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  I drew in a deep breath. I had really been hoping to avoid this part. “I kind of… uh… don’t know how.”

  “Lola,” he said in an oddly strained voice. “What are you talking about?”

  Oh boy. “I’ve never exactly driven a car before and I don’t know where the switch is,” I admitted. Honestly, it was a miracle I had gotten it down the driveway without hitting something. Travis should have been happy.

  Silence. And then…

  “WHAT?”

  “Shut up!” In the darkness I found his mouth and slapped my hand over it. It was a good thing it was dark inside the car so Travis couldn’t see my face was the approximate color of a tomato. “I wasn’t planning on actually driving it anywhere,” I said. “Are you going to be quiet now?”

  He shook his head, which I took to mean ‘yes’, and I slowly withdrew my hand.

  “You’re insane,” he said the second his mouth was uncovered. “Absolutely nuts. You told me you got your driver’s license six months ago.”

  “I lied. I don’t even have my permit.”

  “Don’t even… No permit… Crazy…” He continued to sputter out random words while I snuck another look at the house. Still no lights. That decided it. Mr. Livingston was either asleep or not home. A pet must have knocked something over which explained the loud noise. We were in the clear.

  “Let’s go,” I said. I opened up the door and shut it silently behind me, holding extra long to the handle so there wasn’t even a click as it went back into place. The lights inside the car popped on, just like I thought they would. I glared at Travis through the window and tapped my wrist, a clear signal that time was ticking away.

  Travis, being Travis, scrambled across the center console and spilled out of the driver’s side door. He landed hard on his hands and knees. Grabbing his elbow, I hauled him up to his feet. He dusted himself off and straightened up, still angry, but at least capable of talking coherently again.

  “I hate you,” he said succinctly.

  “Where is your backpack?” I asked, ignoring him.

  His head swiveled around as he tried to look over his shoulder.

  I sighed. “You left it in the car, didn’t you?”

  “Shut up,” he mumbled.

  “Go grab it. I’ll keep a look out. Then we are – did you hear that?” I broke off with a frown. I tilted my head to the side and closed my eyes, trying to pin point the direction of the sound.

  “Hear what? I don’t hear anything.”

  “It sounded like… A cry for help,” I decided. My eyes opened. I frowned at Travis. “You really didn’t hear that?”

  “I told you I didn’t hear -”

  But Travis never got finish what he going to say as a blood curdling scream the likes of which I had never heard outside of a horror movie tore through the night.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I Knock on a Door

  “Did you hear that?” I asked Travis.

  “We have to c-call the police,” he stuttered, looking physically ill. I didn’t blame him. I was feeling a little queasy myself. A human being doesn’t make a noise like that unless they’re in some serious pain.

  “And tell them what? We were about to steal some guy’s car when we heard him scream? No way,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s dumb.”

  Travis staggered over to the side of the driveway and sank down on his haunches. “Bad idea,” he said to himself. “I knew this was a bad, bad idea. Lame, man. Really lame.”

  “What if we call your mom?” I suggested.

  Genuine terror filled Travis’s eyes. “No way. Absolutely not. I would rather go in the house myself.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s do it. Let’s go. I’ll knock on the front door and you go around back and look in the windows. We can’t just leave without doing anything.”

  Travis might have been a chicken, but he was a chicken who knew right from wrong. “I would rather steal the car,” he said glumly.

  “Saving a guy’s life from a psycho axe murderer is so much cooler than stealing a car. We’ll be famous. Mr. Livingston will probably give us a reward or something.” With one hundred dollar bills dancing in from of my eyes I started walking towards the front door. It wasn’t far from the driveway and the stone walkway was illuminated with ground lights, making it easy navigate. I heard a loud sigh and then the noisy shuffle of Travis’s sneakers as he caught up to me.

  “This is such a bad idea,” he said. “What if there really is an axe murderer or you know, a robber or something?”

  “Then I’ll use my cell phone and call the police.”

  “Why not call the police now?”

  “Because we’re right here.” And we were. The front door loomed in front of me, a silent taunt to go ahead and prove my mettle. I raised my fist to knock. Hesitated. Glanced at Travis. “Go around back and see if you can see anything.”

  He looked at me like I was nuts. “Don’t you know the first rule of not getting killed by a crazy axe murderer? You never split up.”

  Since Travis was the horror movie guru, I decided to take his word for it. “If someone opens this door,” I said out of the corner of my mouth, “and pulls me inside you better have my back. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  I felt his hand press reassuringly against my shoulder and I took a deep breath.

  Why are you knocking on a stranger’s door after you just heard screaming coming from inside, Lola? asked the rational side of my brain.

  Because I can, said the reckless part.

  I knocked on the door.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Travis Doesn’t Listen Very Well

  The door swung silently open under the weight of my fist. I jumped back like a scalded cat and bumped into Travis who went flying into a flowerbed. He must have landed on one of the creepy garden gnomes because he released a totally embarrassing high pitched squeal before he got to his feet and staggered back over to me. From the dim overhead light I could see dirt smeared his left cheek and pieces of grass clung to his hair. Reaching out I plucked half a petunia from behind his ear and rolled my eyes.

  “You would never make a good spy,” I told him.

  “That’s because I don’t want to be a spy,” he gritted out. “I want to be an accountant!”

  “Same thing.” I shrugged.

  “It is not the same thing at all! It is the furthest thing… from… oh.” Travis’s voice trailed away. “Hello,” he finished weakly.

  I whirled around and tried not to stare. There, standing in the open doorway, was the largest man I had ever seen.

  He wasn’t large width wise. Rather, he was large all over in the way those wrestlers were on TV, the ones that hit each other with chairs and made lots of grunting noises. His hair was white blond and slicked back from his face with some kind of oil. A leather jacket, totally not PETA approved, enveloped his upper body and came all the way down to his knees. Gold rings flashed on his hands when he crossed his arms in front of his barrel sized chest and said, “Can I help you?”

  Surprisingly it was Travis who recovered first. “We – uh – heard a weird – uh – noise and we’re just – uh – ”

  “Why are you not in your houses?” The man interjected, narrowing blue eyes that were only a few shades darker than ice.

  When Travis’s mouth gaped open and closed like a fish gasping for air, I took over. “Where is Mr. Livingston?” I asked loudly.

  “I am Mr. Livingston,” said the man. He grinned, revealing gleaming white teeth that I instinctively flinched away from. I was trying to look him in the eyes, to show him I wasn’t afraid even though his ham sized fists could do some serious damage to my internal organs, but for some reason it physically wasn’t working. I could gaze into those ice blue eyes for half a second before something in my brain short wired and I had to look away. Within seconds my head was throbbing to beat the band and my stomach was doing greasy flips. The man’s smile widened.

  “Would you like to come
in the house?” he asked, gesturing broadly with one tree trunk sized arm. “You and your companion are not looking well.”

  “What?” I gasped. “Of course we’re not going inside, who do you take us for complete -”

  “We would love to come in,” said Travis.

  “What?” I said again, although this time it came out as more of a strangled yelp. I tried to grab Travis’s arm but he shook free with surprising force and walked straight through the door.

  “Travis Robert Callahan, you get out here THIS MINUTE!” I yelled after him.

  The man in the leather jacket laughed and winked one blue eye at me and said, “He is gone now, little girl.”

  I didn’t like the way he said ‘gone’. It wasn’t a ‘gone to the store and he’ll be right back’ kind of gone. It was a ‘he has moved to a different country and you’ll never see him again’ kind of gone. I took a wary step backwards. The man’s eyes narrowed. It was a faint movement, almost imperceptible. I retreated another step. His upper lip curled.

  “You do not want to come in the house with your friend?” he said.

  I noticed his grin was a little more forced now. He almost looked… confused. As if he couldn’t understand why I had not followed Travis into the house. “You come out here,” I challenged, spreading my arms wide. “You want me? Come and get me.”

  He didn’t like that. One booted foot stepped across the doorway. I braced myself, ready to run, but with a hiss of pain he snatched his foot back. Tiny curls of smoke swirled up from the leather toe.

  “What the hell…” I breathed, staring at his boot. He snapped his teeth like a feral dog and again they glinted in the moonlight. This time I saw why.

  Silver. He had fangs of silver.

  I recoiled with a little shriek of alarm and landed hard on my butt. “TRAVIS!” I cried desperately as I scrambled to my feet. “TRAVIS, GET OUT HERE!” My heart was pounding like a drum inside my chest. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Didn’t want to believe it.

  Grinning lewdly, the man ran his tongue across his top lip in a provocative gesture that turned my stomach. “Best run along home, little girl,” he said. “You cannot save your precious Travis now.”

  “Who are you?” I demanded. I almost said ‘what’ are you, but I stopped myself just in time. Take it easy, Lola. He’s just a freak with fake teeth. Get a grip.

  “I have gone by many names. I have been many things. Come inside,” he coaxed, his blue eyes filled with cunning. “Come inside and I will tell you everything you want to know.”

  I actually took a step forward before I stopped myself. Part of me actually wanted to go to him. That was his power, I realized with a shudder. To create action with a mere suggestion. To coerce with an idea. That was why Travis had gone so willingly into the house. In his mind, there had not been a choice.

  “I’m calling the police. I’m calling the police and they’re going to come and arrest you.” I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialed 9-1-1. The man slouched against the side of the doorframe and watched me, his expression bored.

  “Hello?” I said when I heard the click of someone answering my call. “I need to report a – um – a kidnapping! At – uh – 233 Turner Street. There is a man here and I think he’s dangerous and he -”

  The laughter cut me off. It cackled through the phone, raising every hair on the back of my neck. A woman’s laughter, high pitched and cruel. When the laughter stopped she whispered one word before the line went dead.

  Run.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I Play a Game of Horse Shoes

  I ran. I left my best friend behind and I ran for my life. The screams chased me. They seemed to come from every house I passed. Horrible, gut wrenching screams for help, for mercy, for death. I stayed off the street and ran through stranger’s back yards. I ducked under clothes lines and crawled over fences, skinning my knees and ripping my hands apart with splinters. I tucked the pain and the fear and the terror away in some distant, dusty corner of my mind and allowed only one thought to circle round and round inside my head. One goal: get home, get Dad, and get Travis.

  Halfway across a neatly manicured yard I heard the back door slam and I dove into a cluster of bushes just in time. Helpless to do anything but cower in silence, I watched as a woman dressed in red jumped off the side of the porch and went sprinting across the lawn.

  Something was chasing her. Something fast. Something dark. It grabbed her arm and swung her around like she was a rag doll, slamming her into the side of her own pool. She crumpled to the ground, motionless, ten feet from where I hid behind a rose bush.

  Overhead the moon shifted free of the clouds that had been binding it, allowing a trickle of silver light to bathe the fallen woman and I saw, I saw even when I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my mouth to keep myself from crying out, that she was not dressed in red clothes. She was dressed in blood.

  The thing that had chased the woman stopped and sniffed the air. It was human yet not human. A girl yet not a girl. She could have gone to my school. She could have sat next to me in math class. Her hair, brown and sleek and swept over one shoulder, was normal. Her clothes, blue jeans and a gray sweatshirt, could have been worn by any teenager the world over. But her piercing blue eyes… and the blood that dribbled down her chin… That was about as far from normal as you could get.

  Her head swung towards me. Those unnatural eyes searched the bushes, traveling leisurely back and forth across my hiding spot. I held my breath. Just go inside, I begged silently. Just go inside and leave me alone.

  “I smell you little human,” she said in a sing song voice. “You smell like sugar and spice and something quite nice.”

  My right foot was cramping up. I flexed my toes, fighting off the pins and needles. The tiny movement nearly made me lose my balance. I wavered to the right and managed to catch myself. My fingers touched something hard. Something metal. Slowly, silently, I pulled it from the ground and clutched it to my chest. A horse shoe. The big, heavy kind people threw in sand pits. No, not a horse shoe. A weapon.

  “I want to play a game.” The girl pouted. She nudged the bloody woman. Sighed. “And now I’ve broken my toy. Come out, come out, wherever you are. I promise to be much more careful with you.” She started to walk in a big, wandering circle. When she turned away from me I attacked.

  Holding the horse shoe tightly in my right hand I launched myself at her legs, just below the knees. She went down instantly and I swung the horse shoe without pause, striking her head again and again and again until blood splattered up and coated my face and chest. She tried to fight back but surprise and a healthy fear of not dying had given me the advantage.

  I straddled her waist, pinning her down beneath me. With a strength that defied logic she managed to flip herself over and her nails, filed to points, raked out and whipped across my cheek. The cuts burned like someone had poured acid in them and I screamed, but didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Instinct had taken over, and I was more animal than human as I fought for my life.

  Her nose shattered, then her jaw. Her eyes bulged and I jammed my thumb to the hilt in the left one, just like Mrs. Hamilton had taught us to do in self defense.

  The girl howled like a wild animal and bucked her hips, trying to throw me off, but I clung to her with the knowledge that if I didn’t knock her out – or worse – I wouldn’t be leaving this backyard alive.

  “I will kill you for this,” she snarled, glaring daggers at me with her one good eye. Her teeth snapped an inch from my face and caught my hair. She ripped a chunk of it out by the roots and spat it in the grass beside her.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I kept repeating the same words over and over, not realizing until they come out all choked up that I was crying. I brought the horse shoe down again. And again. And again. So many times I lost count. When the girl went limp and her head fell back, mouth open, eye closed, I leaped to my feet, ready to run. But something stopped me. Something pulled at me.

  I
stared down at the girl I had beaten with a kind of horrified fascination. With her mouth open I could see her fangs. Like the man’s they were silver and looked like daggers, slightly curved and deadly sharp. I wondered if they were natural, if they were real, or if the girl was just part of some crazy cult that had decided to attack the entire town.

  The horse shoe dropped to the lawn with a soft thump. Slowly I knelt down beside the girl’s head and reached out with one trembling hand. If I could just touch the fangs… If I could just feel them… They really were quite beautiful. The way they glistened in the moonlight… It was unlike anything I had ever seen before.

  My fingertips brushed against one fang and it happened in an instant. One second the girl was motionless and the next she had her teeth clamped down on my hand and was shaking her head back and forth like a dog worrying a bone.

  I screamed and fell back. She released my hand and I clutched it to my chest, expecting to see it ravaged beyond repair, but the only visible damage were two small pinpricks of blood where her fangs had entered the skin. Yet it burned. Oh, God, my entire arm was burning and I was screaming and the girl was laughing.

  She sprang to her feet, nimble as a cat, and sauntered over to where I was rolling in the dirt, frantically trying to put out the invisible fire that was consuming my body inch by inch.

  “Peek a boo, I got you,” she giggled before her lips curled into a deadly snarl and she crouched over me, a predator covering it’s prey. I stared into her eyes, glittering with malice. I looked at her face, a face that had healed itself in a matter of seconds.

  And I knew I was going to die.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Pet That Ran Away

  You know how they say right before you die your life flashes in front of your eyes? Yeah. That didn’t happen for me.

  I held perfectly still as the girl traced a single fingernail down across my cheek and hooked it under my jaw, poking until I felt a drop of blood slide down my neck, warm and sticky. She poked again, harder this time, puncturing another hole in my skin as if I was some sort of human piñata and my blood was the candy.