Dhampyre Chronicles: Twisted Dreams Part 12

As we moved through the trees, I glanced back. The bl.u.s.tery weather had fallen still as quickly as it had started. The pools were once again motionless mirrors. If it wasn't for the dark patches marking the ground around them, where the water had dampened the soil, I would have questioned if I imagined the whole thing.

Chapter.

14.

We made our way back to campus in silence, neither mentioning the strange event at the pools, nor Flynn's declaration for me.

It had fallen dark by the time we returned to the dorms, though the night was clear, the stars bright in cl.u.s.ters above our heads.

Only after Flynn said goodnight and left me outside my dorm, did I realize I'd never had a chance to ask him about anything to do with swimming. I must be the worst reporter in the world, and Dana was surely never going to ask me to write her an article again. The second thing that dawned on me was that I hadn't seen anything about Flynn when he'd grabbed me to pull me away from the pools.

I didn't always get glimpses into people's pasts and futures every time they touched me, but the number of times I'd not gotten anything from someone over the past few days was unusual.

I'd made out to Flynn that I was heading back to my room, but my head was spinning way too much to go to bed. I'd never been more awake. Though we must have walked several miles through the forests, I felt jittery and alert-as though I'd downed a couple of cups of coffee too many. Once again, I found myself wanting to avoid my room because I didn't want to face Brooke. She was probably at a party or some other social, but I didn't want to risk happening upon her and discovering the symbols on her skin hadn't faded over the day. I wondered what they'd been drawn in-obviously not pen or chalk, as other people and Brooke herself would have been able to see them. Maybe some kind of sap my vision could pick up on? Or maybe I'd been able to pick up on some kind of psychic trace where someone had simply marked the shapes out on her skin with their finger. Perhaps they didn't exist at all. I'd simply seen a trace of where someone else's energy had touched her skin.

I waited until I was sure Flynn was well out of the way, and then headed down toward the car lot. Did I want to drive? No, not tonight, I needed to burn off some energy. I wondered when I would get my old car back. It had been a few days now and I'd not heard anything. The garage said it would be a while to get the parts in-seemed they didn't keep many parts for an Audi around here.

Pocketing my keys, I started to walk. This time I stayed on the main road, heading down toward the beach. I told myself I was avoiding the forest, but the truth was that every step took me closer to Riley and the darkened carnival.

Full headlights blazed in the road ahead, making me squint and lift my hand to cover my eyes. The car was going too fast, and I stepped away from the curb, sure this was a gang of guys out joyriding, probably with a few beers already consumed. The car screeched to a halt right beside me, and my heart catapulted into my throat. I didn't stop, but picked up my pace. I wanted to break into a run, but the sensible part of me prevented me doing so in case they'd simply stopped to ask for directions, and I made a fool of myself by running down the street in a panic.

Three big guys, all in their late twenties to mid-thirties, jumped from the car and headed straight for me. They moved with surprising speed, staring at me with anger and violence in their eyes. I realized they knew exactly who I was. They hadn't driven past me by accident, they'd come to find me. These guys were from the carnival. I thought I recognized one of them as the man who had been talking to Bulldog Mackenzie when I'd last been at the carnival. I opened my mouth to scream for help, but before I could get any sound out, the biggest of the men jumped me, punching the air from my lungs. I gasped, but barely had time to breathe again before he'd grabbed me around the neck and slammed me up against the wall which ran parallel to the sidewalk.

Pain rocketed through my back and ribs. I would have cried out, but I still had no air, and the man's thick, sweaty fingers wrapped around my throat, throttling me. A flash came to me; the man who had hold of me was crouched down before a couple of big slabs of metal. In his hand he held a screwdriver, and he lodged the point of it into one of the screws in the slab and began to twist. But he didn't unscrew it all the way. Instead, he only loosened it, though enough for the thread to be showing, and then moved onto the next. Something made a noise and he looked around, sharply. Now I could see the rest of the picture-painted clown's faces leering down, brightly colored swings, flas.h.i.+ng lights-and everything fell into place. He was at the carnival, and he was loosening the screws in the Waltzer. A voice came from beside him, You done what we discussed, Jordy?' He nodded. All done, Boss.'

I blinked and the scene vanished, only to be replaced by the all too real one in front of me.

"You've been at the carnival again, poking around," he said, his face only inches from mine. His spittle hit my skin as he spoke, his rancid breath-like old meat-was.h.i.+ng over my face. "People have seen you there."

"Let me go!" I managed to choke out, my voice strangled.

"Keep your mouth shut, little girl, or we're going to shut it for you. Permanently."

Where was everyone? I prayed for a car to drive by, or for some other college students to come walking down the road, perhaps heading to the beach for a party, or even to make out, or skinny dip. But the road was deserted apart from me and my three friends.

No one else was going to get me out of this situation. I needed to save myself.

Remember who you are. What you are ...

Red descended over my vision. "Yeah," I managed to spit back, recovering my breath. "Just you try it!"

The guy glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening, a sneer of a smile spreading over his fat, smug face. His buddies laughed, haw haw haw, as if this whole thing was nothing but a big joke.

He turned back to me. "This is going to be a pleasure."

I held back, wanting to strike at exactly the right moment. I might have my strengths, but there were still three of them and one of me, and each of them alone outweighed me three times over.

"She's old enough, right, Jordy?" one of the other guys called.

Jordy sneered again. "Just about. Not that it would matter too much, though."

"Drag her behind the wall," the other guy suggested. "No one will see us then."

Jordy was already pulling at his belt, unb.u.t.toning his fly. "I get to go first. I ain't having your sloppy seconds."

Bile filled my throat. Did they really mean to do what I think they did?

Jordy released my throat. He pushed me to the side, shoving me down the sidewalk so he could get me behind the wall which divided the road from the adjoining scrubland. While I didn't want to be taken out of sight of the main road, if I was forced to do something extreme, I wanted to be seen by the general public even less than they did.

They surrounded me like dogs around a lamb.

My mouth ran dry, my throat closing over with a familiar, painful tightening. But my body's reaction had nothing to do with fear. Everything grew loud, my senses sharpening. Still I waited, a predator's instinct of dividing the weak from the strong in a herd. They thought they were dealing with the lamb, when actually they were dealing with the wolf.

"Go keep watch, Mitch," Jordy said. "You too, Russ. I don't need a G.o.dd.a.m.ned audience."

I'd been fighting this for so long, doing everything I could to take myself out of situations that elicited the blood l.u.s.t. I'd even resorted to hurting myself in order to stop the urges. But right now, the feeling of power, and hate, and want, and need built up inside me. And I let it. I focused solely on the purple veins crawling the way up this man's thick neck, pulsating slightly with the heart beat. The thump settled in my veins, my heart rate growing faster to align with his. I knew nothing else in the world except the feeling in my mouth, the thirst which hurt my throat, and the throbbing of this man's pulse.

I hadn't even noticed that he'd pushed me backward, while he finished unb.u.t.toning his pants and unzipped his fly. The last thing I wanted to see was what he had in there.

My gaze slipped over to where the other two men had disappeared behind the wall, keeping an eye out for anyone who might help me, or report them.

"Come on, baby," said Jordy, his upper lip curled. "You want to know what a real man feels like?"

I stared at him, cold, hungry.

The expression on his face changed. He opened his mouth to yell for his friends, but I didn't give him the chance.

I shot forward, heading for the jugular. I had always thought I would experience some kind of shame or disgust, but in that moment I thought nothing. My mouth closed around the skin of his throat and my teeth-teeth that had once been small and blunt-clamped like a bear claw trap into his throat. Blood flowed, an iron river on which every sense I'd ever experienced was carried. Jordy gave a few strangled cries, but the sounds were no more than he might have made during o.r.g.a.s.m-not that I had any experience on that front.

I sucked and swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed again.

"Jordy?" one of the men called out. "You done yet? We're getting impatient over here!"

Obviously, they got no answer.

I lifted my face from his throat.

Jordy felt like a rag doll in my arms. With his blood flowing through my veins, I was stronger than I'd ever been. I barely even noticed I still held him up.

One of the guys, Russ, came around the corner.

His eyes widened in horror, and he staggered back. "Jesus Christ!"

Like a wild cat, I curled my bloodied lips at him, and snarled. He spun on his heels, almost falling, and reeled away from the scene in front of him.

I heard Mitch's confused tone. "What's going on?"

"Just get out of here!"

"What? What about Jordy?"

"Forget Jordy! Just go!"

Car doors opened and slammed, and the engine roared to life. The wheels screeched against the asphalt, and the sound of the vehicle faded into the distance.

I considered going after them, but my blood l.u.s.t had been sated, and I wasn't sure what I'd do with them even if I caught them. I had a body to deal with, and absolutely no idea what to do with it.

Would they go back and tell everyone what I did?

I lifted my hand and wiped my mouth. Red streaked my pale skin. Abruptly, I turned to one side and vomited, the blood projecting from my mouth as though a faucet had been switched on. I coughed and spluttered, my eyes streaming. I barked a sob. What the h.e.l.l was I supposed to do now? I was a killer.

Blood was everywhere, seeping down my chest and soaking into the ground. I hadn't made two neat, little puncture holes in the man's neck. Instead, a huge chunk of his flesh was missing, leaving a bloodied, raw, gaping wound from which his life force still continued to ebb.

I wasn't just a freak. I was a monster.

Memories came pouring back to me. I'd tasted blood as a child, too. I remembered.

Sinking to the ground, I cried until my throat hurt. I was waiting for the carny guys to come back and bring the cops with them. I would spend the rest of my life in jail.

I didn't know how much time pa.s.sed, the body of my victim rapidly cooling beside me. The moon crossed the sky overhead, the occasional voices or footsteps pa.s.sing by me on the other side of the wall, before fading away. Until eventually, the hour grew so late-or perhaps so early-that the rest of the world slept.

The grumble of an engine lured me out of my grief-stricken haze. The sound grew louder as it approached, and then slowed and stopped on the other side of the wall. I steeled myself. This was it. They were coming to get me. I wasn't even sure I wanted to fight any more.

I looked up to see who had come for me-Bulldog Mackenzie, or even the cops-but instead Riley stood before me in his leather jacket, his jaw-length hair hanging in his face, his dark blue eyes darting in horror between me and the bloodied mess of a body I had left.

"Jesus, Icy. What the h.e.l.l happened?"

I stared back at him and then glanced at the body at my side. Jordy's face was white in the moonlight, drained of blood, his eyes still open and staring. The gaping hole in his throat appeared black.

"He ... He attacked me," I managed, before the tears took hold again. Before I knew what was happening, Riley was at my side, crouched to my level. He gathered me up in his arms, pressing my face to his chest, so I inhaled the musty scent of his leather jacket.

"Shh," he said, the palm of his hand pressed against my hair. "It's all right. It's all going to be all right."

Why was he doing this, holding me? He should be running right now, and screaming like h.e.l.l, letting everyone know about the monster in their midst.

"It's not okay," I sniffed. I wanted to move away from him, but at the same time, I didn't ever want to let go. "I killed a man."

Riley leaned to one side to get a look at Jordy again. "And a d.a.m.n thorough job you did of it too. How did you do that, Icy? It looks like you ripped his throat out."

That's cause I did ...

I forced myself to move away from him, though my soul cried out at the feeling of s.p.a.ce between us again. "I can't get you involved."

"Don't be crazy. I already am involved."

"You should be furious at me. Why haven't you called the police already?"

"It was self-defense, wasn't it? Anyway, carny people don't get the cops involved, ever. We handle our own business."

I sniffed again. "But I'm not a carny."

"No, I am. And you're my business now."

"Why?"

He scowled at me. "Stop giving me an argument every time I open my mouth. Now do you want help or not?"

"I want help," I admitted, my voice tiny.

"Good. I know somewhere we can go to get rid of the body. Just wait here one minute."

I didn't want to be left alone again with Jordy's corpse, but I forced myself to keep my mouth shut, not wanting to give Riley a quarrel, and so proving him right about my argumentative skills.

Within a minute, Riley was back, dragging his bike with him. "This is going to be awkward, and a bit gross, but I can't think of any other way. We'll haul him onto the front of the bike. I'll sit behind the body, and you sit behind me, okay? You'll have to hold on tight, cause you're not going to have any seat s.p.a.ce, and we're going to be off-roading. Got it?"

"Got it."

I didn't want Riley to mess up his bike with Jordy's blood, though most of it was no longer in him. But I knew trying to convince him to do something else wouldn't work, so I said nothing.

"How strong are you feeling?" he asked.

"Strong." He had no idea how strong.

Together, we lifted Jordy and positioned his body over the handlebars, his torso slumping forward, arms hanging down, his fat a.s.s positioned on the seat. Riley sat astride, having to effectively wrap his arms around Jordy's body in order to reach the handlebars.

He kicked the bike into life, and I climbed on behind him. My stomach roiled with nerves.

Riley headed away from the wall and the road, crossing the scrubland and a field to head deeper into the forest. We b.u.mped and jolted across the rough terrain, the body occasionally slipping so we had to stop and readjust it. Riley handled the bike with impressive skill, leaning when needed, slowing down or speeding up at other times, like a horse rider who understood his animal on an instinctive level.

I had to force myself not to take pleasure in my close proximity to Riley, knowing there was a dead man right in front of us, and that his blood still coated my clothes. It was hard work trying to have the reactions and thought processes of a normal girl, when every part of me knew I wasn't.

Chapter.