grumbled.
“Twenty three.”
“Don't care. You're still an obnoxious teenager to me.”
When we pulled up outside the Plains Hotel, Gilchrist went around the side of the building to scout it out, and I quickly changed. He sent me in to rent a room. When I came back with the key, Gilchrist had loaded three large bags onto his own back and left mine in the car for me to worry about.
“Why did we pick the historic hotel?” I asked. “Isn't that a bad idea?”
“Nope. It's a great idea. It's the perfect location for my plan.”
We hurried into the building. Gilchrist seemed to struggle with one of the bags, but when I tried to help him, he snapped. “Don't touch it,” he said. “You break this one, our defenses are down.”
We entered a room decorated with barn red bedspreads and statuettes of cowboys. There were two double beds and Gilchrist set the bags on the bed closest to the door and extracted a small, red generator. He set to work starting it up. When it was purring softly (or softly for a generator) he placed it at the open window to ventilate. I watched, unmoving, as he pulled out a pair of light fixtures with long thin bulbs and hooked them up to the generator.
“Are we sleeping with the lights on?” I asked.
“Would you prefer to wake up in a casket?”
I sat down on the bed closest to the window. “I suppose sleeping in broad daylight is better.”
“Good. We'll make it through the night and tomorrow we'll talk about how we're going to get rid of him for good.”
“What about my family?” I asked.
“You'll only worry them if you call them. The less they know, the safer they are. Staying away is the best you can do for them. You're just going to have to hope and pray that if he goes to them, they have the sense not to piss him off.”
I climbed under the covers of the bed I had chosen. I had undergone a blood transfusion last night. I needed my rest.
Gilchrist pulled back the covers on his own bed and placed a device that looked like a yellow space gun on one side before putting the covers back.
“What's that?” I asked.
“Insurance,” he said. “It's a UV drug detection gun. It bounces ultra-violet light off of surfaces and back into the gun, enabling it to read the tiniest traces of the chemicals used to make methamphetamines. Good for busting meth dens and for freezing vampires.” He sat on the foot of the bed and pulled off his work boots before heading to the bathroom to wash his face. When he came back, his blue chamois work shirt was draped over his arm and he was wearing a worn, but clean undershirt. I could see more scars on his arms than just the vampire bite he had shown us on Sunday.
He picked up the TV remote.
“Don't,” I begged.
“We need to know if he got out.”
“We can watch the news tomorrow. Please. Just... can I sleep one night without having to think about how many people I got killed?”
Gilchrist nodded. “Alright. Goodnight, kid.”
“Goodnight.” I whispered, closing my eyes. “Thank you.”
I dreamt of Cody that night. We were laying in bed, dressed in flannel pajama pants and our college t-shirts. We were talking; I'm not sure about what. Then we were making love. The touch of his hands on my arms felt warm and real. When I opened my eyes and looked into his, he had changed. Rawdon stared back at me. His touch was so cold that it burnt my skin. I screamed and fought, but he held on to me.
I woke up in my bedroom. My body was being pressed into my bed. My lungs were constricted. I couldn't move. I couldn't draw enough breath to scream. He was standing at the foot of the bed. He was climbing over me, pressing loving kisses to my legs and hips while I fought to move my limbs and scream.
I awoke with Gilchrist sitting fully dressed on the bed next to mine, staring at me. I sat up, rubbing the sleepy seeds out of my eyes with the odd feeling like someone had just walked in on me naked. Was he watching me sleep? Did I talk in my sleep?
“Twenty three.”
“Don't care. You're still an obnoxious teenager to me.”
When we pulled up outside the Plains Hotel, Gilchrist went around the side of the building to scout it out, and I quickly changed. He sent me in to rent a room. When I came back with the key, Gilchrist had loaded three large bags onto his own back and left mine in the car for me to worry about.
“Why did we pick the historic hotel?” I asked. “Isn't that a bad idea?”
“Nope. It's a great idea. It's the perfect location for my plan.”
We hurried into the building. Gilchrist seemed to struggle with one of the bags, but when I tried to help him, he snapped. “Don't touch it,” he said. “You break this one, our defenses are down.”
We entered a room decorated with barn red bedspreads and statuettes of cowboys. There were two double beds and Gilchrist set the bags on the bed closest to the door and extracted a small, red generator. He set to work starting it up. When it was purring softly (or softly for a generator) he placed it at the open window to ventilate. I watched, unmoving, as he pulled out a pair of light fixtures with long thin bulbs and hooked them up to the generator.
“Are we sleeping with the lights on?” I asked.
“Would you prefer to wake up in a casket?”
I sat down on the bed closest to the window. “I suppose sleeping in broad daylight is better.”
“Good. We'll make it through the night and tomorrow we'll talk about how we're going to get rid of him for good.”
“What about my family?” I asked.
“You'll only worry them if you call them. The less they know, the safer they are. Staying away is the best you can do for them. You're just going to have to hope and pray that if he goes to them, they have the sense not to piss him off.”
I climbed under the covers of the bed I had chosen. I had undergone a blood transfusion last night. I needed my rest.
Gilchrist pulled back the covers on his own bed and placed a device that looked like a yellow space gun on one side before putting the covers back.
“What's that?” I asked.
“Insurance,” he said. “It's a UV drug detection gun. It bounces ultra-violet light off of surfaces and back into the gun, enabling it to read the tiniest traces of the chemicals used to make methamphetamines. Good for busting meth dens and for freezing vampires.” He sat on the foot of the bed and pulled off his work boots before heading to the bathroom to wash his face. When he came back, his blue chamois work shirt was draped over his arm and he was wearing a worn, but clean undershirt. I could see more scars on his arms than just the vampire bite he had shown us on Sunday.
He picked up the TV remote.
“Don't,” I begged.
“We need to know if he got out.”
“We can watch the news tomorrow. Please. Just... can I sleep one night without having to think about how many people I got killed?”
Gilchrist nodded. “Alright. Goodnight, kid.”
“Goodnight.” I whispered, closing my eyes. “Thank you.”
I dreamt of Cody that night. We were laying in bed, dressed in flannel pajama pants and our college t-shirts. We were talking; I'm not sure about what. Then we were making love. The touch of his hands on my arms felt warm and real. When I opened my eyes and looked into his, he had changed. Rawdon stared back at me. His touch was so cold that it burnt my skin. I screamed and fought, but he held on to me.
I woke up in my bedroom. My body was being pressed into my bed. My lungs were constricted. I couldn't move. I couldn't draw enough breath to scream. He was standing at the foot of the bed. He was climbing over me, pressing loving kisses to my legs and hips while I fought to move my limbs and scream.
I awoke with Gilchrist sitting fully dressed on the bed next to mine, staring at me. I sat up, rubbing the sleepy seeds out of my eyes with the odd feeling like someone had just walked in on me naked. Was he watching me sleep? Did I talk in my sleep?
Similar Books
