Chapter 8 #2
“An apex predator with a total disregard for anything or anyone? An intelligent killing machine,” I answered, completely baffled by the concept.
“Dat about sums it up. However, what I just described is what de worst-case scenario would look like,” he said, confirming what I already figured out.
“Alright. Are you going to elaborate further, or just keep being broad in your descriptions? I need answers—not riddles and life lessons.” I had a low tolerance for bullshit and beating around the bush.
He stared into the fire for a long moment before speaking again.
“Everything is real. All of it. Ye want me to just lay it all out on de table for ye? Bigfoot, faeries, werewolves, vampires—all of de tings we were told didn’t exist—dey do. Ray knew it long before I did.”
Ronan sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“Look, I really don’t want to overload ye wit information. I feel like ye should process tings as we go. Besides, ye aren’t going to just believe everything dat comes out of me mouth. Trust me on dat one.”
This is the point where Charlotte decides to open her mouth.
“It’s all real. He isn’t lying.”
I turned toward her slowly.
“So, am I just supposed to believe that all these things exist? Does anyone want to explain how Charlotte is so sure of this? You never believed Grandpa when he told us these things were real.”
Charlotte let out a sharp breath, her jaw tightening.
“The guy that took me was a vampire. A scary-as-hell, real-life fucking vampire. I know you think I’m a fuck-up.
God knows I can’t possibly be as smart as you.
” Her voice cracked, but she kept going.
“I didn’t ask to be kidnapped. He had me in this dirty, rundown motel, tied up.
He kept telling me that he didn’t want to be alone; that he couldn’t be alone.
He had some fucked-up plan to turn me into a vampire.
I would be dead if Ronan hadn’t found me. ”
I stared at her, stunned—and unconvinced.
“You do know that you sound like a dumbass, right? Are you smoking something other than weed?”
Her eyes flashed with anger.
“I know it sounds like bullshit. You really think I don’t know that? You think I’m full of shit. Or high. Or imagining things.”
“Can you blame me?” I shot back. “That’s usually exactly what the situation is.”
She flinched, but didn’t back down.
“I get it. But this time, I’m not making shit up. I saw him watching me at the club. He talked to me outside the bathroom. He told me I was beautiful. Said Sean was very lucky to have my attention.”
I crossed my arms.
“Okay, so then he breaks through your window and snatches you out of your bed?”
“Yeah, pretty much, asshole.” Her voice hardened.
“He shattered the window and threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. Then he jumped back out. Effortlessly. Landed on the grass, barely making a sound. I was screaming. Punching him as hard as I could. He didn’t even flinch.
He just ran. Straight across the yard and into the forest. I lost all sense of direction. ”
She paused, swallowing hard.
The next thing I knew, I was in the trunk of a car. He took rough roads. I got banged around pretty good.”
She lifted her shirt, and dark bruises spread across her back and abdomen.
My stomach tightened.
“Yeah,” I said bitterly. “I’m the asshole. I’m the one that’s always wrecking your fun and trying to get you to act like a fucking adult.”
“Anyway, when the car stopped, the trunk opened, and again, I was thrown over his shoulder. He took me into some old motel with no visible neighbors. Once he got me inside, he tied me to the bed.” She pulled up her sleeves, showing me the bruises on her wrists.
I exhaled slowly.
“Charlotte ... I believe you; I really do. It just seems that most of the time when we find ourselves in trouble, it revolves around you—or something you did.”
She nodded once, accepting it.
“I get it. Just listen, okay? I was only there for a few hours, but it felt like forever. He kept telling me that he couldn’t spend the rest of eternity alone.
He said he had to turn me into what he was.
I asked him who made him, and he told me that he wasn’t sure.
He said he was kept in the dark and never got to see who made him.
What I do know is that he had no clue how to turn me into what he was. A vampire.”
Ronan spoke carefully, his voice steady.
“He was a new vampire, and dat means because ’e ’ad no guidance, ’e wouldn’t ’ave de slightest idea ’ow to make another of ’is kind.
It would be safe to say dat de information ’e was relying on came from books or movies—and dat would be inaccurate.
He would ’ave killed ye trying to turn ye.
So it was very fortunate dat we found ye when we did. ”
Charlotte swallowed hard, absorbing the truth of how close she had come to dying.
“This is all pretty insane,” I admitted. “You can’t really blame me if I don’t just jump on the bandwagon.”
“No,” Ronan said gently. “I can’t blame ye for not just taking what we are saying as gospel truth.
But I can tell ye dis—de longer ye take to believe, de longer ye remain unprepared.
And dat makes ye vulnerable. I can do me best to protect ye, but if ye choose to ignore de truth, ye make dat job much ’arder. ”
His words settled heavily in the air. This wasn’t just about belief—this was about survival.
“Joslyn, he is telling you the truth. I know it all sounds like bullshit, but I was there. I know what I saw. I’m not on drugs—that’s not what this is. Do you really think that Ronan and I are both trying to convince you of something so far-fetched that we sound absolutely insane?”
I didn’t know what to do or what to think. It was too much. My brain hurt.
I stood abruptly.
Ronan moved to stand with me, but I held up my hand.
“Stay. I just need a minute.”
I turned and walked inside.
My thoughts were chaos. They slammed into each other so fast I couldn’t separate one from the next. My grandfather never said anything like this. Not like this. He told stories—entertaining, mysterious stories—but never this. I felt betrayed.
How did Ronan know all of this while I knew nothing?
It was as if I didn’t know my grandfather at all. And that was pissing me off. I turned back toward the door and took a breath.
Anger surged inside me, and I was at my breaking point. Done—I was just done—with everything and everyone.
I stood near the door, staring into the dark, forcing myself to breathe.
Inhale.
Exhale.
When I stepped back outside, the fire crackled softly. Such a calming sound, utterly mocking the gravity of everything else that whirled around me.
I made my decision.
“I’m leaving in the morning,” I said, my voice calm in a way that surprised even me. “I’m going home.”
Neither of them spoke.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I continued. “Charlotte, if you want to fly back together fine; if not, that’s fine too.” I shifted my attention to Ronan.
“I assume whenever Charlotte decides to leave, I would imagine that she would like you to close up the house or whatever. That’s between you two and has nothing to do with me so you can discuss that with her.
I am going to bed, I don’t expect you to drive home.
There is a spare room across from Charlotte’s room. Good night.”
“I will fly back with you,” Charlotte said as I was walking back into the house.
I kicked off my shoes, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed to my room. After I booked the plane tickets from my phone, the confirmation email arrived seconds later.
I lay down, staring at the ceiling.
I didn’t want to think anymore, but my mind refused to cooperate. I tossed and turned for what felt like hours.
At some point, I heard Charlotte moving down the hall, the faint creak of my grandfather’s bedroom door opening and closing.
Eventually, exhaustion won.
When I woke up in the morning, I made it downstairs and brewed coffee. When it was finished I took a mug back upstairs with me. The familiar routine helped steady me.
Packing was easier than I expected. I folded clothes mechanically, placing them into my suitcase with detached efficiency.
When I finished, I carried my coffee down the hall and knocked on the bedroom door where Charlotte was sleeping.
She stirred inside.
I cracked the door open.
“We’re leaving for the airport in four hours,” I said quietly.
I closed the door and returned to my room, grabbed my suitcase, and carried it downstairs. I left it beside the door.
The sudden chime of the doorbell cut through the silence.
I opened the door to a middle-aged man holding a clipboard and toolbox.
“Hi, I’m Carl. I’m here to check out the window so we can order a new one.”
I glanced over Carl’s shoulder and noticed that Ronan’s truck was gone.
“Please, come in,” I said, “I’ll show you the window.”
I led him upstairs to Charlotte’s bedroom and stepped aside as he examined the damage.
“It should only take me a few minutes,” he said, setting down his toolbox.
“Take your time,” I replied. “We aren’t going anywhere for a while.”
I returned to the kitchen and poured myself more coffee. I was scrolling through my emails, drinking coffee, when I heard Charlotte and the repairman descend the stairs.
Charlotte’s voice murmured something polite. Then I heard the door open and close—the repairman leaving.
Charlotte walked into the kitchen and pulled a mug from the cupboard, pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“So, what time are we leaving?”
“The taxi will be here at three o’clock.”
She nodded. “I better go pack then.”
She carried her coffee upstairs without another word.
I couldn’t wait to get home. I was exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally. This trip had taken more out of me than I ever anticipated. I had accomplished what I came here to do. I opened the safety deposit box. That was enough.