Vampires Never Get Old, page 4
“Kitchen closes in thirty,” I say when I’m standing in front of him. I’m on server duty because it’s Neveah’s night off. I hold up my order pad, pen poised.
“Nothing I want is on the menu,” he says, his voice a soft drawl. He tips up his hat, shows his face, and I suck in a startled breath. If you asked me to describe him, I couldn’t do it. But the curve of his lips, the narrow slide of his nose, the sharp cut of his cheeks. It was a kind of perfection—that much I know.
“Are you on TV?” I blurt. Because no one who looks like this boy has ever come to Blood River before.
He laughs, and even that’s beautiful, like the rush of a cold wind on the first day of autumn or the roll of thunder on a hot summer night.
“Naw,” he says. “I’m not on TV.”
I look over my shoulder, for what I don’t know. A witness, a hidden camera. Jason and the twins playing a trick on me.
“You called to me, Lukas,” he drawls, “don’t you remember? You called me with my song and that dusty heart of yours.” He throws out his arm expansively. “You called all of us.”
I look behind me, again, and sure enough, walking down the aisle are three more boys, all a little older than me. They’re all wearing cowboy gear, hats and boots and broken-in denim, except for one kid who’s got on a backward baseball cap and oversized jeans.
“Allow me to introduce my brothers,” he says. “This is Jasper, and next to him is Willis. And that there is Dru. And I,” he says, with a tip of his hat, “am Silas.”
“Are you the…?” But I can’t bring myself to ask. I’m afraid if I say it aloud, they’ll laugh at me. Or disappear.
“What’s good in this joint?” Jasper asks, rattling a menu. He’s got a deep voice and some kind of accent I can’t quite place. His skin is the same shade as mine, and he’s got a head of dark hair under his hat.
“Menu’s about the same everywhere we go,” Willis says, laughing. His skin’s a shade darker that Jasper’s, and tight black curls peak from underneath his hat. His voice is high, nervous, and his black eyes flicker around the room.
“That it is, brother,” Silas says with a grin. He slaps a hand on the table. “Let’s go somewhere else.” He tilts his head. “Won’t you come with us, Lukas? Come share a meal.”
“Me?” I ask.
The boys laugh—well, Jasper and Willis do. The third boy, a redhead, says nothing. He seems agitated, knee shaking under the booth table.
“I-I’ve got to lock up,” I stutter.
“Then do that,” he says. “We’ll wait to eat with you.”
This makes Willis laugh and the redhead shake his head, but I don’t get the joke.
Then they’re all moving toward the entrance, languid and graceful as cats. I watch them go, convinced I’m hallucinating and will never see them again once they’re out the door. The tiny bell over the entrance rings as they slide out, one by one. Silas is last and he tips his hat to me as he crosses the threshold.
My heart is hammering in my chest and I’m not sure what to do, but I know I’ve got to go with them. I know it’s risky. I don’t know them, and they could have bad intentions, but something tells me … no, something inside me knows that they don’t. That they’re exactly who I think they are and they came because I called them and I’m meant to go with them if I ever want to be truly safe again.
“Cook,” I yell, rushing around the corner of the counter and pulling off my apron. “My ride’s here,” I shout, hoping he won’t remember I drive myself. “I gotta go.”
“What about cleanup?” he asks, sounding outraged.
“Not tonight,” I say, grinning. “I’ll owe you one.”
“You owe me about five,” he mutters, but I know he’ll do it. Despite his protests, I never ask him for favors.
“Thanks!”
I take a minute to rush to the bathroom, check my face in the mirror, wish desperately for another face, less brown, less skinny, less acne-prone, but then I remember what Silas said, that he came because my heart asked him to. I turn on the faucet, douse my face, and run a wet hand through my hair, trying to make it behave, and then I’m out the door …
… where I run smack into Jason Winters.
“Whoa,” he says with his fake laugh, grabbing me by the shoulders. “What’s the rush, Lukas?”
I freeze. I can feel his hands, too warm, the pressure of his fingers. I look around the parking lot, frantic. Where are Silas and the others? Where did they go?
“Did you see…,” I start to ask, and then remember who I’m talking to and snap my mouth shut.
Jason looks over his shoulder, and now I see he’s not alone. The Toad Twins are getting out of the back seat of his blue Chevy truck, laughing and heading our direction. Something catches in my throat. No, no, no. Not now.
“Look,” I say, the memory of Silas waiting for me somewhere out there, making me bold. “You can pound on my face another time. Right now, I’ve got to go.”
Jason points over my shoulder, back at the diner. “Says Landry’s is open another twenty minutes. Me and my boys just want to grab a quick bite. Surely you can help us with that. I mean, isn’t that your job?”
The twins have joined us, Tyler and Trey, and they laugh, that same automatic guffaw they always laugh for Jason. Like having a job is a joke.
“Cook’s still there. He can help you.”
His hands tighten on my shoulders. “I want you to help me.”
The way he says it stops me in my tracks even more than the heavy dig of his fingers into my flesh. His eyes meet mine, clear blue like the summer sky, and he smiles.
“I…”
“Oh my God,” one of the twins says, Tyler or Trey, “he’s gonna try to kiss you.”
I’m not. Of course I’m not, but my face still burns like it’s on fire. I open my mouth to protest, but I don’t get the chance.
The punch to my stomach is so swift I don’t realize he’s hit me until I’m bent over double, gasping for air. The second one comes a moment after, a fist to the side of my face just below where my eye’s still healing that leaves my ears ringing. I hit the gravel with a thud, the tiny gray pebbles digging into my cheek.
More laughter, and I brace myself for the kick that’s coming.
“Is there a problem here?”
I’m so wrapped up in my humiliation that it takes me a moment to recognize that voice. I roll my head to the side and look up. Silas is there, black boots and jacket and hat and that easy smile.
Jason sneers. “Mind your own business, cowboy,” he says.
“This here is my business. Lukas is my friend.”
The three high school boys laugh. “Lukas Loser? Well, I know you’re lying, because he doesn’t have any friends.”
Now the kick comes, right to my gut. It’s not as bad as it could have been, as it’s been before, but it’s enough to make me suck in a breath.
“I thought I asked you to stop,” Silas says, low and quiet.
“Or else what?” Jason puffs himself up, broad football player’s shoulders almost twice as wide as Silas’s slim build.
“Or else I’m going to kill you.”
I blink, thinking I must have heard wrong. But there’s Silas, cool as the evening air and looking unconcerned, like he’s not threatening, just stating facts.
Jason and the Toad Twins gape, first in shock, I think, but then like they’re gonna laugh. The other Blood River Boys come melting out of the night. Jasper, quiet and smiling, hands stuffed in his pockets. Willis, his eyes bright, and he chants, “Kill you dead, kill you dead,” in a breathy, high giggle. Dru dragging farthest behind, his cap turned around to face forward, hiding most of his face in the shadows.
Jason’s not a fool. Well, not that kind of fool, at least. He does the math, figures it’s four—five if you count me, but I’m sure he doesn’t—against him and the twins. He raises his hands.
“Sure. Fine. We don’t want any trouble. Just came to get something to eat.”
“Eat somewhere else from now on,” Jasper says in his low, rumbly voice.
“This diner’s closed … to you,” Silas echoes. “Permanently.”
Jason glances down at me, and I must be smiling because his face goes all dark and furious. “Later, loser,” he mutters, “when your rodeo-clown friends aren’t around.” And then he and the twins are making a hasty exit.
I laugh, I don’t even care that it makes his retreating shoulders tense up or that I’m definitely setting myself up for a worse beating when Silas isn’t around to save me. It’s worth it to see Jason get the smallest taste of the humiliation he doles out to me on the regular.
A hand comes down to help me up and I take it. Silas’s palm is cold, dry, and icy enough to burn. His skin has a glass-slick feel, his flesh stiff. He pulls me to my feet like I weigh less than I do.
“You all right?” he says, dusting me off. His hands on my body make me nervous, but he acts like he doesn’t notice. He looks concerned, like he really cares what happens to me.
“Thanks,” I say. “You saved me.” And he did, in more ways than one.
He presses a cold palm to my cheek, and for the first time our eyes meet. His are a swirl of color, impossible eyes, eyes like deep pools, a child’s kaleidoscope. My breath catches hard in my throat and my legs feel unsteady. Something passes between us, electric and intense. I sway and he steadies me. “Anything for a brother,” he drawls, hand still cupping my face.
“Shoulda killed them,” Willis says.
“Not now,” Silas murmurs over his shoulder.
“He’s right,” Jasper rumbles. “Now we’ll have to hunt. I need to hunt. Now.”
I frown. “What does he mean?”
“Nothing.” Silas smiles at me and I feel a flutter in my chest, like my heart wants to answer him with a matching grin. “We’ve got to go.” He drops his hand and steps away. “See you again, soon, Lukas. You get home. Take care of that mother of yours. She needs you.”
“How do you know about my mother?”
“You told me.”
“I didn’t…”
“See you again soon.”
And then they’re backing into the night, disappearing into the darkness like they never were. My face throbs where I took the punch and I’ve got a dull ache in my stomach, but I’ve never been happier in my life. Pretty sure I could float home. But instead I climb into my car and head home, singing that song the whole way.
* * *
When I pull into the drive, there’s someone on the porch. My pulse ticks up, thinking it might be Silas, even though I just left him at the diner, but it’s a woman. Middle-aged and looking tired, her cardigan pulled tight around her shoulders against the fall chill. She seems familiar, but I can’t quite place why.
“Are you Lukas?” she asks, as soon as I’m within shouting range.
“Yeah. Who are you? And what are you doing at my house at midnight?”
“Delia Day, and I’m sorry about the time,” she says. “I’m the patient advocate and social worker at the Bennet City hospital.”
That’s how I know her. And there’s only one reason she would be here at this time of night. “My mom?” I ask, my throat tightening. “Is my mom okay?”
“I’m afraid not, Lukas. You better come inside.” Her voice is kind. Too kind. It’s the voice professionals use when they’re about to give you bad news.
I freeze, not wanting to get any closer.
“Is she at the hospital?” I ask. I’m shaking. When did I start shaking? “Can I go see her?”
Delia rubs at her arms. “Why don’t you come inside? We can talk about it there.”
And I know. Right then I know exactly what’s she going to say. And I don’t want to hear it, because hearing it makes it true.
I stumble back to my car. Delia Day is calling my name. I make it down the drive, back onto the street. I don’t know where I’m going, what I’m running from, what I’m running to. All I know is I’m running.
* * *
The funeral is short. Mom was adopted and didn’t have any brothers or sisters. After she grew up, she lost touch with her adopted family, and my dad was never a presence in our lives, so it really was just her and me.
And now it’s just me.
Nobody comes to the funeral except Delia from the hospital and the county assessor to hand me an envelope I don’t want to open and a few folks from the church I don’t even know but who seem all right. Landry sends her condolences, but she’s at the diner, working.
Once everyone’s gone and it’s just me and the fresh grave and the twilight of nightfall, he shows up. He’s wearing the same boots, the same denim, the same hat, which he holds in his slender hands. The breeze ruffles his black hair almost playfully. It just turns mine into a windblown mess.
“Where’s the rest of them?” I ask before he’s even close.
He stops next to me, eyes on my mother’s grave. “Thought maybe it would be best if it’s just you and me.”
I look over. Stare at the slope of his nose, the fullness of his mouth. My breath hitches, and he smiles.
“The Boys can be a little much,” he admits. “Sorry if they scared you.”
“They saved me,” I say in a rush. “You saved me.”
“Jason Winters won’t bother you anymore.” He says it with such conviction that I almost believe him. But Jason’s been bullying me since I was in fourth grade. He’s not going to stop just because a couple of cowboys told him to.
“He’ll just wait until you’re gone,” I say quietly, feeling like I’m disappointing him by saying it.
He looks at me, eyes crinkling. “You really are something, Lukas.” His voice is wistful, maybe amused, but I don’t think he means it as an insult.
We stand there in silence until I say, “I’m alone now.”
“You don’t have to be.”
It’s what I wanted him to say, but I didn’t dare hope. I want to shout at him to take me away, get me out of this town, away from the diner and the bullies and my empty house. But instead I ask, “What do I have to do?”
“Share a meal.”
“What does that mean?”
He looks down, beats his hat against his thigh. “What do you think it means, Lukas?”
I close my eyes. “How? How do I…?”
He touches my shoulder briefly. “We’ll take care of that. Just be at the diner tonight at closing. You come if you want to join us. If you don’t, no harm and we’ll be on our way.”
“You’ll leave?” I ask, startled, my mouth suddenly dry. “Just like that?”
“Only if you want. You called us, remember? And we only stay where we’re wanted.”
Relief floods through me, traitorous and unasked for. I can’t imagine Silas gone now. What I’d do. Where I’d go. Something about him makes me feel safe, feel wanted. Feel not so alone.
The wind moves through the gravestones, tossing the leaves around. He slips his hat back on.
“The diner,” he repeats. “Closing.”
And then he’s gone.
* * *
I pull into Landry’s parking lot at a quarter to midnight. The lights are low, and the place looks locked up, only there are people moving around inside, so I know somebody’s in there. I spot a figure lurking by the door and I think it must be Silas, but as I get closer, I can see it’s Dru. He’s got a baseball bat and is swinging it idly as he waits. I remember Brandon saying something about the Finley guy being a big baseball player, and things click together.
Dru looks at me, long and hard, pale skin cold in the lamplight and dark red hair slicked back. Last time I saw him he was wearing a baseball cap, but tonight he’s bareheaded. I shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny.
“Why?” he asks suddenly, and it’s the first time I’ve heard him speak.
I shrug, pretty sure what he’s asking. “Same as everyone, I guess.”
“We’ve all got different reasons. Jasper did it for revenge, me because we didn’t make state and I thought I wanted to die.” He chuckles under his breath, like he can’t believe he was ever so foolish. “Willis lost his mind after they killed his wife, and Silas…”
“Why did you have to murder your family, though?” I ask quickly, cutting him off. I’m not sure I want to know why Silas did it. What if it’s for terrible reasons? Reasons worse that wanting a family, not wanting to be alone.
He blinks. “You think I killed my family? For this?” he asks, incredulous. He laughs a shallow, wheezy laugh. “Five blood bags, one for each of you and two for me, Silas told me.”
A shiver runs across my neck. “Silas wouldn’t say that.”
“What do you know about Silas?” he scoffs. “He’s taking it easy on you, don’t know why, what makes you so special.” He swallows noisily, eyes lost in memory. “He didn’t go so easy on me.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
Before he can answer, Silas comes to the door.
“You made it,” he said, his smile expansive, like I’m on time to his party. “Come on in.” He ushers me through the entrance, leaving Dru to follow. I hear him turn the lock behind me. I look back, alarmed.
“So we aren’t disturbed,” Silas says, arm sliding around my shoulders as he leads me in. “I think you know everyone,” he says, gesturing around the diner. Dru with his bat and Willis and Jasper on stools, leaning against the counter.
“Listen,” I tell him, voice steady with the words I practiced in the car on the drive over. “I know what this is about. What you are.” Thinking of what Dru said moments ago, I add, “You don’t have to be easy on me.”
Silas pauses, leans his head to the side like he’s listening.
I go on in a rush. “I figured it out. What you said about Jason not bothering me anymore, and before, saying you’d kill him if he laid a finger on me again. And I know the stories, about the massacre. And Dru’s family.” My eyes cut briefly to his. His face is stony, giving nothing away, and for a minute I think maybe I’ve misunderstood, that what I’m saying likely sounds certifiable, but I barrel on anyway. “And I want you to know I’m okay with that. I’m okay with … sharing a meal.”
