The Vampire Diaries: Trust In Betrayal (Kindle Worlds) (In Time We Trust Trilogy Book 3) (5 page)

“Yeah, it’s backed up,” I tell her, trying to sound like it is no big deal.

It’s not like it’s the first time. I lost everything I owned when our family’s house burned, and I had just started to build things back up again. I mean, yeah, you can buy everything new but it takes a while to break in shoes to where they’re comfortable. Or find a pillow that’s the combination of soft and fat that you want. And when
everything’s
new, nothing really feels like it belongs to you. I left my backpack in class twice earlier this year just because I didn’t remember it was mine.

I try not to look at the shiny duffel in the corner, filled with jeans and tee shirts and a five pack of boxers in an odd brand that I’m not even sure are going to fit yet. Which reminds me: I need to buy pajama pants tomorrow if Cali’s going to be staying in my room. Shit, I hate sleeping in jeans. The rivets always bite into my hips, and invariably it’s those nights when my dick works its way out of the flap of my boxers and gets scratched on the zipper.

I shouldn’t be complaining. Nobody died tonight. And more than most people, I understand what that really means. Those Augustine vampires are scary fast and there were so many of them. We shouldn’t have all made it out alive.

“This calls for a revolution,” Cali says definitively, standing up on her bed and jumping once to build momentum before she makes the leap over to mine.

The bed bounces and I knock my knuckles against the headboard with the jolt of her landing. I drop my arm back down again. It’s been like a day and a half since my last shower and I’m probably way overdue.

“Should I be armed for this revolution?” I ask her warily.

“It’s a communist revolution,” she says, dropping down next to me with her whole weight at once like we’re on a trampoline instead of a cheap motel mattress. She holds out an ear bud. “All property held in common.” She waggles the ear bud enticingly. “I’ve got the new Lindsey Stirling…”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to admit I like that,” I say dryly, trying not to notice that she’s got Sennheiser ear buds because I’m not a snob or whatever, and ear buds are never going to compete with a decent set of noise-cancelling headphones, but those things can pack
so
much bass into a tiny little rubberized nubbin.

“Come on, violin and electronica, what’s not to love?” She purses her lips in a playful pout, her eyes dancing. “We can even pretend you don’t have all her hilariously bizarre YouTube videos bookmarked so you can watch her shake her tiny little booty.”

I flush and look down. “Shut up. She’s a good dancer.”

Cali shrieks with laughter and then leans over and presses a kiss into my cheek, sending my skin tingling all the way down my chest.

“You’re adorable,” she announces, and snuggles down into the pillow next to me.

My heart jumps and I forget to breathe, focusing on the warmth of her body right next to me.

I’m so tired I’m almost crazy enough to wish I were a few years older and she were a few notches less talented, because I’d give my right leg to be playing in Cali Jameson’s league.

The ear bud appears above my face and this time I take it, scooting down so I’m lying flat and then shifting a little closer to her so the wire will reach. The music is already playing and the opening violin is like a smooth curve pouring into my ears.

I close my eyes.

Her shoulder presses against mine, and the round little cap of her deltoid muscle makes a firm cushion so she doesn’t feel bony like most girls do. It’s nice.

I should probably get up and shower, especially if she’s going to be lying so close to me. But this song is really good and my body feels heavy against the bed.

Probably I should say something to break the silence, since we barely know each other and we’re lying practically in each other’s arms. But I fall asleep before I can think of what to say.

STEFAN

I’m supposed to be shopping, but my hands feel heavy and reluctant, the idea of new things almost repellant in a way I don’t care to examine.

“Recurve bow?” Damon proposes, offering me one from the rack of weapons in the sporting goods store we’re currently browsing. “The only crossbow they have looks like something made for a snot-nosed brat to shoot squirrels and his kid brother with.” He eyes it warily, and the disg
ust in his look is enough to tease the corner of my mouth into lifting slightly, despite my mood.

“I guess I’m glad Father never got you a crossbow when we were boys, then. The slingshot was bad enough.”

Damon snorts. “Pansy. I only shot you with acorns. Could have been a lot worse.”

“Slingshots!” Ric snaps his fingers. “That could be a decent grenade substitute. If we could get our hands on some vervain we could load it into small glass jars, or even stoppered test tubes since the glass would break more easily.”

“Or water balloons,” Cali puts in, looking up from studying a display of hunting knives. She smiles quizzically. “Though I’m not sure I understand why honesty-inducing herbal remedies are your weapon of choice.”

Caroline told me she filled Cali in on a lot of things, but it keeps surprising me when she pipes up with insider knowledge of our world.

“Ric, you’re thinking like a—” Damon cuts himself off before he says human. He rolls his eyes instead. “We can throw them as far as we want. We don’t need slingshots.”

“Vervain doesn’t force us to be honest,” I explain to Cali, keeping my voice down so the owner of the sporting goods store doesn’t overhear. “It just makes us unable to compel humans or enter their minds. And if we touch the herb, or water infused with the herb, it burns us. That’s why—” I cough, trying to cover the gap as I realize at the last minute that she doesn’t remember fighting Damon for the vervain in the foyer of the boarding house. She doesn’t know anymore how he hissed with pain when he took it from her, because I erased those memories.

My stomach twists with guilt for compelling her and I’m distracted for a moment from the aching loss of all my possessions, from the images of my journal pages twisting and crackling black under the flames, the melting case of my first record player, the Bon Jovi cassette tape Lexi gave me. The way the flawless paint must have blistered on the vintage Porsche I’ve babied all these years.

“That’s why you put it in grenades,” Cali says, thinking she’s finishing my sentence. She frowns. “Why don’t you just use pepper spray? It’s easier to find, and it works just fine.” She shrugs. “Wears off kinda fast on the Augustines is all.”

Ric looks at her, interested. “That’s not a bad idea. I think I saw bear mace a couple of aisles over. You should grab some.”

“I’m not going to pepper spray the Augustines like a skittish soccer mom in a parking garage,” Damon scoffs.

“Why not?” I ask him. “It has the same effect as grenades.”

“Baby Bro, only you would think that something you can buy in pink to match your handbag is the same as a grenade.”

I cross my arms and quirk an eyebrow at him, amused. “Oh, so you’re embarrassed? Don’t worry, brother, those of us who are secure in our masculinity will do what needs to be done. You can stand in the back and look cool in your leather jacket.”

“I’ll look plenty cool enough standing over a pile of bodies while you’re busy shouting ‘No means no!’ and trying to make them cry about it,” he sneers.

Cali snorts with laugher at our bickering and Ric gives her a long-suffering smile in solidarity.

“Come on,” I tell her lightly. “Want to help me destroy my masculinity by buying bear spray?”

“Absolutely,” she says, still snickering at my brother.

“Don’t let him get sidetracked in the shoe department,” Damon instructs her. “Stefan does love those sensible pumps.”

“You’re the one wearing heels.” She tosses a glance at his new motorcycle boots. “Don’t worry,” she tells him
sotto voce
, “5’9” is a perfectly respectable height.”

“He prefers to call it five nine and a
half,
” I say with a knowing smile in my brother’s direction.

He narrows his eyes slightly at me in his “Yeah, you’re not the funny brother” expression, but all he says to Cali is, “Easy on the judgment there, munchkin, or I’ll call Santa and then it’s right back to the sweatshop with you.”

I shift my weight subtly so I’ll be in the middle if one of them loses their temper, but Cali just grins. “I’d have gone with the Oompa Loompa joke myself. Goes better with the hair.” She flicks a finger at her bright blue streaks.

Damon winks cheerfully. “Noted.”

I shift my jacket on my shoulders, glad he didn’t choose today to get sensitive about his height. He and Cali have been getting along surprisingly well since Jeremy brought her home, in stark contrast to the days when she Tasered him and he threatened to burn her house down. Apparently the difference in their introduction made all the difference in their relationship, and I can’t help but hope it might work out the same for me.

I touch Cali’s back, steering her toward the aisle with the bear-strength pepper spray and she moves ahead of me with surprisingly long strides for her size. I catch up in front of the display, and she’s frowning at two different brands. I take advantage of her moment of inattention to finally let myself just look at her, because I’ve been trying to keep from staring all morning.

She’s wearing black leggings and another tight tank top today, but she has a long, soft sweater over the top in a midnight blue that is open in the front and drapes gracefully as it skims the edges of her hips. Instead of her normal combat boots, she’s wearing black ballet flats that expose the tops of her delicate feet and give just a peek at the valley of her toes in a way that’s surprisingly seductive.

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she examines the label on one of the cans. “Do you think we want to maximize
area
of spray, or
distance
of spray?”

“Depends,” I consider, snapping my eyes away from her and back to the can. “Does it work through clothes?”

She peeks up at me, her lips quirking into an amused smile. “Strangely, they don’t address that on the packaging. Must not be an issue for their target audience.”

Right.

I try to cover my embarrassment with a mock serious face. “Those nudist bears. Those are the ones you generally want to mace, anyway.”

“They get so fresh,” she teases, playing along. “All the
waggling
. And the growling.”

I chuckle, unable to help myself. She smiles, and I swallow nervously, my mouth suddenly dry.

“So, you said you were in a band,” I venture. “Do you miss playing with them?”

“We’ve only been gone a day,” she reminds me, and I glance away, feeling like a complete ass. “But yeah, generally any time I can’t play I miss it like most people would miss an arm or a leg.”

She sets the mace down and looks back at me like she’s waiting but I can’t think of anything else to ask her about the band so I clear my throat slightly and say, “So, how are you doing with all this so far? Being on the run, I mean.”

She catches the edges of her sweater and wraps them around herself in a way that makes her look small and cozy and huggable. Her eyes skitter away from mine toward the display shelves and she shrugs. “You know. It is what it is.” She bends down. “How many cans of this do you think we need?”

I scrub a hand over the back of my neck. Apparently my small talk skills are a little rusty. “Probably as many as we can get.”

We both gather an armload of cans and I look up when the cowbell on the front door jangles obnoxiously and Jeremy pushes through, letting the door crash closed behind him. He pauses when he sees me and Cali, but then blinks and heads for Damon’s aisle instead.