Page 21 of Road Trip with a Vampire
Eleven
My dearest Henrietta,
I do hope you are recovering well from the scare you received at our party the other night!
When I planned the event I had not known hooligans wearing nothing but witches’ hats on their heads would run unclothed and shrieking through our front garden, ruining everything!
It pains me and my family to no end that our oversight has caused you and the rest of our guests mental anguish.
By way of update: the ringleader of those miscreants—a harlot with wild auburn hair known by some in town as Grizelda Watson—ran off cackling like a banshee when I accosted her the next morning.
I am told that a group of young men from town has banded together to root out the troublemakers so nothing of this sort happens again.
Please do pass along my kindest regards to your parents. We hope to see you and your whole family at the estate again once you have fully recovered.
Mrs.Elizabeth Chatwick
We walked back to the motel arm in arm. There was nothing out here that could hurt me, but when I said this, Peter simply grunted and pulled me closer. His body was as solid as a statue pressed against me, radiating a chill I could feel down to my bones.
For reasons I didn’t fully understand, though, when we finally reached our room and I let go of his arm, I missed his touch.
“I’m still sleeping in the car,” he said abruptly, his words coming out as white puffs in the cold night air. “But before I go, we should talk.”
He followed me into the room, then watched as I walked towards the bed and sat on its edge.
Now that we were alone in our room, Peter’s relaxed demeanor from moments ago was gone.
His body was rigid with tension, his arms folded so tightly across his chest that the fabric of his black T-shirt strained against his biceps.
I could see in every tight line of his body that he was walking a knife’s edge.
What was he holding himself back from? Was it from biting me? Or from something else?
I pretended not to notice the change in him, though seeing him so tense sent my heart knocking hard against my rib cage. “What do you want to talk about?”
He stalked towards the bed, eyes on the spot beside me as if considering sitting there.
After a beat, he knelt on the floor instead, making our faces nearly level.
I had to close my eyes against the intimacy of this position.
We were so close I could smell the metallic tang of blood on his breath.
Human , I thought; whoever he’d drunk from had been human.
I forced myself to focus on that instead of the intense way he was looking at me.
“I told you why I was out there,” he said. “But why were you ?”
It was the bucket of cold water over my head I needed.
“I already told you,” I hedged, averting my eyes. “I was just out for a late-night stroll.”
Peter quirked an eyebrow. “Odd place for a late-night stroll.”
“There was nowhere else,” I pointed out. “Not unless you enjoy walking along freeways, which I don’t.”
“Fair enough,” he said. He nodded at my hands. “That light you were holding out there. That wasn’t a flashlight.”
I swallowed. “No.”
“Did you go outside to conjure it?”
No point in denying it. He already knew the answer. “Yes.”
“And you went wandering behind our sketchy motel in the middle of the night to conjure a ball of light because…”
He paused, waiting for me to finish his sentence. I felt like a rabbit caught in a trap. He still knelt before me, and it occurred to me that he was doing that to put me at ease. After years of living alone with my secrets, though, it still felt like an interrogation.
“I thought you didn’t want to overstep,” I said, my tone frosty. “You’re overstepping now. But if you must know…I was out there because I couldn’t sleep.” That was true enough. “I don’t use my powers much anymore, and instead of tossing and turning, I decided to—”
He cut me off with a look so piercing it felt like he was looking straight through me. “Why do you keep it hidden?”
My stomach dropped. “Why do I keep what hidden?”
“Your magic.” He held up two fingers. “Twice on this trip you’ve used your magic when I wasn’t around to see it.
Just now in that field and earlier at the rest stop.
But you haven’t used it at any other time.
Not even once.” He leaned in so close I could see myself reflected in his fathomless dark eyes.
“You don’t need to hide from me, Zelda. I already know what you are. ”
Except he didn’t. Not really.
Did I owe him the full story? No. But something about his sincere, unexpected concern unlocked something deep inside that I’d kept bottled up for far too long.
Or maybe I was simply tired of living all alone with my secrets.
I swallowed around the lump in my throat.
“Things…get destructive when I use my magic,” I said, my voice just above a whisper.
“ I get destructive. The crowd I used to run with—vampires mostly—were into chaos.” I gave a small shrug.
“One day, some…very bad things happened, and I decided to leave my old life behind. When I did, I decided to leave magic behind, too.”
It wasn’t the whole picture, but it was more than I’d given anyone in years.
He frowned. “You left your magic behind?”
“Yes,” I said. “Most of the time I don’t use it at all. It’s better for everyone that way.”
“It isn’t better for you.”
“It is.”
“Is it?” he asked, skeptical. “Zelda, is hiding your powers why you’ve been in obvious physical discomfort ever since I’ve met you?”
The world tilted on its axis.
I gaped at Peter as I mentally sifted through the events of the past few weeks. I thought I’d done a good job of keeping my problem under wraps. Lindsay and Becky certainly hadn’t noticed me struggling. If they had, they’d have said something.
Was I that unguarded around Peter? I didn’t think so, but then I thought of how he’d remembered I didn’t sleep well just from one offhand comment I’d made weeks ago. The way he’d known I was too clumsy to be a dancer from the way my feet and legs were proportioned.
Either way, this was not a conversation I wanted to have.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, with as much confidence as I could muster.
“Yes, you do,” he insisted. “Before this trip, I thought maybe I was imagining things. But I’m not.” His eyes met mine. “You don’t look like you’re in discomfort at all right now. And you’ve just cast a spell. Which leads me to think you not using your magic has something to do with it.”
Oh gods. What did I say to all this?
Peter spoke again before I could decide. “Do you judge me for needing to drink blood to survive?”
I blinked at him. Whatever I’d expected him to say next, it hadn’t been that. “What?”
“This is relevant, I promise,” he said.
I considered his question. Did I like that vampires drank blood? No. It was gross at best and violent at worst. But did I judge vampires for eating the way they ate due to their innate biological imperative?
“Of course I don’t judge you,” I answered honestly.
“Why not?”
Wasn’t it obvious? “You’re just doing what you need to do to survive.”
His smug expression told me this was exactly the answer he’d been looking for. “Then why do you judge yourself for doing what you need to do to survive?”
“It’s…not the same thing,” I spluttered.
“Isn’t it?”
My head was spinning. “No,” I said flatly. “I don’t need my powers to survive.”
“But you need them to thrive .” He sat back on his haunches, considering me. “If you don’t expect vampires to suppress who we are, why do you insist on suppressing who you are?”
I opened my mouth to tell him that he was comparing two very different things. Then closed it again when I realized I couldn’t.
It was apparently all the confirmation Peter needed. He nodded, satisfied that he’d caught me, then stood up. Now he loomed over me from where I still sat on the edge of the bed. My eyes traveled up, up, up his body until they reached his face.
He could overpower me so easily, I realized. Push me down and take anything he wanted.
But I knew, with a certainty I’d seldom felt, that he never would.
His expression was unreadable. “I…need a shower,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”
It was nearly three in the morning, but I was way too wired to sleep.
Once I heard Peter’s shower running, I got out my phone to check my texts.
I’d long been in the habit of muting them during business hours to minimize distractions and then checking them once I got home from work.
But I was all out of my routine and had forgotten about my phone until just now.
My stomach sank.
Becky and Lindsay had texted over a dozen times.
Becky: I know you’ve only been gone a few hours but I am still worried about you driving across the country with a stranger
Becky: Please write back and let us know you aren’t dead in a ditch somewhere
Lindsay: ALSO—v important, we finally got the dirt on Katie’s ex-husband
Lindsay: (Katie from Early Crew, not Katie from Lunch Bunch btw)
Becky: Oh yeah
Becky: Her ex is SUCH AN ASSHOLE
Becky: Like I cannot BELIEVE
Lindsay: We’ll let Early Crew Katie fill you in when you get back (it’s not our story to tell)
Lindsay: Okay now it’s been 8+ hours since my first text
Becky: And 9 hours since my first text
Lindsay: You usually respond to texts at the end of the day so we’re also slightly-to-moderately concerned you’ve maybe been murdered
Lindsay: Please text us when you get these (and we hope you haven’t been murdered)
Lindsay: (Everything at the studio is fine btw)
It was three fifteen in the morning. It was an hour earlier in California, but it was still the middle of the night. Given how worried they were, I probably needed to text my friends back anyway. Hopefully they kept their phones on do not disturb while they were sleeping.
Zelda: Hey
Zelda: I haven’t been murdered