cannot go into custody."

"I know. I don't want to be in the system." I hear a car engine, and I glance to see the schoolmarm driving away.

"I don't care about the system. Fuck the system," Conrad says. I wish he had come on this trip with me. I draw comfort from the surety in his familiar voice. "Human legal problems are human problems. We have bigger ones. Word's gotten out in the supernatural world that you're to blame. They're pissed. A paramedic told the vampires you were covered in death ash when they found you."

I flex my hand, remembering Stacy's bite.

"They know you were with Costin when he died," Conrad continues. "His ash was found next to a metal rod they use to hang tapestries. They are drawing their own conclusions."

My hands tremble as I glance anxiously around the parking lot. I envision eyes watching from the shifting shadows.

"Tell me honestly," Conrad's voice lowers as if he's scared of being overheard. "Did you stake Costin? I know how aggressive he could be around you ever since we were kids. But if you killed him, that's… Dammit, Tamara, that's some serious shit we have to deal with. You need to tell me if you started the fire to hide a murder."

Tears burn my eyes as I search every corner of the surrounding darkness. Vampires move quickly. I could be dead before I even realized they were coming. My body is frozen in place, but I want to run at the same time. "He was on fire. Everything was. I tried to put him out with the tapestry, but I was too late. He…"

"Tam, if you go into the system, you'll be a sitting duck holding a giant neon target for the hunter to shoot at. I don't have to tell you that vampires have very powerful connections. You won't come out alive."

I draw my arms close to my body, feeling helpless. That fear of death is still inside me. "I didn't kill him. Costin just poofed when I tried to put out the flames."

"You need to stay hidden," Conrad persists. "Tell me where you are now."

"A gas station."

"In the Bronx?"

"No. I left the city. I'm safe. I'm with friends." I see Paul paying the cashier. It's not really a lie. He's a new friend, and he makes me feel safe—well, safer than being alone. "We're heading west."

"West?" I can hear his unease.

"Kansas City." I have no reason not to tell him, but I instantly wish I hadn't.

"Kansas?" He gives a short laugh of disbelief. "To what? Visit Dorothy and Toto's farm? Are you insane?"

The Wizard of Oz movie is probably the only thing he remembers about Kansas.

"No one will think to look for me there," I say.

The smoker bumps fists with the biker and returns to his van without fueling.

"Who with? That man and kid you were seen fleeing with? Who are they?"

"Nobody you know."

All my fears are coming true. We made the right choice leaving the city. If Conrad already knows I'm with Paul and Diana, it won't take long for other people to figure it out. It's one thing to be on the run from the police, but another matter entirely to be hunted by vampires and the supernatural. They don't give a shit about laws and due process. However, they do enjoy a good torture session and revenge.

"I have to go talk to these guys. I'm sure they're fine sitting on their asses drinking all our high-end bourbon, but Mabon and Beck are charging us a thousand dollars an hour. Don't do anything stupid. I'll figure out somewhere safe for you to hide while we figure this out. Keep your phone on." Conrad hangs up on me.

I slowly lower the phone.

"Oh, what a precious baby girl!" someone exclaims.

I gasp sharply in surprise and spin around at the closeness of the sound. The schoolmarm stands on the opposite side of the car, peeping into the window at Diana. She must have circled back since I didn't hear her creep up. So much for being vigilant. I'm off my game. I should never have let Conrad's words distract me from my surroundings.

I glance down to see the girl is still asleep before charging around to back the woman away.

She tries to smile at me as she reaches toward the door handle. "Do you think I could hold her? She looks just like my granddaughter."

I slide between her and the car, slapping her hand back. It's an instinct, a feeling I can't explain. Technically, I've been trained to defend myself in a fight, but real-world brawls differ significantly from a paid instructor on a floor mat. His number one lesson for a human against the supernatural was to run. "Not happening."

"Excuse me?" She blinks, trying to look innocent, but I know it's an act.

I've been around enough to recognize the hunger in her eyes. When I look closely, tiny worms appear to be swimming in her irises. I'm sure her kind has some fancy name, but I simply know them as soul eaters. They feed on people's energies, driving them into madness if they're unlucky enough to survive the attack.

"We're not on the menu." I'm taller and make a point of looking down at her. It's easy to be brave in front of a brightly lit convenience store with plenty of witnesses and security cameras, which I glance at for her sake.

Her mouth opens wide, and her jaw clicks as she bites at the air. She sniffs hard as if trying to determine who I am.

"Hey, how's it going?" Paul appears next to the car carrying two plastic bags. They swing in his rush to get to us. His tone is pleasant, but I see his concern.

The soul eater closes her mouth and resumes her smile. The expression is tight and shows no pleasure.

Paul comes close to me. "We ready?"

"Yeah." I nod. To the schoolmarm, I say, "Sorry we can't help you."

I know she's pissed by the way her body jerks, but she steps back and leaves us alone.

"Takes all types," Paul says.

I arch a brow and turn my face toward him even as my eyes stay on the soul eater. She shuffles toward her car parked in the shadows at the edge of the station.

"Always sad when drugs take hold of a person." He leans against the car next to me. "What did she want?"

I think about how to tell the truth without actually telling the truth. "Dinner, but I didn't like the way she was trying to look into the car."

Paul reaches into one of the bags and goes after the woman. "Wait, hold up."

I start to stop him but hesitate. I don't want to make a big scene.

The woman turns, and I watch Paul try to hand her a sandwich. She snarls at him and waves a hand in dismissal. The movements jerk violently, and I hope she doesn't pounce. Clearly, she's losing control and, with it, her ability to hide what she is.

Paul jogs back to the car with the sandwich. "Good call sending her away. She's definitely high on something. Pity."

"We should go," I prompt, hurrying to get into the car.

Paul lifts himself into the driver's seat and hands me the bags. "I grabbed some snacks, toothbrushes, and some very fashionable t-shirts. I figure the hotel will provide soap."

I hold the bags but don't look in them. I'm more interested in watching the soul eater stumble in the parking lot. I wish there was something I could do to stop it, but I've long had to accept that there is evil in the world. Much of that evil can't be killed, at least not in any way I am capable of. All we can do is try to protect ourselves.

"She'll probably go sleep it off in her car." Paul suppresses a yawn, and we leave the parking lot.

I glance back at Diana. Her stuffed puppy has fallen on the seat next to her. She'll never know how much danger she was in tonight.

It's a short drive down a frontage road to a hotel. I watch the soul eater disappear from view, still hunting the parking lot. The stranger she acts, the more likely it is she'll scare potential meals away. The thought gives my guilt little comfort.

I think of the look in her eyes and know she didn't recognize me. Even if she had, it would not have mattered. Conrad and I are no longer protected as members of the Devine family. Not anymore. Not when everything scary about that name is currently rotting in a mausoleum.