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She felt Makayla grip her tightly. “Run,” she cried and the terror in her eyes was chilling. They bolted, hand in hand down the sidewalk and crossed a street, not a car in sight. Suddenly, Makayla’s spike on her right heel wedged on the curb and snapped. She fell to a heap then sat up, terror mounting in her eyes. She ripped her pumps from her feet and tossed them away.
Realizing the dilemma of running in six-inch heels, Donja, with her heart stampeding raised one leg then another and let them fall where they may. She extended her hand and Makayla took it. She pulled her to her feet and they turned, fleeing into shadows.
Finding the Mustang, they got in inside and Donja whose breathing was erratic, fired the engine then hit the lock button on the doors. She backed up, then cut the wheel and just as she pressed the pedal to the medal with tires squealing, she glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw the scar-faced man, whose shirt hung in tattered shreds, standing in the middle of the street, watching their departing taillights. She glanced to the road, then immediately back to the rear-view mirror. He was gone.
She drove on, without words, their breaths haggard. After they passed through customs, Donja relaxed a bit. She glanced at the digital clock on the dash, 12:07. She took a deep breath, hoping to mentally escape the situation, but it was not to be. She still trembled.
“I saw the big man in the road when we left,” she breathed. “Do you think he killed Torin and Gage?”
“No,” Makayla said with a sniffle in her voice, “they most likely backed off if people saw the fight or they felt innocent lives were in danger.”
Donja gripped the steering wheel tightly, Torin’s unforgettable eyes looming in the glow of the headlights.
She cut a side glance to Makayla who looked totally defeated. Tears were streaming her cheeks and her hands were trembling. “Do you want to tell me what just happened?” Donja asked, fighting for control.
Silence for a moment or two and then the floodgates opened, and Makayla began to wail.
“Makayla!” Donja shirked. “Talk to me. This feels totally unreal, what’s happening?”
“I didn’t want you to know, no one knows, not even Heather, but Gage is not exactly,” she paused with a look that reeked of terror, “mortal.”
“What the hell are you talking about, you’re scaring the shit out of me,” Donja bellowed, tears welling in her eyes.
“Gage is an Iridescent.”
“A what?”
“A Radiant Iridescent, a spirit…blood sucker, an immortal.”
“A vampire?”
“Well not exactly like the movies portray them, but similar,” she sobbed, wringing her hands.
“Are you fucking with my head?” Donja snapped, “because this is not funny!”
“No, quite the contrary,” she blubbered.
“I can’t believe this shit, and that man,” she said, “the one with the scar on his face. How the hell could he jump off a two-story building?”
“He’s one too, they have abilities, unimaginable power.”
“This is insane,” Donja laughed hysterically.
“I’m sorry, I should have been forthcoming with you, but I never expected this to happen. Like I said, Heather doesn’t even know the truth and she’s been going to the club with me forever.”
Donja exhaled dramatically. “In all the days of my life…I’ve never heard of such.” She shook her head. “Not real, not real, it can’t be,” she mumbled, her tortured mind spinning. She fixated her eyes on the road, listening as Makayla’s sobs intensified, “Would you stop!” Donja shrieked.
Makayla dropped her hands, mascara and tears streaking her cheeks.
“Have I gone crazy, have I finally lost it?” Donja asked with veiled eyes.
“No, it’s all real, Donja, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed.
“So, when I woke up at night and you were on the phone, I thought it was Heather, but it wasn’t…was it? It was Gage.”
“Yes.” She sobbed.
“Okay,” Donja exhaled with a huff, “why didn’t you tell me…” her words trailed off, instantly replaced by a gut-wrenching scream as her headlights illumed the scar-faced man standing in the middle of the bridge with his fist clenched, his jaw tight and his numinous eyes upon them.