Outcast, page 4
Beatrice stopped, her back still turned to him. Her hooded head slowly angled his way until she was looking at him from an angle, a half-grin on her face.
“I’ll come with you,” he said. And he meant it. But it would always be his intention to return home and live in solitude.
At this, Beatrice turned around and faced him again.
“That was a quick change in decision,” she said, stepping lightly over to him again. “But Draven demands complete loyalty, Leif. And to me, you don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to vampire loyalty.”
You mean I refused to join you after you turned me into a blood sucking monster?
Leif wanted to say it, but he held his tongue. Instead, he nodded his head toward the unmoving form of Susannah and said, “The hunters asked me about him. Who is Draven?”
“The greatest vampire in the history of the world,” she said with admiration. “He has brought vampires from all across the world together, uniting us in such a way that has never happened before. He even runs a school, bringing in recruits who are ideal for turning.”
A vampire school. An organized collection of their kind. And all for stealing away ideal humans? For what purpose? And — to a vampire — what characteristics defined an ideal human?
Beatrice glanced down at the box of old blood bags and lifted one up. A look of disgust grew on her face. “This is what they’ve been feeding you?”
“It’s better than nothing,” he replied, kicking at the bag that had spilled within his cage.
“I suppose that’s true enough. Let’s get you out of there.”
Dropping the blood bag back in the box, Beatrice began walking around Leif’s copper cage, her hand resting on her chin while a finger tapped her lips.
“Reinforced copper,” she said. “Two-inch bars. Yeah, there was no way you were getting yourself out of here.” She circled to the back. “Here’s the door. It’s got a thick sliding lock, also made of copper.” Beatrice shook her head. “I was wrong. It would have hurt like crazy, but if you’d been desperate enough, Leif, you probably could’ve gotten out of here.”
And to think that he had been willing to attempt to crash through the bars opposite from the door, risking his own death. He felt stupid for not having analyzed his prison with a little more detail.
She pulled the backpack from her shoulders, crouching low as she undid its drawstring. “I brought bolt cutters. And while I could simply just knock the lock up and over, I really hate the idea of other hunters reusing this place.” She looked past Leif at the nearest vampire who’d been shot by Susannah’s gun.
Beatrice set her jaw. “Hey, you aren’t going to run out on me this time, are you? If I set you free, you really will come with me?”
The question brought back a flood of memories — memories of courting her at the boarding house. One thing had been true: she’d been the one to randomly disappear. Her surprise return had ended with him becoming a vampire.
“I said I would, and I mean it,” he said. But that doesn’t mean I’m with you.
She looked back at him and bobbed her head. “You better. We could really use you.” Their eyes locked, and he knew what she really meant. She could really use him.
“That’s Landon,” she said, gesturing to the vampire who had died first. “The other was Brandon. They were twins. They were turned three years ago. They were strategists — they had this placed marked months ago, and these hunters didn’t even know it. They figured out all of the copper booby traps outside and are the reason we were able to get in here so easily. Losing them hurts the entire vampire community.” Her eyes went distant. “Three years as vampires… they thought they had the rest of eternity to live.” Beatrice shook her head, returning her attention to Leif. “But gaining you will make their sacrifice worth it.”
Leif wondered at just how much value he’d bring to a community of vampires. He’d been living day-to-day without paying much attention to the ever-changing world. Beyond caring for an orchard, he had little skill in anything else.
“Once you’re free, take one of their backpacks,” Beatrice said. “They both brought bolt cutters, too. The sooner we can set these other vampires free, the sooner we can leave.”
Leif nodded in understanding.
He knew that while copper wasn’t the strongest metal, two inches of it would be tough to cut through. At least for humans. Leif watched as Beatrice made short work of the first of the thick bars. The copper was no match for the super strength of a vampire. It was as if she were pruning a tree, just like he’d done so many times in the Frosts’ orchard.
A snip at the top and bottom caused the pole to fall outward, clanging with vibration as it struck the concrete floor. Beatrice moved on to the next few, and soon she’d created an opening large enough for Leif to step out of.
“The brooch in your pocket,” he said, not wanting to wait any longer to carry it again. “It belongs to me.”
Beatrice shifted her brown eyes to him, the bolt cutters falling slowly to her side. With her left hand, she extracted the pendant from her pocket. “This old trinket is yours?”
“Yes,” he said. It took all of his will not to lunge for it. He didn’t want Beatrice to know she had that kind of power over him. He gestured toward Susannah lying dead on the floor. “The woman hunter — she stole it from me.”
“I see,” said Beatrice, studying it once more.
Leif was convinced this wasn’t going to end well. She’d see his walls breaking down with worry. But he needed the brooch — couldn’t live without it.
“Family heirloom?” she guessed, bringing her eyes back up to his.
“You could say that,” he replied, feeling his hands clench with anxiety.
And then she handed it to him, saying, “It’s pretty.”
Leif took it graciously, his anxiety evaporating like steam. He was shocked it had been that easy.
“Thank you, Beatrice,” he said, gripping the brooch as if he’d never let go of it again. “It means a lot to me.”
“No problem,” she said. “Oh, and by the way, you don’t have to call me Beatrice. That’s way too formal. You can call me Bea.”
He blinked a few times, trying to process the familiarity. Leif couldn’t withhold the memory that emerged. His mind sent him back to the Frost Boarding House, the very day he’d first arrived.
“You can call me Bea.” The girl held out a dirt-encrusted hand just off of the boarding house porch. Her big brown eyes were mesmerizing, and she seemed to be about the same age as he was — maybe fifteen or sixteen? She was wearing a wide-brimmed hat made of straw. Several parts of it had been poked through, likely by accident. Beneath her hat sat white-blonde shoulder-length hair, and a small tuft of loose bangs poked out, wind-scattered and messy. Sweat was running down her face. Even as scruffy and dirty as she appeared, there was a welcoming warmness and beauty about her. Leif felt his heartbeat speed up and his cheeks grew red with heat. She was extremely pretty, and he froze.
She cleared her throat. “You said your name was Leif?”
He stared awkwardly, unable to stop himself. Finally, he let loose an uneasy chuckle. “Pardon me. I was just noticing you… I noticed that your hands are a little dirty.” He of course had noticed this, but he’d noticed a lot more than that. He would not tell her that, though. Had he even looked at her hands during this embarrassing moment? He didn’t think so.
Daft fruit picker! he chastised himself
Bea looked down at her hands and blushed. “Oh, forgive me!” She hurriedly dusted them off on her trousers, which seemed baggy and altogether too large for her wiry frame. “I help with the grounds here at the boarding house.” Once again, she reached her hand out to him.
He did not hesitate this time, but gratefully took her hand in his. Despite the remnants of dirt, her skin felt soft against his, as if she had not been grounds keeping for very long.
“I am glad to meet you, Bea,” he said.
“It is a pleasure to meet you too, Leif,” she replied. “Mr. Frost said you would be arriving today, and that you will be assigned to care for his new orchard back behind the house.”
Leif nodded. That had been the agreement he and Mr. Frost had come to, first in verbal communication, and then finality of contract through post. The process had taken a few weeks, and it had been a miracle that the opportunity had been handed to him.
Leif had grown up learning how to care for and tend several orchards his father and uncles owned. It had taught him hard work: the time and effort invested in masterful orchard care led to a greater reward in fruit bearing.
Two months ago, the Frosts had traveled down to California, and as part of their trip, they had stopped in Santa Rosa with the intent to see some of the famous local orchards.
“My boy Leif will show you around,” his father had said. “Not like he has anything better to do.”
For fifteen years, Leif had gotten used to the belittling of his parents. It was as natural to him as breathing air or drinking water. But he’d never gotten used to the physical beatings of his father. And they occurred almost daily, usually about something that had nothing to do with him.
Leif had complied with his father’s assignment, eager to get away for a short while at the very least.
The Frosts’ daughter, Camilla, kept pace with Leif as he led them through the nearest orchard, which happened to be full of peach trees.
“Could I try one?” Camilla had said, pointing at one of the lower-hanging peaches. She was a few years younger than Leif, but he’d enjoyed her company. He’d never had any siblings, and the way she tagged along made him feel a sense of responsibility, even with her parents right behind.
“Sure,” Leif had replied, leading them over to the thick-trunked peach tree. “We are getting closer to harvest season, so they might still be a little firm. But their sweetness should be just right.”
Camilla’s brown hair danced as she skipped over to the lower branches, studying them out to see which one she should choose.
“Would you like to try a peach as well, Mr. and Mrs. Frost?” he had offered.
“Would your father approve of such a sampling?” Mrs. Frost had asked.
“Of course.” That had actually been a lie. To his father, every piece of fruit was a measurement of money or trade. But Leif had been certain his father would never find out about three missing peaches.
Leif had picked the softest peaches he could find and handed them to the Frosts.
They had continued on as they ate their fruit. Leif had described day-to-day work, what went in to managing an orchard, and admitted that his knowledge ended with the finality of picking the fruit. The business side was something his father took care of.
“You know your stuff, kid,” Mr. Frost had said. “How would your parents react if I were to offer you a job up by the Columbia River?”
“You could come and live with us,” Camilla had said.
“We have a spare room, and the missus is a fine cook,” he’d added.
It was at this point Leif had completely and entirely trusted them, and told them about his abusive home life, showing them the bruises he’d kept concealed under his shirt sleeves and pant legs.
“I want to come with you,” he’d said.
But they hadn’t been ready for him then. They were now.
“I had expected you to be much older,” Bea said. “What is your age?”
“I am fifteen years old. Almost sixteen.”
Bea’s eyes widened. “A fifteen year-old orchard master? That is quite impressive.”
“How old are you?” Leif asked.
“Sixteen years old,” she answered. “But I am a lowly grounds keeper. I simply make sure everything looks nice out here. So you are a master and I am a keeper. Master sounds much more prestigious, especially for a fifteen year-old.”
Leif laughed, and so did Bea.
“Welcome to the Frost Boarding House, Leif,” she said. Her slim lips formed a beautiful smile that gave him goosebumps. “Maybe our jobs will give us some time to get to know each other better.”
“I would like that,” Leif said, his heart aflutter.
“Hello?”
Leif was pulled from the memory like a peach from a tree.
“Hey, Leif, everything okay?”
It was Beatrice, not too much older than the girl he’d just seen in memory. And she was smiling that same smile.
But Leif no longer found it beautiful. That smile concealed the fangs that had turned him into a vampire.
You need to steal away. It was Gemma’s voice, and she sounded panicked and urgent. You must not trust her.
“Sorry,” he stammered, looking away as he rubbed at his head. “I… zoned out for a bit.”
She looked at him as if she expected him to do it again. “Yeah, you did. Are you going to help me with the other cages, or what?”
Leif shifted his weight. “Yeah, of course. I just need…”
“Brandon and Landon won’t mind you taking their gear now,” she said, moving on to the next closest cage. Addressing the captive, she said, “James! I’m glad to see you still alive, though you look like you haven’t had a bloody drink in years. I drained the female hunter dry, but the male should still have some dregs left in him. And when you’re done, grab Brandon’s bolt cutters. We gotta hurry.”
Leif watched her with disgust as she continued her work. How could she be so careless about life? It almost seemed like she expected casualties and that it was easy to move on without feeling the sting of death.
His thoughts were wrenched away as he saw James dart for the unanimated form of George. To most vampires, it probably seemed like a waste to let a bunch of fresh blood just go to waste with a body that had been dead for mere minutes. To Leif, it seemed like desecration. He’d rather drink from the stale blood bags sitting in the nearby box.
Getting his mind back into the situation, Leif walked around the cage and paused at the still form of Landon. Crouching down, it was hard not to look at the hole in the vampire’s head where the bullet had taken his life. Swallowing with difficulty, Leif struggled to remove the backpack from the corpse. getting back to his feet and shouldering it.
“This is messed up,” he said, moving to the cage opposite the one Beatrice was working on.
“Tell me about it,” she replied, the twang of metal on metal echoing in the open warehouse as she clipped the next vampire free.
Leif looked up at the vampire in the cage he was approaching. She was female and hadn’t made a sound the entire time. Her dark hair was cut short and there was a wildness in her hazel eyes that somehow made him feel threatened.
“Hello there,” he said awkwardly, avoiding any more eye contact as he removed the backpack and unzipped it to get to the bolt cutters.
He could feel her eyes on him like twin flashlights, and he hesitated while holding the bolt cutters. She seemed manic… would she attack him after she was set free? How would he defend himself against another vampire? He’d never fought one before.
“She likes you,” the caged vampire whispered.
Leif looked up at her to find her bearing a hard smile.
“I beg your pardon?”
The vampire nodded in Beatrice’s direction. “Bea — she likes you. I can see it on her face. But you? You don’t like her.”
Leif bent over, opening the bolt cutters and placing the wide, sharp clips on either side of one of the reddish bars.
“That’s some interesting conjecture,” Leif said. “Did you read all of that just by looking at our faces?”
With all his strength, he slammed the handles together, cutting through one of the metal bars like a fang to a jugular vein.
“Facial expressions and body language are like storybooks,” she said. “Most people just don’t take the time to read them.”
Leif reached up and cut the same bar at the top of the cage, and it fell toward him. He quickly dodged out of the way, realizing just how painful it would have been had it landed on him. One down. He only needed to chop three more to make the opening safe enough for this crazy girl to escape. Looking behind him, he could see that James had moved away from George’s body and was working on cutting the other vampires free, along with Beatrice.
“My name is Amber,” she said.
You need to steal away, Leif, Gemma said again.
“I cannot,” he whispered.
“Cannot what?” Amber asked curiously.
Leif glared at her for the intrusive question. He knew others couldn’t hear Gemma, but he’d grown accustomed to responding to her verbally. Decades ago, he started to wonder if her voice was actually his own, but he’d since thrown that possibility by the wayside. He needed those thoughts to be her voice. If he was going to start being around other people, he’d have to start communicating with her nonverbally.
“I cannot wait to be away from this wretched place,” he said quickly, cutting another bar free.
“I’ve been here for three months,” she said. “You haven’t even been here a full day.”
“Then I bet you cannot wait to get away from this wretched place, either.”
At last, she was free, and Leif moved on to the next cage. He could feel her hot on his tail, trailing him like a shadow.
He worked more quickly this time, wanting to be done with this rescue operation he’d never intended on being a part of.
A mild distant ringing pulled Leif’s attention away from his gate cutting. Beatrice stopped as well, giving him an anxious look.
“Sirens,” she hissed. “Somebody probably heard the hunter’s gunshots and called the cops.”
Panic struck Leif like a copper bullet. “This is exactly why I go it alone. I never have to deal with cops and guns.”
“Stop whining, Leif,” she said. “And speed up. We aren’t leaving any vampire behind.”
The bolt cutters were suddenly wrenched away from him.
“I’ll take care of it,” Amber said, making rapid cuts with remarkable precision. “I know you don’t wish to return with us to Draven and his school. If there was a time for you to leave Bea behind and return to solitude, it’s now.”
