Page 15 of My Road Trip with a Vampire: Season One

So, the ghost is definitely in her corporeal form now. Great.

The ghost pushes Jessica aside and drops to all fours, her joints cracking and snapping as her limbs twist and contort.

Dennis takes off after James.

I sink to my knees.

“Jessica? Are you ok?”

She’s sniffling, and her hair is loose around her shoulders. Her ponytail elastic is missing. She’s crying too hard to make a clear sentence. Understandable.

“Come on. It’ll be ok.”

I help her to her feet.

“I’m going to take care of this, but you gotta come with me.”

She looks terrified, but she’s a smart girl. She matches my quick pace.

We come back to the spot where the old bridge used to be. Dennis has James cornered from running any further. I don’t even have time to care about the fact that my vampire co-worker has his fangs bared because the terrible cold rolls over me again.

I’m standing in the middle of the road, and I know this is where it happened. I can see the faintest phantom headlights in the distance, and a young woman who’s all done up for a dance is making her way under the old bridge. The image blurs and distorts. Now the girl has her back pressed against the bridge wall. She’s crying and trying to fix her dress.

I can feel her dread, her shame. A bright yellow Beetle pulls up, and a young man in a powder blue suit sticks his head out the window. He says something to her, but she shakes her head and starts walking.

The car goes into reverse, and the sound registers just before it pulls forward and hits the girl, her arms and legs bending at the strangest angle, her neck twisting too far.

“Focus, Bea!” I’m pulled back to reality by Dennis’ hand on my shoulder. “She’s here. You need to send her back.”

But the young woman stands with an arm around Jessica. I can see that it’s a gentle gesture, but it might as well be a chokehold for all of Jessica’s crying.

“You don’t want to hurt her, do you?” I ask the ghost.

Her neck makes a popping noise as she twists to look at me.

“Who do you want to hurt?”

The ghost transforms then—into something huge and covered in hair. She opens her mouth, her teeth sharp and bared as she screams in agony. I can see who she’s looking at.

James.

“Are you mad because a man hurt you? Do you want to take it out on the boys who come around here at night?”

She growls but it sounds like an argument. Then I look at James. His face has grown pale. I piece it together.

“You pushed too far, didn’t you?” I ask him, stepping closer. The ghost’s roar shrinks into a sob. She turns back into a girl, and I point to her. “And you showed up to help her?”

She sniffles and nods.

I feel bad for her, caught in this loop, swept up in vengeance. Day after day. Year after year. It’s hate that keeps growing, grief that turns the essence of a human spirit into a monster.

Dennis turns to James. The teen’s eyes go wide. The shift in his eyes is noticeable; Dennis has him compelled.

“James,” he says darkly. Jessica trembles. “Did you do something wrong?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hmm. Do you do this often?”