Page 14 of Road Trip with a Vampire

Seven

Mysterious Wind Gust Disrupts Heliotrope Basketball

The Herald Reporter ; staff reporter

In a bizarre turn of events, play was disrupted in the fourth quarter when a woman with curly auburn hair who was, apparently, not a member of the cheer squad or a student at U of I Blossomtown, strode across the court, after which twenty-five-mile-per-hour winds inexplicably began blowing through Assemblage Hall.

Coach Bobby Day threw a chair and yelled at a referee in frustration.

The wind did not seem to care about Coach Day or his outburst, however, and continued unabated for another four minutes until the woman was escorted out of the building.

Oddly, weather reports showed the day was crystal clear, with no wind or other weather disruptions of any kind.

Heliotrope fans, however, are just happy their boys got another great win at home.

My suitcase sat at the foot of my bed as I packed for my road trip with a vampire.

We were leaving bright and early the following morning, but doubt consumed me.

In the four days since we’d agreed to travel together, Peter and I had met at Perky’s two more times, sketching out a rough itinerary.

We wanted to visit as many locations in his journal as possible en route to Blossomtown to boost the odds of him regaining his memory before getting there.

Unfortunately, only a few journal entries mentioned places we could find on a map.

Even fewer were located between Redwoodsville and Indiana.

We’d planned to stop at a place in eastern Nevada, a bowling alley in Wyoming, and potentially a park near St. Louis if time allowed.

It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough.

We didn’t have time for the detours we’d need to make to visit other locations in his journal.

Given the subtly threatening tone of the note he’d received, Peter was anxious to get to Blossomtown quickly.

And two weeks—the length of time I expected it would take to visit this small number of locations in Peter’s journal we’d identified, experiment with my magic without anyone finding out about it, and drive back home again—was as much time as I felt I could be away from Yoga Magic without it being a burden to my friends.

As I’d suspected, Lindsay and Becky had been more than okay with me leaving for a couple of weeks.

Yet my conscience still pricked at me. I’d built a life and a business here.

Like a child clutching her favorite toy, some part of me was frightened that if I let this place out of my sight, it would disappear.

The charred remains of what had once been my bedroom curtains, though, told the full story. I had to leave for a little while if I wanted to retain some semblance of the person I’d become.

As Peter and I had built our itinerary, I’d been putting together a secret magical experimentation itinerary of my own.

I planned to start with a small elemental spell as soon as I managed to get some alone time.

Something that required a bit more power than what I used to summon and light my nightly candles but not much more.

A little wind spell possibly—like what I’d used to soundproof my room when Peter had spent the night, only bigger.

I would cast, then reflect on how I felt.

If, the next morning, I still felt as jittery and uncomfortable as I did right now, I’d ramp up the spell incrementally the following day.

Given that one day of missing my candle ritual had caused my curtains to catch fire, I’d probably need to ramp up more than once.

This was the most intentional I’d ever been with my magic. If my old friends could see me now.

As I prepared to zip up my suitcase, my senses drifted to the cache of secret supplies in my closet. The powders. The daggers. My fancy ring. I hadn’t touched any of it since moving to California—there’d been no need—but…

After only a moment’s indecision I walked to my closet and picked up the box that held them. It felt heavier than I’d remembered, which was probably a metaphor for something if I stopped to think about it.

I slid it into my suitcase beneath my sweaters. Peter seemed harmless enough, but I barely knew him. He barely knew himself. If he got his memory back ? there was no telling what we might find.

To say nothing of what we might find when we got to Indiana.

It seemed wise to bring every weapon at my disposal on this trip, just in case.

Becky and Lindsay were waiting for me in the studio when I walked in at seven the following morning, my suitcase in hand.

My guilt about leaving them alone to run the studio in my absence reared its head again.

“You sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone?” I asked.

“We’ll be fine ,” Becky said.

“We’ve been over this,” Lindsay added in a patient tone she reserved for slow-to-learn students.

We had. Ever since getting their enthusiastic approval for this trip, I’d checked in with them multiple times to give them the chance to change their minds. Each time they’d assured me that not only would the studio be fine if I left, but I also deserved a vacation.

“I just don’t feel good about leaving you two to do all the work on your own,” I said.

“It’s running a yoga studio, not brain surgery,” Becky quipped.

“Lindsay and I can handle the administrative stuff for a couple of weeks. We’re asking Ashley and Grant to teach some extra classes while you’re gone.

” Ashley and Grant were two part-time instructors who filled in for us on occasion.

“And there’s nothing more we need to do for the goats-in-the-park event. Everything’s been planned.”

She said that last part with a teasing glimmer in her eye, knowing how annoyed I was that we were going through with that event at all.

I was going to miss my friends so much while I was away.

“I don’t know how you go at the pace you go without a break,” Lindsay said. “You’ll burn out, if you haven’t started burning out already.”

“Okay,” I said reluctantly. “I’ll go. But if something comes up and you need me to come back—”

I was just about to insist they text me when the front door to the studio swung open.

In strode Peter, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. He was freshly showered, his dark hair still damp and slightly disheveled. He seemed to have fed recently, too. His eyes were bright, and when I breathed in, there was no hint of the potent pheromone cocktail intrinsic to hungry vampires.

“I know you’d planned to pick me up,” he said. “This seemed a more efficient use of time.”

I didn’t have to look to know Becky’s and Lindsay’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates. It now occurred to me—too late—that in all the conversations I’d had with them about this trip, I’d never told them that I wouldn’t be taking it alone.

Deep down, I must have been hoping they’d never find out.

Oops?

“Peter! Hi,” I said. Or squeaked. Gods, this was so incredibly awkward. I reached up reflexively to tuck my hair behind an ear, only to remember a moment later that it was tied back into a ponytail. I let my hand fall to my side, feeling foolish.

He inclined his head towards the door. “Shall we?”

“In a minute,” I said. I could feel my friends staring at me. There was no way they’d let me leave before I did some serious explaining. I tossed Peter my car keys, and he easily caught them in midair. “Mine’s the red convertible at the back of the building.”

He nodded, then walked out of the studio without another word.

My friends jumped on me like vultures on carrion.

“You didn’t tell us you were going on vacation with Peter ,” Lindsay stage-whispered.

“Zelda,” Becky said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “What is going on ?”

I bit my lip. “It’s…not what it looks like,” I said, cringing at how lame that sounded.

Lindsay folded her arms tightly across her chest. “What is it, then?”

Think, Zelda. Think! “He’s…a friend of a friend,” I said lamely, in an echo of what I’d told them weeks ago.

“Oh! And…and we’re driving out to visit that friend.

Together.” Not a half bad lie for something I literally made up on the spot.

And if we visited Reginald on this road trip, that wouldn’t even be entirely a lie.

Reggie knew both of us, and he lived in Chicago—which, if memory served, was only a few hours northwest of Blossomtown.

Becky and Lindsay exchanged a look.

“I don’t know how I feel about you going off for a couple of weeks with a man you’re telling us you don’t even know,” Lindsay said. “Like, he’s really hot and all, which is why we were thrilled for you when you hooked up with him that one time—”

“I did not hook up with him,” I insisted.

“But going on a road trip with a hot, awkward stranger?” Lindsay continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “It’s giving Netflix true crime documentary, to be honest.”

“I don’t like it,” Becky agreed. “You’re usually so careful and reasoned before you make decisions, Zelda. This isn’t you at all.”

I almost laughed. For centuries, making impulsive decisions had been entirely me. But they would have no way of knowing that.

“I can take care of myself.” And then, giving them the barest hint of the truth, I added, “I’m stronger than I look. If he tries anything, I’ll be fine.”

My friends didn’t look convinced. But Lindsay said, with an earnestness that surprised me, “Promise me you’ll call if you need us to save you.”

I huffed a laugh. “I promise.”