Page 8

Simon eyed me from the top of the magazine. “Oh joy. She wants to talk.” He threw the magazine down on the table between us. Without any fanfare, he sat back and said, “He killed my mother.”
My eyes rounded, and I felt the gasp leave my throat before I could temper it. “No,” I said to him, already shaking my head. My grandfather was a lot of things, but he was not a murderer. What he said was impossible.
“It’s true,” Simon said, his eyes darkening. A chill went up my spine as I looked at him. “I was young when it happened, and I’ve wanted revenge ever since.”
I just sat there, my head moving back and forth, still unable to believe it. It wasn’t possible. Not at all. I cleared my throat to stop myself from outright denying it. Maybe if he told me the story, I could figure something out. “Well, tell me what happened.”
Simon looked at me curiously. He shifted in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. When he finally spoke, he talked about his mother’s death as easily as most people talked about the weather. “My mother was hooked on your grandfather’s drugs. He was a dealer at that time and kept selling to her and selling to her. Eventually, she OD’d.”
Relief swept through me. So, he hadn’t killed her with his own hands. It was the drugs. My jaw ticked as I stared at him. Misplaced anger. He was more than likely not from a rival business then. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Grandpa always said people like him had a different set of ethics, but at least they had them. “Your mother,” I started, unsure of what to say, but knew I needed to try to dissuade him for blaming my grandfather. “It was terrible what happened to her, but she should’ve taken responsibility for herself, and for you. Gramps didn’t kill your mom, she killed herself.”
He moved in a blur. So fast he looked like a black streak darting for me just before my cheek stung and a slap reverberated through the room. Falling to the side, I cried out. My hands twitched to cover my burning cheek, but they were tied tight. I breathed out, anger welling inside me before I lifted myself back into a sitting position and stared up at him. I should’ve guessed that would set him off. We weren’t dealing with a sane person here.
Simon placed his hands behind his body and in a perfect even tone said, “Don’t you ever say that at about my mother again.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. I tried to push them back, not wanting to show weakness, but they were on automatic pilot. My skin still stung from the slap. I’d be surprised if I didn’t already have a welt growing there. He was impossibly strong. He barely touched me, yet it was one of the worst pains I’d ever felt. My jaw even ticked when I moved it. “Don’t hit me again,” I said with all the strength I could muster.
Simon turned away. A few moments later, I heard what caught his attention. The cell phone on the table rang, the lifeless tones perfect for the occasion. My heart flew up through my throat as he crossed the room, answering the phone within a second. “Yes?” He turned with a smile before falling back into the chair. “Yes, she’s here.”
Relief flooded through me. I leaned forward on the couch. “Gramps?”
Simon eyed me, shaking his head no. But no it wasn’t my grandfather, or no he didn’t want me talking? Desperation clawed at me. My ears strained to hear what was going on, but at the same time, it felt as if I was stuck in a vacuum. My mind was simultaneously trying to do too many things at once that I couldn’t concentrate. I tried to wiggle out of my holds as if I could grab the phone from Simon and tell him exactly where I was, so he could come get me out of this mess like he always did. Except, I didn’t even know where we were. I didn’t even know what to tell him. My only guess was that we were in a hotel room due to the general layout of the rooms and the unoriginal furniture.
I stayed silent for a little while longer until I knew I’d never be able to hear what was going on. Then, I called out, “Gramps! Help!”
Simon frowned. He covered the phone with his hand and glared. “Excuse me, two adults are trying to have a conversation.”
My stomach twisted. I itched to say something smartass back, but I bit my tongue, not wanting a repeat of the slap.
“Yes, she’s fine,” Simon said, his voice even. He nodded his head while he listened, the corner of his lips turning up. “Of course, I’ll give her back, but I’m going to need something in return.” There was a beat of silence from Simon, then, his smile grew wider. “No, I don’t want your money, old man. Did you not understand the note I left? I thought I made it perfectly clear that nothing else would do, only your life.”
Terror ripped through me. His life? No, I hadn’t just heard that. “What?”
Simon ignored me. He spoke into the phone, slow and deliberate, his eyes focused on me. “Yes, that’s correct. I don’t want your dirty money. I don’t want anything except what you took from me. Since I can’t get that, I’ll take an even exchange. You killed my mother many years ago, Greenie. For that, I want your dead body delivered to me. Then, I’ll let your granddaughter go unharmed.”
Panic swept through me as I listened to Simon calmly explain his plans to my grandfather. But Grandpa was all I had. My parents died before I’d even gone to school as a child. He was the only parent I’d ever known. To lose him… I shook my head, tears spilling down my cheeks now.
“I assure you,” Simon said, his voice rising. “The photo I left you of me and my mother is not a fake. I’ll want that returned as well, maybe stapled to your lifeless chest? Yes, that would do very well. Please add that to my demands.”
I bit back a cry, picturing my balding grandfather dragged into the room by this maniac with a picture stapled to his chest. But something about this didn’t make sense. My grandfather hadn’t been a dealer for many, many years. Simon didn’t look that much older than me. There was no way my grandfather was even a dealer when he was a kid. The timeline was way off.
“You have twenty-four hours to think it through. Oh, and Greenie?” Simon flew to the couch I sat on, almost literally. One second, he was in a seated position across the room. The next, his hands were closed around my throat. His mouth opened. Long, pointy fangs descended from his mouth. I screamed. In a flash, his teeth sank into my skin, tearing through until I was in a haze and effectively cutting off my cry. Simon hummed, a sound usually reserved for the bedroom, then pulled his mouth from my neck while my eyes went out of focus. “Don’t think I won’t punish perfect little Delilah here until you make up your mind. You better be quick.”
Simon gave my cheek a tiny slap. I gasped, choking. The pain in my neck intensified, but in the same moment, there was an odd pleasure too. He’d just bit me. With fangs. What in the actual fuck?
Simon hissed, throwing the phone down in the chair, and then lunged for me again. There was nothing I could do to stop him. His fangs sank right where they had before, staying there until I felt my blood sing. It flowed to his mouth like water from a faucet. He swallowed and swallowed. My eyelids fluttered.
What the hell was he?
I didn’t know how long he drank from me. It could’ve easily been a second or an hour. Time seemed to almost stop as my blood willingly flowed toward him. I’d even leaned in closer, so that when he finally pulled away, I was practically in his lap. My blood ran down his face as I stared up at him, blinking. He smiled, and more red liquid spilled over his lips. His teeth were stained red too.
“Yes,” Simon said carefully as I gazed up at him. “Your grandfather chose to fuck with the wrong creature.”
Creature? My mind was in a fog. Nothing was making sense. I must’ve been having delusions. Maybe from the aftereffects of whatever he gave me to knock me out.
He grinned again as if he enjoyed seeing me in pain. His fangs were displayed prominently this time, clearly cutting through his gumline.
The fast movements. The fucked-up timeline. The blood drinking. My stomach rolled, and I felt like I could vomit at any moment. “Vampire?” I asked, not even thinking the words before they left my mouth.