Theron whistles.“Dude’s fucking ice cold.Damn.”
Shadow scoffs.“Like you’re one to talk, but yeah.Dude’s a vengeful narcissist of note.”
Ignoring them, I want to clarify something first.“Tempest’s house.Where the sign is.The Dead Ride Fast sign?”
“Yeah.”
Theron helps me.“If Shadow and I go fetch the quadbike, do you think you could have him in the water by the time we get back?”
Shadow finishes the plan.“If you drain him, make sure to leave an injury to justify it.Remember, Kelly was panicked about Piers not coming to pick her up.Only he couldn’t, because he had a quadbike accident and drove himself into the creek.Agree?”
“Agree.”
The moon is rising high in the sky as I race to find my ex-boyfriend.
I gave you every chance to do the right thing, Piers.You could have walked away at any time over the last ten years, found a nice girl, gotten married, had some kids.
You could have lived your life forward instead of allowing it to poison you every time you looked back.
And then I see him.
I say nothing, standing there and waiting for him to look up and see me.He has his head down deep in thought, his hands in his pockets.He’s probably re-living the terrified scream I gave when I saw his knuckle turning white as he increased the pressure on the trigger.
I thought he was going to kill my mom.Hadn’t he already tried?But no, it was me he was after all along.
So now why am I trying to see things from his point of view?
Because it pleases me.
He’s suddenly aware of not being alone.Piers looks up.The moon is waning, a thin sliver of silver in the black sky.
He’s wondering why a female is standing in the middle of the road.
He’s thinking how much her outline reminds him of the corpse he left on the floor of Ben’s house.He is searching his memory for any of the tourists who might fit my particular physical description.
Fool.
He comes closer, sure in the fact that I am dead.
“Evening.Are you lost?”
He believes me to be one of the ornithologists.Or the yoga ladies.
I wait for him to come closer.
The recognition in his eyes is priceless.The shreds of my tank top blow in the chilly night breeze.My cutoff jeans are mottled with gore.He kicked me in the gut so hard, my intestines ruptured, and then he blew a hole through my liver for good measure.
I reek of congealed blood and intestinal fluids.My hair hangs in braids of dried coagulant.But I am alive.
“Jesus Christ!”Taking a step back, Piers looks around quickly for help.Not to help me, of course, but himself.He’s scared, unsure, and he wants to run.Welcome to my club, buddy boy.
“We’re all alone.”My voice comes out as a raspy snarl.
Taking another step back, he holds his hands palms out.
“Jesus, Aila, would you look at yourself?”He retches, swallows, and then, bending over, he heaves and spasms from the stench.Wiping his mouth, his voice shakes.“G-get back!Let me go get help.That’s what I was doing, you know.I swear.I mean, for Christ’s sake, Aila, look what you made me do.”
Growling, I launch myself at him.My strength is exhilarating.Fastening my mouth on his neck, I dig in my fangs.The blood is hot and so yummy.Too bad about its donor.
