Page 44 of Missing Moon
I reach out and take her hand.
“If you’re a vampire, what are you doing out here in the daytime?”
“I’m notthatkind of vampire anymore.” I rush a brief explanation of psychic vampires vs. bloodsuckers… and tack on at the end that the creatures running around Klamath are something different still. Definitely undead though. More savage—but no attached souls.
“I dunno…” Gwen bites her lip. “I kinda knew he was dead already. I mean, he wouldn’t have just left. Figured some crazy person tried to rob him and shot him out in the middle of nowhere where the law wouldn’t really bother to go looking. Vampires, though? You are serious?”
I consider how to prove it to her—and get an idea.
“Come outside real quick.”
Gwen hesitantly follows me out onto the front deck and down the stairs. I walk over to Mack’s old Bronco, grab the back bumper… and lift the rear driver side wheel off the ground, though damn, this thing is freakin’ heavy. They used to make cars out of metal, after all. While I don’t exactly make it look effortless, the fact that I moved it at all has Gwen gawking. I ease the truck back down, then dust my hands off.
“There. That isn’t normal, is it?” I say.
She just stares.
Oh boy. Did I break her? Some people just can’t handle facing evidence that the supernatural is real. Most will dismiss it and pretend they didn’t see whatever they saw, then go about the rest of their lives trying to forget. Some crack and become unglued. I’m starting to regret being so honest with Gwen. Luckily, I can wipe her memory if need be.
“Son of a bitch. You’re not making this up.”
“Nope.”
“You killed Mack?”
“Not exactly.” I bow my head. “He was trapped inside a sort of zombie vampire—I’m still not too clear about what’s going on up here. Be that as it may, he was helpless to stop the forces controlling him. After I put his body to rest, his ghost appeared and talked to me for a few minutes. He was worried about you and asked me to speak with you.”
Gwendolyn stares at me, her face stuck halfway between rage and grief. It doesn’t feel like the rage is directed at me.
“You came out here to hunt the bastard who attacked Mack?”
“Not exactly. I came out here because my father’s dying of lung cancer,” I say in a somber tone. “But… once I found out that there’s something crazy going on out here, yeah, I’m planning to hunt the creature down.”
Gwen hugs me again. “I’m so sorry about your dad.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“You’re going to destroy the bastard who did this to Mack?”
I rest a hand on her shoulder. “I will do everything in my power to take him out.”
She goes grim-faced and looks at me. “I want to know. When you get that bastard, could you come tell me it’s over?”
“You’ll be the first to hear about it.”
Gwen lets out a long sigh. “I should get going. People are waiting on me to open the doors. Mack would want me to keep the Monarch going.”
“I’m sure he would.”
“Need a ride anywhere, Sam? I don’t see a car.”
“I’m okay.” Oh hell with it. She’s in this deep. “I can teleport home.”
With her looking right at me, I summon the single flame and leap back to my old bedroom.
Chapter Eighteen
Dust Piles