19. Juliette
Juliette
DON’T PLAY WITH YOUR FOOD
“We all lose our innocence the moment we are turned,” I say. “It is the way of things.”
The movie screen has gone dark, and the light from the ticket booth flicks off. Everything is shutting down, leaving the two of us alone in the darkness.
Scotty is uncharacteristically silent as he stares down at his hands, his fingers flexing like they’re trying to grasp for something, or someone. I think I know who he yearns for. I place one of my palms in his, and he flinches.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I got a little … carried away.”
I nod. “It is all right. But the movie is over. Your story, however, is not?”
He shakes his head. “Later. I don’t think I want to continue being in this headspace, if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course it is,” I say, and tug his hand, beckoning him to stand with me. “Besides.” I brush some grass off my front. “We still have supper to find. But this was a nice diversion, I will admit.”
He shoots me a lopsided grin as we walk, hand in hand, out of the drive-in theater. “Yeah? Think you’d want to do this again sometime? Hang out, take in a movie. Fool around a little?”
Fool around. That’s what he’s calling it. My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. “Perhaps. I don’t make this sort of thing a habit, you know.”
Merde. What have I gotten myself into now?
We make our way back the way we came. When I hunt, I only do so in my own neighborhood.
It’s no good to be too far from home. All Nosferatu must be within their coffin, or at least home base, before dawn.
Not out of the sun—at home. Regular vampires do not suffer that particular curse, and I am jealous.
Scotty could go to any city in any part of the world, and, so long as he is not out in the sunlight, he will survive. But not me.
Not unless I created a new nest for myself, which is time-consuming and requires too much virginal blood for the ritual.
When we pass the familiar markets and storefronts, Scotty’s gait changes.
It’s subtle, the way his easy-going stride turns more clipped, more intentional.
But I catch it. This version of Scotty is probably the role he played with his Harriett.
“Is Sugardove City very different from New York, then?” I ask as we pass parked cars and discarded beer cans on the street.
“Yes and no,” he says, squeezing my hand a little.
I look down at our locked hands and catch myself grinning. Merde. This is no time to be acting like a lovesick schoolgirl, Juliette. This vampire is not actually interested in you. He is interested in his survival. That is all.
“There’s similarities, sure. Lots of drunks, lots of homeless. Lots of cops aggravating the piss out of things. Different vibes, I guess. Different buildings. And there’s the monsters, of course. The freaks and the creatures the humans like to pretend don’t exist.”
I open my mouth to ask another question, only to catch the scent of humans nearby. But these humans are not drunk, nor are they ordinary. Probably Helsings, at last.
Scotty must smell them, too, because he stops walking and turns toward me. “I think there’s someone up ahead.”
Nodding, I release his hand and crouch low to the ground. “Not just someone. The distinctive odeur of Helsing uniforms.”
Helsings do not seem to realize they give off a different scent to us vampires thanks to the material of their uniforms. A fatal mistake, and one I hope they never realize. It makes them much easier to hunt.
Scotty drops behind a car, and the muffled sound of men talking echoes down the nearby alleyway. Their voices grow louder by the second, and finally, one of them appears at the alleyway’s entrance, his enormous gun in his hands.
“Did you see the look on her face before we killed her?” The Helsing lets out a laugh while one of his friends steps into view beside him. “I’ve never seen them look so pathetic before.”
“They made them seem worse in training, that’s for sure,” the other Helsing says. He’s not holding a crossbow in his hands, but I can see one latched on his belt. It seems they’ve gotten more compact in recent years.
Merde, I will make them eat every last one of those bullets if it’s the last thing I do on this earth.
I lean against the wall of the building, making sure to hide my face underneath my hood. The Helsings stop laughing and look in my direction. Yes, good little boys. Look this way. Come to me, foolish children.
“Hey,” one of them calls over to me. I pretend to ignore him, and he starts walking in my direction. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”
Scotty tenses behind the car, and his eyes go wide. But he doesn’t have to worry. I’ve been doing this far longer than he has even been alive.
I point at myself. The Helsings both snort. “Yeah, you. Take your hood down. Let us see your face. What are you doing out here?”
I shrug and turn my back to them, then begin walking away.
Predictably, the Helsings give chase. When I look over my shoulder, I see that the one clutching his gun is gaining on me.
But Scotty leaves the safety of his hiding spot, also as I predicted, and stalks behind them like a dark, looming specter.
He grabs the Helsing lagging behind and snaps his neck in silence before he even has a chance to understand what’s happening. Before his body can fall to the ground, Scotty catches it and lays it down gently on the pavement. One down, one to go.
The Helsing with the gun doesn’t even realize his buddy has been killed, that’s how single-minded he is. “I told you to wait! Stop, or I’ll shoot!”
I stop dead in my tracks and put my hands up. “P-Please,” I say in a mock-pleading tone. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”
When I turn around slowly, the Helsing aims his gun straight for my chest. Scotty’s fangs gleam in the moonlight as he moves behind the Helsing like a cat ready to pounce. And then he grabs the man by the back of his neck and slams him into the ground.
The gun goes off, but luckily, it’s aimed at the stars before it drops to the ground beside the human.
“What the fuck!” he screams. Scotty drops on top of the Helsing’s chest and lets out a primal snarl that awakens an ache deep within my core. Merde. He is far too attractive when he’s like this. “Where did you come from?!”
Scotty smirks as he leans down. “I guess that’s what happens when you don’t pay attention. Someone gets the drop on you. But unlike the last poor vampire you killed, I’m not afraid of you.”
The Helsing yelps, and Scotty presses a finger over the human’s mouth. “Shh, shh. You think it’s fun, murdering people? Do you?”
“You’re not people,” the Helsing says through a grimace of pain, and spits in Scotty’s face. Scotty wipes the saliva from his face with the back of his hand, completely unfazed by the insult.
I cross my arms as I watch Scotty. He’s playing with his food at this point, yes, but after the night we’ve both had, I will allow it this one time.
“Do you think it’s funny, hurting women? Hurting girls smaller than yourself?” He hisses, his eyes going preternaturally dark. The Helsing’s veins throb in his neck, and all I can think about is gorging myself on his blood.
“Scotty—” I start, but he isn’t finished tormenting the man. Of course he isn’t. This feels personal.
He slams the Helsing’s head into the pavement once, then twice, then a third time, until blood seeps onto the sidewalk in a thick pool.
“You thought you could just hurt her?” he roars as his fingers curl around the Helsing’s neck, squeezing it until the man’s face is almost as white as my own.
Merde. I’ve never seen him like this before.
It’s like he’s a completely different vampire than the one I rescued, and he doesn’t stop taking out his rage on the man.
It’s not that I pity the Helsing. I do not have any sympathy for this creature who blindly kills vampires without a second thought.
But I also cannot stand to watch Scotty descend into madness like this, either.
“You thought you could just take her from me?! She’s mine!” Scotty rams the Helsing’s head into the pavement again. A sickening crunch follows, along with more blood and … oh, putain. I cover my mouth as I watch. Shards of teeth join the blood on the sidewalk.
“Scotty,” I say more loudly, but he’s too lost in himself to hear me.
I rush forward and grab Scotty’s arm before he can slam the Helsing’s head a fourth time.
“Stop it!” I hiss. “You’re making too much noise! And besides … you’re wasting our dinner.”
Scotty looks up at me, his dark eyes finding mine. His fangs retract, as though he suddenly remembers himself, and he climbs off the Helsing’s chest. “Fuck me … I’m sorry.” He runs his palms down his face and paces in front of the two bodies. “I don’t know … I don’t know what came over me.”
“I do,” I say, and step toward him. “And it’s okay. Come on. Help me get these into the alleyway before someone sees us.”