Page 12

Maxine

Keeping away from Leyore coven activities was a top priority, obviously.

However, there’s only so many options a poor vampire woman has to get her hands on some fresh blood without horrifying her unsuspecting roommate.

And so, while Leah was out fraternizing with sea urchins or something to that extent, I made my way to the nearest underground blood bar to get my fix.

The place was cleverly disguised to look like an abandoned convenience store, the ‘for sale’ sign peeling from the smudged glass windows and empty shelves collecting dust within.

I hovered under a streetlamp outside the back entrance, the bulb flickering to life as the sun sank below the sprawling buildings, and knocked twice on the aluminum door.

The sound echoed around the empty street and I danced on my toes, nervous out in the open. I glanced over my shoulder, scanning for anything out of the ordinary, but the street was deserted.

In the few short days that I’d spent holed up on Leah’s boat, nothing unusual had occurred.

No men in unflattering hats watching me from the sidewalk and no ominous woman hanging around either.

It had been so peaceful in fact, floating out there in the bay, that I began to wonder if I’d overreacted and there was no reason to be hiding at all.

But something in my gut told me I wasn’t out of the woods yet. And even if it had all been in my head and there was no one after me, I was rather enjoying my time with Leah.

Myrtle, the creaking houseboat, had a certain charm.

It was a little dusty and could certainly do with some interior decorating, but there was something rather cozy about the small space.

And there was something quite pleasant about waking up to the scent of fresh coffee and Leah’s bright red bedhead the first thing I saw in the mornings.

She would stomp through the living room at the crack of dawn and bang cupboard doors in the kitchen, rousing me with a cup of coffee and a shake of her head while I whinged and moaned about the early hour.

Then she would go off to work – and I would rub my eyes, sip my coffee, then promptly roll over and go back to sleep until the cawing of gulls woke me a few hours later.

I did not expect to feel as comfortable as I did, orbiting Leah in that small, floating home. But it felt like something I could get used to, a life I could live forever.

Before I could further examine that worrying thought, the door before me swung open and a slim, smiling Leyore vampire beckoned me inside. Through the dusty interior and down a discreet set of stairs to the basement, I found myself in the dimly-lit Leyore blood bar.

The underground haven was subtly bustling and at the far end of the bar, tucked into a booth, I spotted Jordan, accompanied by a bright-eyed Sky and a rather stormy-looking Dylan slouching in the opposite seat.

Jordan caught sight of me first, eyes flickering with faint concern before she masked it with a welcoming smile.

"Maxine!" she greeted me as I slid into the booth beside them. Her tone was casual, but her eyes were sharp, probing. “How are you holding up?”

"I'm perfectly fine," I assured her, brushing off the concern with a shrug. My gaze flicked across the table to Dylan, who stared past me, frowning and deep in thought. A crease was forming between her brows. “What’s up with her?”

“She’s been cranky all evening.” Sky sighed, propping an elbow on the table with her chin in her hand.

“She’s been cranky her whole life.” Jordan threw an arm over Sky’s shoulder, shaking her head. “Although, more so than usual lately. Yesterday she nearly took my head off just for saying hello.”

Dylan, finally coming to realize that she was the topic of discussion, blinked rapidly, before directing a withering glare at Jordan. “You didn’t just ‘say hello’ you blasted a fucking kazoo right next to my ear!”

At my quizzical look, Jordan shrugged. “The twins left their toys at the office.”

I flagged down a waitress and ordered my usual concoction before turning back to the group, catching the tail end of their bickering.

“–wouldn’t be in such a bad mood if you would just cut it out ,” Dylan was hissing, folding her arms and slumping back in her seat.

Jordan rolled her eyes, lifting her hands in mock surrender while Sky tutted quietly behind her drink. I kept my eyes on Dylan, simmering quietly in her seat. The atmosphere was light, but she was uneasy. And I had my suspicions as to why.

My theory proved correct when Jordan’s joking landed a sharp, if unintended, jab.

“How does Amara handle being married to such a grouch?” she teased, unaware of the minefield she was treading on. “And where is she, anyway? You never bring her out anymore.”

Dylan’s face darkened and she snapped, sharper than I’d ever seen from her before, "Can you not , Jordan?!"

The table went quiet. Sky’s smile straightened out, and Jordan’s face registered surprise and confusion. We sat in silence for a moment, before Jordan set down her drink, concern in her tone. "What’s going on with you?"

Seizing the moment to smooth over the crack, I jumped in – and offered Dylan an out. "Oh, leave her be, Jordan. Dylan’s just tired of our bullshit.”

Dylan opened her mouth but I spoke over her, flattening my palms on the table. “You and your kazoo – and me and my cellphone. I’ve been bombarding her with texts. Right, Dylan?”

Dylan looked at me, momentarily puzzled. She tried to speak again but I didn’t give her a moment to comment, turning back to Jordan with a sheepish grin. “I’ve been pestering her about all sorts of nonsense. So she’s probably just fed up with the lot of us.”

When I glanced back at her, Dylan raised a quizzical brow but she shrugged, playing along. "Yeah – Maxine’s texts are a real saga. Day and night, no escape."

The group laughed, the tension dissolving as the focus shifted to me and my incessant texting which, apparently, everyone had strong options on.

“It does get a tad overwhelming from time to time.” Sky chuckled. “Especially when you start sending those multi-part messages at three in the morning.”

“And the voice notes. I’ve lost hours of my life listening to Maxine ramble,” Jordan added, and even Dylan cracked a real smile.

By the time the conversation drew to a close and I’d drunk my fill for the night, Dylan was in a significantly better mood, albeit still a little standoffish.

I waited until Sky and Jordan bid us goodnight to pull her aside, catching her by the elbow before she could wander off too. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Dylan stiffened, but she halted, turning to me with an agitated groan.

“I know what you’re going to ask so let me make it easier for you.

Yes, I’m all right. No, I don’t want to talk about it.

Thank you for diffusing the situation. And no, you absolutely cannot borrow my bomber jacket because the last time I lent it to you, you tried to dye it pink. ”

“Okay, firstly,” I sniffed, sizing her up, “I did not try to dye it pink. I put it in the laundry with my red nightgown and the color leaked. Secondly, you are clearly not okay. And lastly, we are going to talk about it because I already know what’s going on.”

Dylan sputtered out a humorless laugh. “How could you possibly–”

“Hunter told me everything.”

That shut her up. Dylan’s mouth straightened into a line and she narrowed her eyes at me, looking me up and down. “Of course she did.”

I gave her my best devious smile. Back at High Stakes headquarters, when Hunter had hurried away to take a mysterious phone call, I’d followed her – I’d listened. Then I’d subjected her to two minutes of pestering and she’d spilled the juicy details. Details that I relayed to a stone-faced Dylan.

“A few weeks ago, you called Hunter to ask her about her experience of being turned into a vampire. In fact, you called her quite often asking for advice.” I scrubbed the smugness from my tone, softening my words as I reached for her shoulder. “So, how’s Amara doing?”

Dylan stared me down, and then sighed. “So you do know everything.”

“I know you’ve turned Amara,” I confirmed, tilting my head to the side. “She’s not doing well?”

“She’s doing a little better now.” Dylan folded her arms, concern coloring her confession. “I’m just… worried. Jordan turned Hunter and Sky without a hitch, but I – I’ve never done this before. I’m worried I did it wrong.”

“I think you’re overthinking this, Dylan.” I tried for a tentative hug, and was fairly surprised when she leaned into it. “She’s going to feel like hell for a little while, but that will pass. And then you’ll have an eternity to look forward to together.”

“An eternity together.” Her voice was a murmur as she propped her chin on my head, and I tightened my arms around her. “That’s a nice thought.”

It was. And though I could not admit it out loud, my heart knew that I wanted it too. An eternity with someone special, to make up for all the years that we lost.

The night air was cool against my skin as I left the comforting clamor of the underground bar, heading back to Leah’s boat and struggling to come up with a plausible story about where I’d been.

The streets were quiet, muted under the cloak of darkness, and street lamps cast hazy halos of light over my head. My footsteps ricocheted around the vacant avenue, loud t ap-tap-taps on the pavement as I picked up the pace.

I kept my head down, skirting down the sidewalk with my collar turned up, and wished for the umpteenth time that I’d asked Dylan to escort me home. But then I’d have to explain what the hell I was doing living on a houseboat, and who I was hiding from in the first place.

In the silence, a prickling sensation crawled up my spine – that unmistakable feeling of being watched.

I quickened my pace, head swiveling to scan the shadows that seemed to thicken around me, swallowing the faint glow of the streetlights. The buildings to my left and right stared back, vacant windows like ominous eyes tracing my every step.

I jerked at a sound to my right, and glanced down the alleyway. A small ginger street cat disappeared into the dark, scuttling footsteps fading as it went. I breathed a stilted sigh of relief and turned away – and my breath caught in my throat.

It was her.

The waxy woman from the mall.

She stood motionless on the sidewalk across the street, still as death, those empty eyes – too wide, too glassy – fixed on me.

I froze. I forgot to breathe, forgot to blink.

There was something distinctly off about her. She lacked those subtle movements, the minute expressions that flicker across a face. She was an uncanny amalgamation of human parts with no real life behind those flawless features.

I took a small, hesitant step backward and, like I’d triggered an invisible tripwire, she moved.

She sprinted toward me, a streaking blur of silver in the dark.

Panic surged through my veins, propelling me, begging me to run. And I did. My mind raced as fast as my legs, weaving through alleyways, darting around corners, and hurtling over trash cans in a desperate attempt to lose her.

My heart pounded in my chest, my every step echoing off the narrow walls. Over the rushing in my ears and my own labored breathing, I could hear the near-silent footfalls of the wax-model woman. The nightmare hot on my heels. Catching up.

I couldn’t outrun her. But maybe you don’t have to.

I took another corner with screeching heels and halted abruptly, gritty asphalt scraping under my shoes as I spun around to meet her.

As predicted, the woman, driven by whatever unnatural force animated her, raced around the corner at full speed, an untraceable smear of silver. Without a second’s hesitation, I pivoted my heel, coiled my strength, and threw a punch with all the force of my vampiric heritage.

The impact was jarring. My fist connected with her face, and the sound was nothing like hitting flesh – it was softer, muffled, like punching a pillow. The force sent her sprawling backward, and she hit the ground hard.

When she raised her head I blanched, backing up until my shoulders hit the wall behind me.

Her face had dented inward, the skin warped around the distinct shape of my fist, like soft wax molded under pressure. One of her eyes had been pressed shut, the other bulged outward, one good shake away from popping out entirely.

I steadied myself against the wall, panting, my words scraping out with effort. "Who are you?"

Her laughter bubbled up, hollow and unsettling, as she twisted on the ground. Her limbs were bent at odd angles, like a puppet with its strings snipped.

"Gregor is looking for you." She spoke through malformed lips, her voice a distorted echo of human speech. "He wants his bride back."

Before I could register her words, her body began to change. The wax that made her up began to melt, pooling around her in a silvery-grey puddle that shimmered under the dim light of the street lamps.

Slowly, inexorably, she dissolved completely, her body seeping into the drain in the alleyway, leaving behind nothing but her soiled clothing and two empty glass eyes. I stood there, stunned, watching the last of her disappear as cold dread tunneled through my veins.

Heading back to the boat, I took extra care to weave an unpredictable path, doubling back and taking longer routes – anything to ensure I wasn’t followed. By the time I reached Myrtle, my nerves were frayed to breaking point. I knocked urgently, and when Leah opened the door I rushed into her arms.

She stiffened at first, tensing up like she wanted to push me away. But then her arms wrapped around me, tentative and gentle. "Maxine, what’s wrong?"

“I don’t… I can’t–” I buried my face in her shoulder, the words spilling out in a rush. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t stay in your life and keep you safe.”

I was terrified, for me and for her. They were too close for comfort. He was too close. And if I stuck around here, Leah’s life would be on the line.

“I might–” I sucked in a breath, trying and failing to steady my breathing. “I might have to leave–"

“No.” Leah’s grip tightened, her words fierce in my ear. “Not again.”

Her hands curled to fists at my back, and my cricket heart threatened to jump from my chest when she repeated, “Never again."