to have a kid, Edie. Just promise me that you’ll be happy,” she said, and I nodded. I could do that. “And that you’ll try to look out for Jake.”
That was easier said than done. I didn’t want to make promises I had no interest in keeping. Looking into her face, though, what else could I say? “I’ll try.” The same promise she’d made me. It was the only thing I could say that wouldn’t stick in my throat.
“Thanks, honey,” my mom said. She opened the door and pulled herself upright by its handle. Leaning back in, she kissed my cheek with her sour stomach-acid breath and then walked out, leaving me alone.
* * *
After I’d said good night, I got into my car. First thing, I checked through my purse—which I’d unwisely left in the hallway alone while I’d been taking care of my mother—to make sure all my cash and ID were still there. They were. Maybe even the great and selfish Jake had been humbled into pure living by Mom’s cancer. Or, more likely, he’d already shaken down my mom for money before I’d gotten there, and she’d leniently given in.
I drove home and got ready for bed. Today had been too long. I’d showered earlier, so all I had to do was brush my teeth and crawl under my sheets.
I still took an Ambien. My body wasn’t used to switching to days yet, and if you could harness the power of sleep into a convenient pill form, you’d take it too, wouldn’t you? Especially if you didn’t want to lie there and think. None of the things I had to think about were good.
* * *
I was woken by a thump outside my door. A glance out the window proved it was still night—the middle of the night even. Full streetlight, no haziness of dawn. I closed my eyes. It was nothing, or a neighbor. Sleep had released me momentarily, but if I waited here quietly, it would retake hold.
Another thump. And then a third. They weren’t knocks—definitely thumps. I reached for my phone. It was three A.M.
I still felt bleary from the Ambien. People saw things on Ambien, and drove cars up telephone poles. Was this Ambien, or was it real?
Another thump. I looked down, and Minnie was at the foot of my bed, standing up, looking into the hallway with concern. The sound was real. She leapt off the bed and dove underneath. That sealed it.
I got up and went as quietly as I could to the door, which actually wasn’t very quiet as I stumbled along in my hall. Walking on Ambien was like walking on a boat. I didn’t have any windows out to the second-floor landing, just the peephole. I pressed my hands to the door and leaned forward.
My outside light was on, casting something gray in shadow. The peephole’s refraction made it hard to see what was really there; it kept focusing in on individual parts instead of the whole. Or maybe that was just me, woken against my will, the Ambien refracting my vision. I concentrated, hard.
Another thump, and I jumped back. Dammit. I still couldn’t see. And I didn’t dare open my door.
There was a whuffling sound of disgust, a massive indignant snort, the sort of thing you’d think a T. rex would do. And then one final angry thump, and the sound of something padding down the stairs.
I assumed it was the last thump. It’d had that sort of pissed-off quality. But really, there was no way of knowing. I waited for a time, and neither the sound nor the creature came back.
I made a short list of things that would be able to find me, cross-matched with things that looked like what I’d partly seen outside my door, and came up with an answer I didn’t like very much.
Jorgen.
Fuck me.
On my way back to bed, I pulled my decorative silver cross off my wall.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It would have been easy for Jorgen to find me, no matter where I moved. He knew what I smelled like. He was a vampire’s Hound now—it was his job.
He hadn’t started off as a Hound, though—he’d been a minor werewolf, a human bitten on a full moon night. This past winter
That was easier said than done. I didn’t want to make promises I had no interest in keeping. Looking into her face, though, what else could I say? “I’ll try.” The same promise she’d made me. It was the only thing I could say that wouldn’t stick in my throat.
“Thanks, honey,” my mom said. She opened the door and pulled herself upright by its handle. Leaning back in, she kissed my cheek with her sour stomach-acid breath and then walked out, leaving me alone.
* * *
After I’d said good night, I got into my car. First thing, I checked through my purse—which I’d unwisely left in the hallway alone while I’d been taking care of my mother—to make sure all my cash and ID were still there. They were. Maybe even the great and selfish Jake had been humbled into pure living by Mom’s cancer. Or, more likely, he’d already shaken down my mom for money before I’d gotten there, and she’d leniently given in.
I drove home and got ready for bed. Today had been too long. I’d showered earlier, so all I had to do was brush my teeth and crawl under my sheets.
I still took an Ambien. My body wasn’t used to switching to days yet, and if you could harness the power of sleep into a convenient pill form, you’d take it too, wouldn’t you? Especially if you didn’t want to lie there and think. None of the things I had to think about were good.
* * *
I was woken by a thump outside my door. A glance out the window proved it was still night—the middle of the night even. Full streetlight, no haziness of dawn. I closed my eyes. It was nothing, or a neighbor. Sleep had released me momentarily, but if I waited here quietly, it would retake hold.
Another thump. And then a third. They weren’t knocks—definitely thumps. I reached for my phone. It was three A.M.
I still felt bleary from the Ambien. People saw things on Ambien, and drove cars up telephone poles. Was this Ambien, or was it real?
Another thump. I looked down, and Minnie was at the foot of my bed, standing up, looking into the hallway with concern. The sound was real. She leapt off the bed and dove underneath. That sealed it.
I got up and went as quietly as I could to the door, which actually wasn’t very quiet as I stumbled along in my hall. Walking on Ambien was like walking on a boat. I didn’t have any windows out to the second-floor landing, just the peephole. I pressed my hands to the door and leaned forward.
My outside light was on, casting something gray in shadow. The peephole’s refraction made it hard to see what was really there; it kept focusing in on individual parts instead of the whole. Or maybe that was just me, woken against my will, the Ambien refracting my vision. I concentrated, hard.
Another thump, and I jumped back. Dammit. I still couldn’t see. And I didn’t dare open my door.
There was a whuffling sound of disgust, a massive indignant snort, the sort of thing you’d think a T. rex would do. And then one final angry thump, and the sound of something padding down the stairs.
I assumed it was the last thump. It’d had that sort of pissed-off quality. But really, there was no way of knowing. I waited for a time, and neither the sound nor the creature came back.
I made a short list of things that would be able to find me, cross-matched with things that looked like what I’d partly seen outside my door, and came up with an answer I didn’t like very much.
Jorgen.
Fuck me.
On my way back to bed, I pulled my decorative silver cross off my wall.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It would have been easy for Jorgen to find me, no matter where I moved. He knew what I smelled like. He was a vampire’s Hound now—it was his job.
He hadn’t started off as a Hound, though—he’d been a minor werewolf, a human bitten on a full moon night. This past winter
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