17. Juliette
Juliette
LITTLE MISS FOLKLORE GOES TO THE MOVIES
“Istill can’t get over the fact that he made you eat your own mother’s heart,” Scotty says as we make our way past the old junkyard toward the drive-in theater.
I haven’t been out this way in a few decades.
It’s changed a lot since my last visit. The streets are empty.
No Helsings out on patrol, so there is nothing to eat.
I shrug as we come up to the drive-in ticket booth. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say in response. Luckily, I don’t have to say anything as Scotty slides up to the booth and grins at the young human woman sitting behind the window. Her expression sours when she sees the pair of us.
“You need a car to visit the drive-in,” she says in a bored drawl. “No car, no entry.”
Scotty’s eyes flicker from bright red to amber, like someone flipped a switch inside of him.
Merde. Watching him lean into the booth with his easy lopsided grin and boyish charm does something to my cold, dead heart.
The sensation quickens in my throat and sends a long-forgotten wave down toward my … my…
“Hey, doll. We’re going to go right on in if that’s all right with you,” he says, his voice light and friendly.
But his feral expression is anything but.
He’s a predator. And despite his age, a formidable one, I’m finally noticing.
I linger behind him and fidget with the sleeves of my hoodie, unsure of what to do with my hands. I never know what to do with my hands.
“It’s six fifty for two tickets,” the girl says, her voice suddenly monotone. Enthralled. He could tell her to take a long walk off a short pier right now and she’d do it. Not that Scotty would ever do such a thing. He’s too nice. Too sincere for such a cold world.
He runs his fingers through his dark hair, pushing it away from his eyes, and I bite my bottom lip. Oh. Oh.
“Nah,” he says. “We’re going to go in for free, thanks.”
The girl nods as she stares straight ahead. Her pupils are enormous, the size of dinner plates. “Yes. Go right on in. Enjoy the show.”
“Thanks,” he mutters, and starts to walk away. But then he backtracks and says, “Oh, can we get a couple of those popcorn tickets, too?”
The girl, still enthralled, slides a couple of popcorn tickets to him underneath the sheet of glass.
The glass is to protect her, I suppose …
but it would never stop us. Scotty winks at her, grabs the tickets, and then slips his hand into mine without thinking.
My throat tightens as his fingers lace between mine and he pulls me along.
My feet are slow to answer, and I nearly trip on a rock as we make our way down to where the cars sit.
“Sorry,” he says, slowing his pace so I can keep up. “You okay? It’s been ages since I’ve done that, so I wasn’t sure how long it was going to last.”
I shake my head. “Mm, no. You did very well, in fact. But what are we doing? Are we not getting something to eat?”
“We are, but I couldn’t resist stopping here first.” He plops down in the grass behind the rows of cars.
The glow of the movie screen catches my attention for a fleeting second.
An enormous lagoon creature approaches a screaming woman as she tries to run away.
Some couples in their cars snuggle together like mated mourning doves.
It’s only when Scotty’s thumb traces my knuckles that I remember he’s still holding my hand.
I flinch, and instantly regret it.
He pulls his hand away and winces, and I shuffle away in the grass. “Sorry,” I mutter.
Scotty rubs the back of his neck and looks down at the grass. “Don’t be sorry. Why should you be sorry? I’m the one who fucked up, touching you without—”
“It’s fine, Scotty,” I interject quickly.
My fingers fiddle with the ends of the hoodie sleeves.
My throat tightens, and all I want to do is …
what do I want to do? Hug him? That would be strange, non?
I barely know this vampire. He barely knows me.
We’ve certainly shared much of ourselves so far, however.
More than I would ever share with a stranger.
“I did not hate it. I was just surprised, is all.”
Scotty stares at me blankly for a moment, then asks, “In that case, would you mind if I held your hand, Juliette?”
After a few moments, I slide back over to him in the grass and offer him my hand. He rests his hand in my palm, then curls his fingers around it for a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for entertaining my nonsense all night.”
I can’t help but smile at him. “It’s fine, Scotty. I’ve enjoyed the distraction. But again, why are we here?”
Scotty shrugs and looks back at the screen.
The lagoon monster is still wreaking havoc.
What an odd thing for the humans to watch.
Why do they enjoy witnessing such violence?
I’ll never understand it. They have countless atrocities in the real world they can look at instead of this …
whatever it is. I enjoy a good classic film, but horror is not to my taste.
“It’s your death day,” he says with another shrug, as though it were obvious. “And I wanted to take the prettiest girl in the city out to see a movie. Then hopefully get some dinner after. Like a date?”
If I had a pulse, it would be hammering in my ears right now.
And if I had a pulse, not even the cloak of night could obfuscate the blush on my cheeks.
Scotty allows his gaze to linger on me for just a little too long, and he picks up my hand to bring it to his face.
When his lips brush against my knuckles, I shiver.
His lips are cold and coarse but also perfect in every sense of the word.
I need to feel them on my … on my everything. My neck, my mouth, my—
“Is this okay?” he asks. “Just let me know if I’m making you uncomfortable.”
I nod. “Non. This is fine, thank you.”
The sound of the woman shrieking bloody murder in the movie makes me jerk my head toward the screen. Scotty lets out a soft chuckle, and I allow myself to dissolve into a fit of giggles in the grass. I pull my hand from his grasp and cover my face with my palms as I roll around.
What is happening to me? Non, what is wrong with me? I am acting like some sort of besotted girl when I am hundreds of years old. Putain, I am stupid.
“So she can laugh,” Scotty says, bringing me back to reality. A couple people in their convertible cars in front of us turn around to shush me. Scotty glares at them, offering them a glimpse of his fangs. The woman in the car lets out a soft squeak before turning back around.
“Only sometimes,” I say, brushing the grass off my hoodie. “Do not expect it to happen again.”
Scotty nudges me in the side and grins like a fool. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”
“Merde,” I mutter.
“I’ll get you to laugh and smile like that again. It’s a promise.” Scotty looms closer, still grinning like the giant idiot that he is. “I want to put my arm around you.”
I shrug. “Fine. Do it.”
Without hesitation, he wraps his arm around me and pulls me against his body. My body feels like it’s on fire. How is this even possible when my heart hasn’t taken a single beat in centuries?
A gangly teenaged boy walks past holding a tray of popcorn boxes in his arms.
“Psst, ’ey! Over here,” Scotty calls to the boy. The boy turns around and ambles over to us. He clearly doesn’t want to be here. “Got a popcorn ticket.” Scotty waves the ticket in the air. He and the teen trade the tickets for popcorn, and then the boy disappears into the crowd of cars.
“Why are you eating more food? Do you truly wish to vomit again this evening?” I ask. “Listen, I do not normally judge others for their hobbies. But if you actually enjoy throwing up, I have to wonder about your mental state.”
Scotty holds the box of popcorn up to his nose and sucks in a deep breath.
I tilt my head at him. “Merde. You are weird.”
He looks down at me and laughs. “No worries, love. Not gonna scarf and barf again. Just like to remember the good old days, is all.”
“The good old days of being alive, you mean?” I ask.
He nods. “I liked going to the movies by myself after work and eating as much popcorn as I could.”
Yes. He is young. Not even a century old, yet. Of course he still yearns for his human life. After his first century, that desire will die.
I look back at the screen to catch a glimpse of the movie monster stalking its prey. Scotty runs his hand up and down my arm and whispers in my ear, “I heard a rumor. Just some gossip. There’s a lagoon monster like this one right here in Mystella.”
I let out a snort. “There are no such things. They are not real, Scotty.”
He peers down at me. I cannot read his expression. His lips curl into a half smile, half grimace, and he squints.
“What?” I ask, blinking.
Scotty speaks in the worst mock-French accent I have ever heard in my life. “Zey ahre not reál. Zey ahre just storiés.”
I frown. “They are. And don’t make fun of my accent or I will have to start mocking yours.”
“I’d love to see you try, love. And you really have no room to talk, little miss folk tale,” he says.
“You’re not supposed to exist, either. We were told stories in our covens about the Nosferatu, a secret sect of vampires who were created by drinking the blood of Kasha the Naga Goddess.
” He wiggles his fingers in my face. “Oooh, scary.”
“Yes. And it is true. We were originally created from her blood as retaliation for her murder.”
“So, then what makes you think the lagoon monster doesn’t exist?” he asks.
I bite my bottom lip. “You are annoying.”
He leans down to press his nose against my forehead, nuzzling it, and suddenly I am acutely aware of my every nerve ending, my every cell.
My entire body tenses, unused to physical affection, if that’s what this truly is.
Unused to a touch that doesn’t hurt, doesn’t make me want to scream, doesn’t make me want to tear myself apart with my own claws.
Whatever this is, it feels … correct.