“Bea, I know you’re really upset, but…”
I have been attacked by little green bald men, fucked by a monster, and I can run almost as fast as a car. I can also bend part of a bed; wonder if I should grab something here and give a demonstration? “Upset doesn’t even begin to cover it, Donny. I fucked up and now you’re in danger. You can’t even imagine the kind of fucking danger you’re in, so pick up that goddamn bag and get the fuck out of here.”
She didn’t mean to scream; Don actually rocked on his slipper-clad heels. Not only that, but he looked at her like she’d grown another head, and Bea’s mouth felt funny.
No. Don’t you dare. She tipped her head back, staring at the unfinished ceiling. Sleet pounded down, and the roads were going to be miserable. Thin tremors ran through her arms and legs. What time is it? I gotta figure out when dawn is, in case I pass out. If I sleep in the sun, will that fix me? Or will I barbecue?
She’d been doing a lot of thinking on the way over, mostly in frantic circles. She still didn’t know how Lukas had found her in the motel; he was probably on the way right now.
Her teeth still felt the same. She ran her tongue over them several times to be sure; when her chin came back down and she glared at Don, he took another hasty step back. The indistinct light in here was bright as noon to her new senses; she saw every pore and pit on his familiar face, microscopic flecks of spaghetti sauce on his shirt.
Not only that, but the rumpled waterbed reeked of sweat and sex. He and Callie almost certainly had a farewell fuck, and that was something Bea could have done without knowing.
“I’m sorry.” Two completely inadequate words, trembling in a voice she barely recognized as her own. “I really thought I’d done it. I really thought you were safe, but you’re not and it’s my fault.”
“Jesus Christ, Bebe. Quit blaming yourself for everything, willya?” Don swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Jared wouldn’t want that.”
“Jared’s dead,” she pointed out, grimly. “So grab your go-bag and get the fuck out of here. I’m so sorry, but that doesn’t change anything. Oh, and I need a car too.”
“Fuck me.” Now he was aggrieved, classic Don. “I can vanish, sure, but if I take any merchandise with me?—”
“I know where the chop bays are, for fucksake. I can toss your place and make it look like you got robbed.” Especially with superspeed. It might even be a grim sort of fun. “But I need you to get out, Donny. Please.”
“What are you gonna do?”
It was Bea’s turn to scrub at her hair, fingertips pressing hard on her scalp, melting drops plopping from her sweater and the ends of her curls. She rubbed at her damp face, her tongue exploring her teeth again—had they changed, were they a little sharper? The sound of Don’s heart was quickly becoming an irritant. “I’m gonna drive north for a bit,” she said finally, muffled by her hands. Whatever expression she was wearing, it couldn’t be polite or comfortable. “There’s something I have to do. After that, I dunno. I’ll figure it out.”
When she was brave enough to look again, Don wore a peculiar expression. “Why don’t we team up? Our chances are better together, right?”
Oh, hell no. Not now, for God’s sake. It was vintage Donny Bertram to pull something like this. At least Bea had a really good answer that didn’t require picking her way through a minefield of friendzone accusations. “I saw Jare’s body,” she said, tonelessly. “I don’t want to see yours, too.”
The thought of what Lukas might do to her brother’s friend was, she decided, so terrifying as to be darkly hilarious. All those threats—flaying, grinding bones to powder—acquired horrible depth not just because he’d said them with such flat unconcern, but because she’d had his teeth in her throat.
And other things, buried in other places. Lukas wasn’t human, and God alone knew what he’d do if he caught her and Donny together. Even trying to imagine the event made her stomach flip uneasily, though she hadn’t eaten anything in days.
Come to think of it, she hadn’t needed the toilet either. Which was thought-provoking, sure, but she had all she could handle at the moment.
“Is it really that bad?” Don was braver than the average bear, at least. And he’d done her not just one but several solids, signing onto her quest for revenge.
She couldn’t drag him down with her. “However bad you think it could get, it’s a thousand times worse. A million, even. You gotta go, Donny. Go and stay gone, and for God’s sake don’t start up another podcast. If Lu—” She swallowed the name. “If Andranov comes after you, I can’t stop him. I can’t even slow him down. I gotta know you’re safe.”
It didn’t take much more arguing after that. It took even less to get the key to an electric-blue Dodge Charger sitting in a chop bay, its VIN already chipped and new plates applied; Don threw in a slender roll of gas money despite her refusal.
He even hugged her awkwardly, one-armed, before climbing into his own escape vehicle—a primer-spotted Taurus parked under a tarp on the warehouse’s sheltered west side, its nose pointed at a nearly hidden alley giving directly out on Charney Street. Which was nice of him, sure.
But the thunder of his heartbeat scraped the rapidly expanding dry spot in her throat, and her mouth tingled. No fangs yet, but Bea didn’t want to push it.
She didn’t wave goodbye, but she did watch his taillights vanish as he took a left at the end of the alley, probably a little faster than he should have. The tires chirped, the suggestion of a fishtail skid straightened out, and he was gone.
Thank God.
The sleet was trying mightily to turn into snow; the warehouse stood bleak and slumped, as if it knew it had been discarded like an old snakeskin. Now Bea had to toss the living quarters to cover Don’s tracks and then get the hell out of here.
If she managed that she could hit the turnpike going north, drive until dawn got close. If she didn’t make it in time, could she pull off the road and find a shaded place to sleep? Maybe the sun would rise, she’d pass out behind the wheel, and all of this would become academic.
Was she hoping for that? Bea jumped; the warehouse roof had creaked—a usual noise, but never so loud.
Her ears were getting more sensitive, not less. So was the rest of her.
