“Your neck,” the teacher murmured, as if mentioning that Alex had a speck of food on her face.
Alex put her hand to her neck. She couldn’t tell how bad the wound was.
She released her ponytail, hoping her hair would hide the worst of it.
“Can I come with you?” the teacher asked as Alex rose on wobbly legs.
Alex nodded. She knew how much the Bridegroom had wanted to remember what it was like to be in a body, and even if every moment she spent with this Gray was perilous, she didn’t want to be alone.
She let the teacher drift into her this time, at her own pace. Alex saw a classroom of bored faces, a few raised hands, a sunny apartment and a woman with long graying hair, dancing as she set the table. Love flooded through her.
Alex let it carry her into the mini-mart. She bought rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, and a box of big bandages, along with a liter of Coke and a bag of Doritos. She kept her head down and paid in cash, glancing out at the parking lot, still afraid she’d see a dark shape descending.
She went to the bathroom to clean herself up. But as soon as she shut the door and looked in the mirror, she had to stop again.
Maybe she’d expected two clean little puncture wounds like in the movies, but the marks in her neck were jagged and ugly, crusted with blood.
He hadn’t pierced her jugular or she’d be dead, but there was plenty of mess.
She looked like she’d been mauled by an animal, and she supposed she had.
Alex wiped away the blood, ignoring the sting of the alcohol, grateful for it.
She was cleaning him away, scrubbing out any trace of him.
Her neck looked better when she was done, but Alex was still afraid.
What if that thing had infected her with something? And why the fuck hadn’t anyone told her vampires were real?
Alex slapped a bandage on her neck and walked out to the curb. She sat down in the same spot and took a big swig of soda.
Eventually the teacher reemerged looking almost delirious with pleasure from the sugar. It would be polite to ask her name, but Alex had to set some limits.
“Do you have someone to call?” the woman asked.
She sounded like so many of the school counselors and social workers Alex had breezed through in her childhood. The good ones at least.
“I have to call Dawes,” she said, ignoring the confused look from the burly guy in plaid flannel pumping diesel into his truck and watching her talk to no one. “I just don’t want to.” Alex felt sick with grief for the Mercedes, abandoned back in Old Greenwich. It was possible the vampire wouldn’t find it, or not for a while. She didn’t know anything about vampires. Did they have some preternatural sense of smell or an ability to track their victims?
She shuddered.
“You seem like a good kid,” said the teacher. “What were you doing there?”
Alex took another swig. “You were a counselor, weren’t you?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“It’s nice,” Alex admitted. But this Gray couldn’t save her any more than the other kind people who had tried.
She pulled her cell from her jeans pocket, grateful that it hadn’t gotten lost in the chase. There was no point to calling Dawes, not yet. She needed someone with a car.
Alex nearly burst into tears when Turner actually picked up.
“Stern,” he said, his voice flat.
“Turner, I need your help.”
“What else is new?” “Can
you come get me?” “Where
are you?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.” She craned her neck, looking for a sign. “Darien.”
“Why can’t you call a car?”
She didn’t want to call a car. She didn’t want to be near another stranger.
“I … Something happened to me. I need a ride.”
There was a long pause, then sudden silence, as if he’d turned off a television. “Text me your address.”
“Thanks.”
Alex hung up, found the location of the service station, and sent it to Turner. Then she stared at her phone. The fear was leaving her, replaced by fury, and it felt good, like that rubbing alcohol, cleaning her wounds, waking her up. She dialed.
For once Eitan picked up immediately. He’d been watching, waiting to see if she survived.
