IM02 - Hunters & Prey (6 page)

My stomach sank as she turned to open the glass door. I felt like I was betraying everything by coming here. Lysander had made it clear I was dead to this world and that I could never again see my friends. Now here I was walking straight back into my mortal life. There were bound to be consequences.

The door opened again, sending another pleasant rush of incense-filled smoke into my face. My heart stopped for a moment and emotion flooded to the surface. Café Copioh had always been like a second home—mortal home, that is. I fought against the tears welling in my eyes.

I miss this place.

I closed my eyes and savored the scent of espresso, chocolate, and cigarettes. I took slow, deep breaths, allowing each fragrance to bring back fond memories. Nostalgia did not last long though. The warm sugary smell of blood and people, surrounding me, tempted the beast inside me.

Thank God I just fed, or this would be unbearable.

Fallon reached out and grabbed my arm, jolting me from my thoughts.

“C’mon. Lets grab a table.” She pulled me into the café. Soft lamplight filled the room in the bohemian coffee house. Copioh boasted its own unique flair. I felt wistful, noting each detail I had taken for granted in the past. Every wall had been painted in a different color: teal, brown, sage, and maroon. I spotted my favorite mural, a black light illuminated copy of Van Gogh’s
Starry Night
. It covered the wall leading to the bar.

The hum of the patrons here was like music to my ears. Mindless chatter about parties, college exams, and who was dumping whom; it all reminded me that life went on even if I had been forced to leave it behind.

As we walked through the crowd, smiles greeted me from the regulars who had been acquaintances before I was turned. A few hands clapped me on the back. Old friends said their greetings and started to ask me where I had been, but Fallon pulled me away before I could answer.

We searched for an open table. The place was filled with a plethora of flea market style furnishings, no two pieces were alike, each one well used and showing its age. We found an open couch and table near the makeshift stage in the back corner.

“You want some coffee, Lyssa?” Fallon asked. The concerned look on her face tugged at my heart.

“No. I’m good.”
Already had my drink for the night.

“You look sick; you need something. Sit here.” She pushed me down on the worn, cream-colored couch. “I’m getting something to warm you up.”

“No, really, that’s not necessary.” I tried to protest, but Fallon was already walking back to the bar.

I sighed, wondering what, if anything, I should tell her. I was at a loss. I’d never been a very good liar and I knew my best friend would grill me until she was satisfied with the answers I gave her. I needed something to tell her. I needed to invent a plausible reason for my disappearance: vacation, sudden death in the family, natural disaster, something.

She came back sooner than I expected.

“Here, drink this.” She handed me a Styrofoam cup filled with steaming black coffee.

The warmth from the cup felt good in my hands, making me aware of exactly how cold my skin must feel.

Fallon sat down in the chair across from me and lit a cigarette. “Spill it. What happened to you? I need details.”

“Still smoking, I see,” I said, trying desperately to change the subject.

She took a drag from her cigarette. “Yeah, well when my best friend disappeared off the face of the earth, what did you expect me to do? I haven’t been sleeping or eating right either, thanks for asking.” Her eyes narrowed at me.

“Dining on ashes isn’t going to help the situation,” I said, pointing to the cigarette in her hand. “You said you were quitting.”

She took another long drag. Silvery-gray smoke rose from the tip, curling up to the ceiling. I watched it vanish, mingling with the rest of the haze that hung in the air.

“Listen, we’re not here to talk about my bad habits.” She exhaled, sending a cloud of smoke in my direction. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I… uh… look, that’s not important right now. I’m here, right? That should be all that matters.” I set the coffee down on a small table next to the couch.

“You’re not getting off that easy.” Her tone became sharp. “I’ve been worried sick. I didn’t know what happened to you. I called the cops, filed missing person reports, and harassed them every week hoping to find out information about you. I need answers.”

“Keep your voice down,” I warned. I didn’t need the entire café knowing my business.

“No! I want to know what happened to you.” She clenched her jaw and tapped her sandaled foot on the floor.

“Okay. You want to know what happened?” Time to think fast. “I was on vacation, forgot my phone, and my apartment got broken into.” I knew it was a lame excuse even as I said the words.

Fallon took another drag from her cigarette and blew a thick cloudy puff in my direction. “You expect me to believe that bullshit, Alyssa?” she asked indignantly. “What are you hiding from me?”

“Will you keep your voice down?”

My eyes met hers. I sensed the mix of anger and concern behind her cold stare. I sagged into the couch, my heart suddenly heavy and aching with sorrow. I didn’t want to hide things from her. She was my best friend. But I didn’t want to tell her the truth either.

Damn it. What do I tell her?

She stared me down with determination. I knew this look well: the narrow eyes, the slight wrinkle as her eyebrows pulled together, the pursed lips. It didn’t take years of friendship to translate that look.

I don’t want to have to do this. But you leave me no choice.

I looked deeply into her brown eyes.
Please let this go, Fallon.
I tried to call up the strength inside me, to will her to relax and drop the subject.

Fallon gasped. “Your eyes. They look funny.”

The ache in my heart grew stronger. I let out a defeated sigh. “I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what? Lyssa, just talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. You used to tell me everything. What happened to you?”

I fidgeted nervously in my seat, staring at the multi-colored painted concrete floor.

What do I say? What can I tell her? Damn it. I shouldn’t have come here.

“You wouldn’t understand. Just please accept that I’m here now.”

Fallon got up and sat next to me on the couch. She put an arm around me and pulled me in close to her.

“Whatever you’ve been through, I’ll understand. Please, just tell me.”

Her warmth radiated through my skin, reminding me of what it was like to feel the heat of the sun as a mortal. I took a slow deep breath; her sugary smell played at my nose, tempting me.

I jerked away. “No, please sit back over there.” I pointed to the chair in front of me. I opened my mouth wide, gulping a breath of air, hoping to wash away the sweet smell that threatened to call out my hunger.

Fallon gasped. I realized she must have caught sight of my teeth.

Crap.

She jerked away quickly, falling off of the couch. “What the fuck!”

I reached down to help pick her up off the ground, but she recoiled.

“Yeah, I see how well you understand,” I said, noting the horrified, wide-eyed look on her face. “I knew I shouldn’t have come here.”

Pushing myself up from the couch, I stood up and took a step toward the front door.

A warm hand grabbed me, and I looked back. Fallon still looked at me with horror, but something in her eyes told me to stay.

“Alyssa…” She looked like she was struggling with what to say. I wished I could read her thoughts. A rush of confused feelings vibrated from her. I felt each one as if they were my own. Anger, sadness, disgust, worry, and most of all, fear.

Against my better judgment, I accepted the pull of her hand, retreating back to the couch. She inched away to the edge as I sat back down.

“What… why… who…” She kept opening her mouth to speak and shutting it again as each sound escaped.

Do I tell her the truth? She knows, but she may not believe it until I say it. Is there some other explanation I can give her to calm her fears?

I took no pleasure in seeing how frightened she was. She wasn’t my victim. It pained me to see the panic in her eyes. I recalled how it had felt when Lysander first told me what I was. I couldn’t imagine being such a thing. I thought myself a monster. If Fallon made the connection—and the scared look on her face suggested she did—I had no doubt she would think of me as a monster too.

“I’m the same Alyssa you’ve always known. Please don’t look at me like that.”

Fallon reached up, trembling fingers pointed toward my face. “Your eyes, your skin, those teeth… What…What are you?”

“So I look a little different. I’m still me.” I needed her to believe me. The terrified look on her face tore at my heart.

“What happened? You have to tell me.” She pulled another cigarette from her pack.

I took a deep breath and searched for the right words. I needed to put this delicately. “What do you think I am? What do you think happened to me?”
Best to assess what she thinks before I go giving away too many secrets.

“I… you’re… This is crazy. I can’t say it.” She fidgeted unsuccessfully with her lighter.

Well, that settles it. She knows.
She had the same knowing disbelief I had experienced the night I was turned. I had seen the truth staring back at me, but I hadn’t wanted to believe it. “I am what you think I am.”
Could I be more vague?
“But I’m not here to hurt you or anyone else.”

I grabbed the lighter from her shaking hands and lit her cigarette for her.

“Thanks.” She took a quick puff. “This is crazy. I’m not even going to say what I think you are. It’s not possible.”

“It is. And I am.”

“How?”

How? That one word brought back flashes of memory: a fist slamming into my face, a knife thrust into my back, the cold, creepy oozing feeling of blood spilling out of my body onto the warm asphalt. I winced from the echoed pain, clenching my jaw.

“The night you ditched me,” I said, a note of anger in my voice.

The cigarette dropped as Fallon’s hand shot up to cover her mouth.

“I walked home alone that night and was attacked. Two men beat me. They tried …” The memory of the fat, ugly man holding me down as his friend unzipped his pants played before my eyes. “They tried to rape and kill me.” My fist clenched at my side as I struggled to push the memories away. I spoke through gritted teeth, fighting to hold back the anger in my voice. “I almost died.”

“I didn’t know.” Her voice cracked. “Lyssa, I’m so sorry.”

I nodded and cleared my throat, taking a moment to calm myself. I wasn’t angry at Fallon, but the memories of that brutal night were still very painful. “A man came to my rescue, and…”
How do I say this?
“Took care of them.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “He changed me because … otherwise I would have died.”

“H-h-how?” She took a few heavy breaths.

“Calm down. Just breathe. Trust me. You don’t really want the details.” I had already told her too much. I didn’t want to relive that night anymore, but my memory flashed again and I saw myself lying in Lysander’s arms, drinking blood from his wrist. I writhed in pain as liquid fire surged through me, changing me—turning me into a vampire.

“You drink … blood … don’t you?”

I groaned under my breath. This was the question I dreaded most of all. She couldn’t possibly understand the need – the want. The desire.

I glanced down to the floor, not wanting to see the expression on her face when I quietly answered, “Yes.”

Another sharp gasp came from Fallon’s direction. I didn’t want to look up; I knew the disgusted look was there, painted across her face. Who could blame her? What rational human being could understand drinking blood? I struggled with it myself in those first few weeks as a newborn vampire.

Though the café was filled with the continuous hum of conversations going on all around us, the silence between Fallon and me was all I could focus on. For what felt like a small eternity, I sat there, not speaking, not looking at her, as I awaited a response—any response.

She wasn’t saying anything. Fear permeated her scent, intensifying it, making it more potent to my senses. She was in shock. I needed to snap her out of this.

I looked up and spotted the coffee Fallon offered me earlier. I grabbed it and handed it to her while stealing a glance at her face. She looked pale, her jaw trembled, and she stared blankly ahead, eyes blinking in a slow beat, as if in a trance.

I made my voice as soothing as possible. “Drink this, it will help.”

Her limp, shaking hand grasped the cup. She brought it to her lips, taking a slow sip.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

She stared down intently at the coffee as she drank, refusing to meet my gaze.