Pretty When She Dies (5 page)

Waving to Damon, she drove past him. Her brother's fierce, hawkish face looked solemn. He barely nodded in acknowledgment. His look said it all.

She was in deep shit.

A fence separated her father’s homestead from the rest of the property. A few of his cars sat to one side in various stages of disrepair or repair, depending on how you looked at it. The big porch was empty of people. The big barrel next to the steps was loaded with used paper plates and cups. The party was over.

She parked near the fence and took a deep breath. Curious, she did it again, feeling her lungs expand, then contract. She sat in silence, letting her body decide what to do next. Her lungs stayed still, but she didn't feel as though she was suffocating.

“Yep, dead,” she whispered.

The porch light flicked on. She reached over to snag her cowboy hat.

It was a bit battered, but she liked it. Tucking it onto her head, she dared to look toward the screen door.

Samuel Vezorak stood on the front steps, arms folded, his face hidden in shadow.

“Hey, Dad,” she said, feeling all her desire to tell him off flow away from her like a fast current. Tears stung her eyes. To her surprise, she just wanted him to hug her and tell her it would be all right. Dragging her bag out behind her, she slid out of the truck and landed with a heavy
thunk!

“Finally decided to show up,” his thickly accented voice boomed.

“I...something went wrong,” she said.

“Always does,” he answered, and turned back into the house. The screen door slammed shut behind him as its tight spring popped it into place. He left the inner door open.

Shouldering her bag, she walked over the sand driveway to the front porch. Two old dogs were lying near the stairs, chewing on bones.

When she approached, they both looked up, startled.

“Hey, Codger and Shithead,” she said softly.

Shithead whimpered and Codger growled.

Tears blinded her as she realized they knew what she was and were threatened by her presence.

“It's okay. It's okay.”

With a yelp, they both dashed off, leaving their chewed-up bones behind.

“What did you do to my dogs?” her Aunt's fierce voice demanded.

Amaliya turned to see her Aunt/Step-grandmother in the doorway. A wisp of a woman, Mae was not to be trifled with. She had a fierce temper and was one of the worst control freaks Amaliya had ever encountered. Dressed in a faded pink housedress and slippers, Mae shoved the screen door open.

“They just ran off,” Amaliya answered, feeling even more depressed and intimidated.

“Right. I'm sure they did,” Mae snapped. She didn't have but three teeth left and her dentures were definitely not in. No one spoke about it, but it was pretty well known that Amaliya's long dead uncle had busted them out with a baseball bat. Evidently, Mae had burned his dinner. The lack of teeth made her mouth tiny, where it pinched under her long nose and intense gaze. “Your Grandmama already left for West Texas with your cousin Felipe. You're late, girl, and screwing things up as usual. ”

“Nice to see you, too,” Amaliya muttered, but did feel bad about her grandmother already being gone. It was a long trip for her to come out this far and see them. Most likely, they'd be staying over in Dallas.

Mae automatically smacked her arm as her niece passed by her.

“None of your lip.”

The living room was dimly lit by the TV and a lamp on one battered end table. The furniture was rather nice, but the wear and tear of grandkids coming in and out was showing. The big leather sofa had an ugly afghan tossed over the back where her Dad sat on one end.

Her cousin/stepmother sat in the lounger, busily knitting. She was always knitting. Amaliya was sure it was some sort of weird addiction.

She was also sure it couldn't compare to her stepmother's well-known addiction to Jack Daniels. Yarn and liquor. Nice combination. That was probably what was responsible for the ugly afghan.

“Kelly Ann, look who's here,” Mae said. She shuffled over to sit in a big pink recliner she had insisted on being in the living room.

Her cousin-turned-stepmother glanced up with feigned interest. “Oh, hey, girl,” she said. She immediately went back to studying her stitches and listening to the news.

“What's yer excuse this time?” her Dad asked in a low voice. His lean form was sprawled on the sofa, a beer in one hand, and the remote in the other.

Dropping the bag at her feet, she placed her hands on her hips and took a breath. “Dad, some shit went down at the college.”

“You doing drugs?”

“No! No. Nothing like that.”

“Cops involved?”

Tears filled her eyes once more, but she didn't dare shed them. They would be filled with blood. The blood of the people she killed.

“Probably soon.”

Her Dad finally took his gaze from the TV. “What the hell does that mean?”

Fidgeting, she glanced toward the TV, then back at him. “This Professor there, he...he did something bad...”

Her father's face became even sterner. “He did what?”

“What the hell did you do girl?” Mae's voice was shrill.

“I didn't do anything, but have coffee with him!” Her voice was harsh and full of emotion. “He did something horrible to me. He's dangerous. Evil! I had to run.”

“Are you pregnant? Did you fuck your teacher and get pregnant?”

Mae's voice was full of venom. It always was when she talked to Amaliya.

“Why do you always think the worst of me?” Amaliya exclaimed with frustration.

“Are you?” her Dad's firm voice asked.

The TV went abruptly silent.

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “No, Dad. No. But I'm in bad trouble and I gotta leave school and I gotta-”

“It's drugs,” Mae decided.

“Sounds like it,” Kelly Ann agreed, but kept on knitting.

“Is it drugs?” Samuel asked in his cold, unwavering voice.

“No. No. It's not drugs. He did something...” Her voice faltered. How could she explain? What would she say? Hey, Dad, I'm a vampire?

That was not going to work. “I need the truck,” she said instead.

“We had an agreement.” Her father set his beer down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his bony knees.

“This is all a scam to get the truck,” Mae decided.

“Sounds like it,” her stepmother agreed. She studied her work before beginning to knit again.

“Dad, please.”

“What the hell did you do?” Damon asked from behind her. The screen door screeched as he opened it, then slammed hard behind him.

“She's pulling a scam to get the truck,” Mae answered.

“Figures.” Damon moved around Amaliya. “In trouble again?”

“I don't get into trouble all the time like you make it sound.” She felt cornered and angry.

“What happened with this professor? Why do you need my truck?”

Samuel regarded her from beneath his salt and pepper brows. His keen eyes were studying her with a well-known and intimidating intensity.

Swallowing hard, Amaliya tried to focus her thoughts. She felt her hands trembling at her sides. All she wanted was to find comfort with her family, for them to tell her it would all be better, but she had been foolish. Her role in her family was the outcast. The failure. The disappointment.

“I need the truck. I need to get away. Something bad went down and I can't stay in school and I can't stay here. I wish for once you would listen to me and believe me.” As she finished speaking, she looked toward her father.

His expression was thoughtful, but grim. “I do listen to you,” he finally answered. “I listen to you, but you never make any damn sense!”

“You're such a fuck up,” Damon snickered, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Damn, girl.”

“She's always been like her mother and her mother got the bad genes in my family,” Mae declared. “Always talking nonsense and daydreaming-”

“Never had any sense,” Kelly Ann agreed.

It hurt Amaliya to no end to see her father nod. “I tried to raise you right, but you never have your head screwed on right. What did you do this time? Did you sleep with this here professor and get expelled?

Is that it?”

No, he killed me
, she thought angrily. But she could not say those words. “Can I have the truck?”

“Don't let her have the truck. She'll just run off and do something stupid with it,” Damon said. He popped another bottle of beer open on his belt buckle.

“Shut up,” Amaliya growled. “This isn't your business.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah! You have no idea at all what I've been through!”

“You whored around and got thrown out of school. Big fucking whoopee do! I always knew you would end up pregnant and living on welfare. Traveling the world my ass.”

She hit Damon before she realized what she was doing. It was more of a shove than an actual punch. She hit him hard on the shoulder and sent him smacking into the wall five feet behind him. He hit it so hard the entire trailer, and all its added on rooms, shivered. Damon slid over onto his side, his eyes slightly open, and blood trickled out of his mouth.

“What the hell are you on?” Her father's voice roared as he moved quickly to tower over her.

Mae and Kelly Ann scrambled across the room to Damon, hurling insults at Amaliya as they passed her. She was too horrified of her own actions to even respond. She gazed up at her father. She wished one last time he would understand that she needed him and for once be there for her.

The back of his dry warm hand impacted with her cheekbone and all hope drained out of her.

“What have you done? What the hell are you on?”

His voice rang accusations down on her as Mae and Kelly Ann managed to rouse Damon. Her brother came to and began swearing under his breath as he spit blood. Her gaze swept from her brother to her father. She took in his enraged countenance as his words pushed hard and deep into the core of her. They lay waste to her dream of one day finding comfort in his arms.

“I’m not on anything,” she hissed at him. “I didn't do anything wrong!” Well, she had killed a roomful of people, but she had no choice. “Why can't you for once believe me?”

“Because you're a fuck up, Amal. And you'll always be a fuck up.”

This time, she knew what she was doing as she did it. Amaliya pushed her tall, imposing father as hard as she could. She felt his body resist for a second before hurtling across the length of the living room, crashing into the flimsy bedroom door.

“I'm your fucking daughter! You asshole! I came here for help because you're my Dad!” Flinging the keys at her cowering father as hard she could, she felt satisfied when he ducked and they lodged in the wall. “Here is your gawddamn truck keys. Fuck you! Fuck all you!”

“You no-good little whore--”

“Shut up, you toothless old bag!” She whirled on Mae, her eyes flashing red fire. She had no idea her eyes had burned red for a moment, so when her three family members shrank away in terror, confusion swept over her. “You made my life a living hell when my Mama, your sister, died. How could you hate her so much that you have to try to ruin my life?”

Mae's mouth opened, but Kelly Ann screamed at Amaliya, “Leave my Mama alone, you whore.”

“At least I didn't sleep with my dying Aunt's husband.”

The room fell into silence as the truth spewed out of Amaliya.

“You bitch!” Kelly Ann screamed at her.

A deep moan from her father drew her attention to him as he tried to get to his knees. “You ain't got no right to say that.”

“You slept with my eighteen year old cousin and I saw you, Dad. I saw you!”

“Is that why you hate me?”

His voice sounded so broken, it startled her. Her anger faded, but her hurt pulsed through her like lava.

“No,” she said softly. “I don't hate you. I just wanted you to love me.”

“Fat chance of that, you crazy bitch,” Damon slurred as he wiped blood from his face.

The sight of blood made her body tremble. She felt an ache in her teeth and a deep need unfurl inside of her. She took a step toward her brother, as her gaze grew deadly. All she wanted to do was run her tongue over his wound and taste the exquisite elixir seeping from it.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Mae whispered in horror.

What Amaliya did not know was that her eyes had turned completely red as she drew near her huddled kinfolk.

“Amaliya!” her father shouted.

She whirled toward him and hissed.

“What the hell happened to you?” her father exclaimed, his expression of horror widening his eyes.

Overwhelmed, she grabbed her bag up in her arms and stood trembling before them.

“What the hell are you? Possessed by the devil?” Kelly Ann gasped.

With a soft sob, Amaliya shook her head. “I don't know.”

“Get out.” Samuel's voice was low and hard. “Get out of my house!”

Bloody tears running down her face, Amaliya slowly backed toward the door.

“You're not wanted here anymore! Get out!”

As though shoved by an invisible hand, Amaliya suddenly lost her footing and slid right out of the door with a terrified shout. Thrown onto the porch, she lay there gasping.

“Get the shotgun!” Mae screamed.

Scrambling to her feet, Amaliya grabbed her bag and leaped off the porch. She landed a good fifteen feet from the house. She whirled around to see her Dad rushing out the door. In his hand was a rifle.

“Daddy, please,” she cried.

“Get out of here, you whore of the devil!”

“He raped me and killed me! He did this to me!” Her voice was a shriek of anger and fear that tore through the night.

“Get out!”

He fired once over her head and that was enough.

She fled.

Her bag weighed heavily on her shoulder as she walked down the long country road. The night air was cool and fresh, though the heat coming off the asphalt spoke of a hot day. Sighing, Amaliya tilted her hat back on her head. She felt like she needed a checklist of cheesy vampire
clichés
to start checking off. So far she had fangs, superhuman strength and agility, and blood lust to put a nice big red checkmark next to. Standing still, the lights of her old home twinkled behind her. She wondered if she could see the sun. The heat from its unyielding glare during the day had made the road very warm beneath her feet. She bent down and laid a hand against the ground. Again, tears sprang up, but she fought them back.