process or procedure was done, the evil was gone, only the two men remaining. Except—no. These were not men, were they. They were other.
They were vampire.
Okay, that was fucking hot.
* * *
Jo had been a rule abider all her life, and it was probably the adopted thing. She had always felt if she didn’t do what she was told, she would get sent back to wherever the reject kids got returned to, like a microwave with a faulty latch or an alarm clock that didn’t go off or a suitcase that had a handle broken.
And Jesus, when you had a police officer pointing a gun at you? All that yes-ma’am inclination ratcheted up even higher.
“Put the weapon down now!”
As her hand followed her brain’s command to release, she had a moment when she prayed this wasn’t a Quentin Tarantino film where the damn thing would hit the ground and somehow go off into her knee, scaring the policewoman into shooting her full of holes as well—all while some seventies standard played in the background and the man next to her suddenly had wide lapels and a desire to talk about what quarter pounders with cheese were called in Europe.
Except it didn’t go down like that.
The man next to her might have kept the lapels of his leather jacket just the same. But he somehow caught the gun before it had dropped more than three inches from her hand.
And nothing happened.
The policewoman didn’t start pulling her trigger and there were no more verbal commands from her, either. She just stood where she was, crouched behind the cover of her open door, gun trained straight ahead.
“Come on,” the man beside Jo said. “Let’s go.”
He put the weapon back in her hand and started forward.
“What are you doing?” she said, staring at her gun as if she’d never seen it before.
“She won’t be a problem. But we’ve got to move.”
Jo looked up into the stark face of her very questionable savior. He was utterly calm, almost bored—while he had his back to a member of the Caldwell Police Department who two seconds ago had been trigger-happy.
But who now seemed like she’d swallowed an Ambien. Or twelve. Maybe fifteen.
This is my answer, Jo thought. This man is what I have been looking for.
As she nodded and they took off again, she was aware that the choice to go with him was a threshold, and having crossed over it, she would be wise not to take for granted that she was going to like the answers she found. This quest thing she had been caught up in had always been frustrated up until now. But sometimes, there was comfort to be had in the unattainable. You didn’t appreciate it, however, until you got the kind of information that you only wanted to give back.
Too late, though. She had voted with her feet.
Literally.
The man in leather took her down more alleys, and then, without warning, he stopped in front of a door that looked like it had had a very tough life. The metal panel had multiple boot marks right next to the jamb by the deadbolt, as if there had been a number of frustrated attempts to break in.
On the other hand, somehow, the man didn’t have any trouble opening it. Did he use a key and she just not see?
As he went through the doorway, Jo followed, taking comfort that her gun was still in her hand. The interior of wherever they were was so dark that she could see nothing, but that changed when a candle flared.
Ten feet away from where they were both standing.
Pivoting toward the fragile flame, she felt her heart pound—and not from exertion. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?” he said as he shut them in together and then walked past her.
“The candle. The door. The cop.”
When he faced her again, he was across a cluttered space, and there was frustration in his expression, as if he were upset with himself. With a grunt, he settled himself down on the floor, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms over his chest. He did not meet her eyes, and she had the strange sense that he was not so much avoiding her, but containing himself while he was around her.
In the strained silence, she looked around because it was a better option than staring at him. The commercial kitchen they’d taken refuge in had been long abandoned, and the exodus from its short-ceiling’d confines had been sloppy and rushed.