American Vampire (12 page)

There was another scrape and thunk, and the intruder spilled into the kitchen. Graf caught him by the back of his T-shirt and the belt around his waist and hurled him back through the hole, partially ripping down the tarp barrier. He jumped out after him while Jessa shouted things like “Stop,” and “It’s just Derek!”

The moment the words penetrated the fog of violence in his brain, Graf wanted nothing more than to crush Derek’s head between his palms until it popped like a water balloon. A water balloon full of skull and brain matter. But that would probably upset Jessa, what with her obsession with the guy.

He stepped back. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, wiping his palms on his jeans. “I could have killed you.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Derek muttered, swaying as he got
to his feet. Another drunk. The whole damned town needed AA. “You can’t do shit to me. This is between me and Jessa.”

Jessa leaned against the edge of the hole, a scowl on her face. “You couldn’t just use the front door?”

“I didn’t want to disturb your guest,” he said with a sarcastic sneer.

Graf shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“What do you want, Derek?” Maybe Jessa was sobering up, because the bitch was back in her voice. Graf figured it was nice to not have it directed at him, for once.

“Where’s my wife?” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of notebook paper.

Jessa hopped down through the hole, and Graf restrained himself from going over to help her. He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea and start thinking he was a gentleman. She snatched the paper from Derek and frowned. “I don’t know where the hell she is.”

While Jessa read the note, Derek turned his anger to Graf. “Chad brought her home from June’s Place all torn up and crying, saying she got kicked out after she got into a fight with Jessa. What the hell did you say to her?”

“I didn’t say anything to her.” Jessa thrust the note
back at Derek. “She was drunk and coming on to Graf.”

“Bullshit,” Derek spat. “Chad said it was something to do with you.”

“Chad wasn’t there!” Jessa shouted. “He was all the way across the damn bar!”

“Okay, okay.” Graf pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “There’s been some misunderstanding. Derek, we haven’t seen Becky since she got thrown out of June’s. She was coming on to me and didn’t like it when I turned her down.”

Derek squinted at Graf like he’d just spoken Greek and he needed time to translate. Then he stepped back, his head cocked to one side. “You turned her down?”

“I can’t believe this.” Jessa spun around as if to go to the front door.

Graf caught her arm. “No, this is your mess, you’re staying.”

“This ain’t nothing to do with her, now.” Derek still had the expression of a man who’d just been hit, but had frozen midfall. Offended, astounded, pissed as hell, and flat-out stupid. “Becky was coming on to you and you turned her down?”

“What was I supposed to do, fuck your wife?” The argument was so ridiculous Graf didn’t have any idea what side he was supposed to be fighting on. “You’re drunk. Go home and look for your wife. Take care of your kids.”

“The kids are gone! She took ’em!” Derek slumped to the ground, suddenly weeping. “She took ’em. I looked everywhere. Her mom said she saw her—she stopped by with the kids in a car and told her to come with her. Saying all sorts of crazy things. Now she’s gone.”

“What kind of crazy things?” Dread gnawed Graf’s stomach.

“It’s in the note,” Jessa said. “She’s leaving town, she’s never coming back, blah, blah, blah… I’d like to see her try.”

“Is anyone looking for her right now? Besides Drunkey McGee here?” If she’d left town, and left in Graf’s car…if he’d had a chance to make it out and that skinny bitch had left instead of him… No. No, no, no, no, no.

“They’ll find her in the morning at some friend’s house,” Jessa said, not sounding the least bit worried. “Go home. Get off my lawn.”

“Jessa, baby.” Derek looked up at her with pleading eyes. “I’m in pain here.”

“So?” She pulled free of Graf’s grip. He hadn’t realized he was still holding on to her.

“You’re just going to leave me? Alone?” Derek looked like a kid who’d been told his trip to Disney World had been canceled.

“You’ll survive.” She walked away, around the front of the house, leaving Graf and Derek in the side yard. Awkwardly.

“I guess you got your answer,” Graf said, offering Derek a hand up.

He didn’t take it and stumbled when he got on his feet. “You turned down Becky?” He snorted. “Your tough luck, pal. Because you ain’t never going to get any from that stuck-up bitch! You hear me, Jess? You’re a stuck-up bitch!”

Graf let his fist fly before he could truly examine his motives. It was better that way. His punch landed on Derek’s jaw with a loud crack, and laid him out in the grass. Graf didn’t bother to check if Derek was still breathing. He gave him a light kick in the side. “Get the hell out of here.”

He didn’t look back. It would have been too tempting to chow down on the guy while he was knocked out. The world wouldn’t miss him—that was for sure.

“Did you hit him?” Jessa asked when he came through the door. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and the tracks of tears stained her face.

Graf nodded.

She smiled a little, but it faded as a fresh wave of tears erupted.

Of all the things in the world Graf felt physically able and willing to confront, female tears were not on that list. He stood in place for a second. Realized that the decent thing to do would be to comfort her. Warred with himself over whether or not he was a decent guy who did decent things. Then,
unable to stand it anymore, went and put his arms around her.

To his surprise, she didn’t resist him. She tucked her drunken head under his chin and pressed her hands against his chest, letting him hold her up. “Why are guys like that?”

Fantastic. He’d gone from houseguest to one of the girls in the time it took for her eyes to form tears. “Guys aren’t like that. Some guys are like that. Not all of them.”

All of them in this town probably were.

“Is he okay?” she sniffed against his chest.

Does it matter? Compared to the rest of the people in town—the bartender excluded—Jessa had seemed pretty smart. Women were stupid when it came to their feelings. “He’ll be okay. Unless he wakes up and decides to come back in here. Then, he won’t be okay.”

She pushed away with a noise of disgust.

His arms felt oddly empty, and he didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he put them in his pockets. “What now?”

“What now?” She laughed, disbelieving. “You basically just said you’re going to kill him if he comes back! Why wouldn’t that upset me?”

Something had gone really wrong, if she was mad at him and not the asshole lying on the lawn. “Why would it? The guy is a jerk.”

“That jerk is the only person in this town that
cares about me!” She shook her head and marched toward and up the stairs. “Never mind. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Yeah, he really cares about you. So much that he married the town skank instead of you!” He dropped onto the couch. Great. She’d gotten his shirt wet. He hoped it was tears and not snot. His stomach growled, and his fangs ached. He was going to have to eat somebody, and soon.

With a groan, he got back on his feet and went into the kitchen, where the paper outlining their lease agreement still lay on the island. That was a dumb move. If Derek had come inside and found it, it would have either exposed Graf or made Jessa seem more crazy than everyone thought she was.

He felt a pang of guilt at that. Jessa wasn’t crazy. She’d been trapped in a town with no allies—Derek did not count—for the past five years. She’d with stood the isolation much better than Graf would have. He was ready to stake himself with a broken two-by-four and he’d only been in town a couple days.

Feeling sorry for Jessa wasn’t going to change her situation, and it would just make him weak. Next thing he knew, he’d be out killing rabbits for food and crying about it. He grabbed the list and headed upstairs. He opened Jessa’s door without knocking and thrust the paper through the gap.

She sat up on her bed, her eyes red and swollen.
“What?” She looked at him expectantly, as though she awaited an apology.

“Number three. I’m getting hungry. You better figure something out by tomorrow night, or I’m going to pick someone, and you won’t have any say over who.”

She nodded, looking for all the world like she wanted to incinerate him with her hate. “Fine.”

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t think he needed to.

T
he sun across Jessa’s face woke her. She opened her eyes reluctantly and squinted past the white eyelet curtains to the illuminated green of the tree outside.

An insistent knock on the door startled her. It had been that, then, and not the sun, that had woken her. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and called, “Be right there.”

She took the steps two at a time, alternately pleased, then dismayed, to see the shape of a man outside the door. If Derek had come crawling back to apologize, she would probably let him in, accept his apology, and go right back to being his doormat.

If it annoyed Graf, it would be worth it.

“Hey,” she said, not making eye contact as she opened the door.

Chad, not Derek, stood on the porch, his lips
compressed over a tight breath. “Did I do something wrong?”

That was Chad, always trying to be nice and not step on anyone’s toes. She laughed and shook her head. “No, sorry. I saw you through the curtain and I thought you were someone else. Come on in.”

He ducked his head as he came through the door, though there was no danger of him not making clearance. “I stopped by June’s and brought you your stuff. I hope that was all right.”

Jessa looked past him, to the little red wagon sit ting on the lawn. Her father’s gun leaned against the uprights of the porch. “That’s real nice of you, Chad. You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, I did.” He made a pained face. “I heard Derek came by and caused trouble for you last night.”

“Did you?” Had Graf gone back into town? She’d thought she’d heard him moving around in the bed room before she’d fallen asleep. Had he left, maybe for good? The thought should have relieved her, but it troubled her to think she might be alone again.

“Yeah,” Chad continued. “Derek came by June’s early this morning, still drunk as a skunk and raving about Becky going missing. He said your boarder hit him.”

“He did. Is Derek okay?” She remembered the damage Graf had managed to do to It. Of course, if the damage had been too serious, Chad would have
probably said, “I heard your boarder killed Derek,” so she stopped worrying. “Did they find Becky?”

“He’s fine. There’s another search party going out this afternoon.” Chad looked toward the stairs, a kind of homesick-puppy look suddenly coming over him. “You think your friend would want to help out?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you? After what Becky did down at June’s, and what he did to Derek?” At least Graf had given her an easier way to explain why he couldn’t come out. “Allergic to sunlight” seemed too obvious, now that she knew what he was.

Chad gave her a sad half smile. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Look, I gotta get back. Is it okay if I check up on you later?”

“Why?” Ever since she was a teenager, she’d maintained careful boundaries when it came to Chad’s worship from afar. Maybe it was cruel of her, but she didn’t want to lead him on or raise his hopes. She didn’t want to take advantage of him. That had become an even bigger danger now that they were trapped in Penance. It would be so tempting to ask him to come back and check on her, to help patch up the wall, to get in her bed with her when she’d just be thinking of his best friend. He would have done all of that willingly, and she didn’t want the opportunity to see if she could resist temptation.

“Yeah, that’s stupid. I know you’ve got your…friend. He can look out for you.” He turned and
headed out onto the porch, then stopped. “I hope we find his car in one piece. You remember what kind of a driver Becky was.”

Jessa smiled. “Yeah, I remember.” She watched him as he descended the few steps to the lawn. Perfect. Now that she and Derek had had a fight, Chad would be over here checking on her more and more often, until Derek got pissed off and put him in his place. With Becky missing, he wouldn’t notice or care what Jessa was doing for a while. And Jessa had her own problems to deal with, and a hungry boarder to feed.

“Chad?” she called, her heart pounding in her throat. There was no way she was doing this. Was there? “You know, on second thought, I wouldn’t mind it if you’d stop by later. I don’t really know this guy living here. I just had the extra room. If you would stop in and maybe just make sure that I’m okay…”

“Why? Did he try something?” Chad asked, the sudden transformation from eager puppy to guard dog setting Jessa back a few steps.

“No!” she said quickly. “Nothing like that. I’m just getting used to having a strange face around here. It would help to see somebody familiar.”

He nodded. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll come by later tonight. Maybe I’ll bring some weed? We can smoke and talk about old times?”

“See you later, then.” The words tasted awful on
her tongue. She watched him walk down the driveway, smiled and waved when he looked back occasionally. It was almost too easy. She felt like a serial killer.

She fed the chickens and went back upstairs. She passed the door to her parents’ room and wondered if Graf was in there. She half hoped that he wasn’t, but the other half of her had gotten a little used to having him around.

Maybe it was that he was so terrible, she thought as she turned on the taps in the tub. He was so terrible, probably the worst thing in town next to It, so she’d been knocked down a notch. She was a liar, a loser, a whore. She was fucking a married man, when the opportunity presented itself, and it often did. She was a terrible person, but she wasn’t a killer.

Not until tonight.

She stripped off her clothes and sank under the water, listening to the dull thumps of her limbs against the porcelain and the slow leak of water slipping down the drain. If Graf ate Chad, and she lured him there, that was the same as killing him, wasn’t it? She might as well have shot him in the face while he stood there on the porch. She opened her eyes under the water and watched the ceiling distort with the movement of the water. What kind of a monster did it make her that she really didn’t care if Chad died? That she could rationalize it away as one less person straining the town’s resources?

That she cared more about Graf surviving than Chad?

No. She couldn’t think like that. Graf being here with her wasn’t a good thing. He was as much of a monster as It was. He had violated her sanctuary, shaken the tightrope she walked every day to maintain her sanity.

She scrubbed her skin raw, delaying the moment she knew was coming. She had to decide. Was she going to be a monster? A killer? Was she going to let the presence of a monster rule her life, outside of her house and inside?

Before she could waver in her decision, she stood and shook the water out of her hair. Wrapping herself in a towel, she tiptoed across the hall. If he wasn’t in the room, it would be that much easier. If he was, well, it wouldn’t be too difficult to rip down the blinds and watch him burn.

She felt a little sick to her stomach at the memory of what he’d looked like from just a short exposure to the sun. How painful it had been. But if that was all it took, it would be over quickly. She pushed the door open, her breath frozen in her chest.

Graf was there, sprawled naked across the bed. He lay on his stomach, face turned away from the door. If she’d had to see his face, maybe she wouldn’t have been able to do it. Clutching the towel closed at her chest, she slowly walked into the room, the way she had done so many times as a child woken by a nightmare, afraid to be sent back to her own bed.

He had covered the windows with quilts from the cedar chest at the foot of the bed. She gripped the fabric, took a breath, imagined the sunlight streaming in, the dust motes dancing in the wholesome light. The burning. The dying. Her fingers flexed, her arm jerked.

Something struck her, knocking the breath from her lungs. It was the floor, on the opposite side of the bed. Graf was on her, his face twisted in fury. She screamed and clawed at his shoulders, but he was strong, so strong. She reached over her head for the tail of the quilt covering the second window, but her fingers came up empty, then caught in his crushing hand that pinned her to the floor. His eyes flashed with hunger, his mouth opened, deadly fangs poised to sink into her neck.

The space of two heartbeats became an eternity. His mouth lowered to her neck. She arched her back, moaning as his teeth pierced her skin. She opened her legs, let him sink into her, writhing against his hips and gasping in desperation. He drank deep, and she threw her head back, screaming.

In an instant, she broke free of the fantasy. She sat up in the bathtub, water sloshing over the sides, her chest heaving from lack of air. Shame crushed her. She drained the tub and dried off, then dashed down the hall to her room to dress and comb her hair. Killing Graf was not an option. Getting near Graf
was not an option. Something was desperately wrong with her.

She didn’t dare look at the door to her parents’ room when she passed it. She went downstairs and got a glass of water. Usually, she would figure there was no harm in fantasizing a little bit about a good-looking guy, but when the guy was a vampire, and when the fantasy involved death and violence, that was where a line had to be drawn. Besides, she had work to do. Things just didn’t stop because someone throws a wrench into the works.

When she went to the front door to unload the wagon, she stopped with a shock. June stood on her porch, her back to the door, looking out over the front lawn.

“Hey,” Jessa said, stepping outside and closing the door quietly behind her. “I didn’t hear you knock.”

“Well, I didn’t yet.” June wore a brown ball cap over her hair, her long braid trailing out of the hole in the back. “I was just enjoying the view.”

“I thought you’d be out with the search party,” Jessa said cautiously. June didn’t just show up places for no reason.

“Nah.” She put her hands in her pockets and looked out at the road. “Becky’s long gone.”

Jessa took a breath. People didn’t talk about leaving Penance. And here June was, showing up out of nowhere to talk about it.

“I think you figured the same thing?” June probed. “I’m not trying to upset you, but—”

“No, no. I didn’t think that you were.” Jessa motioned to the house. “Come on in. You want something to drink?”

“Glass of water would be nice. Let me help you carry some of this stuff inside.” June followed Jessa down the steps to the wagon and picked up a plastic ice cream bucket full of cherry tomatoes.

Jessa collected a box of shotgun shells and six ears of sweet corn tied together with a rubber band. “Thanks. And thanks for holding this stuff for me. I think I was too drunk to get it all home.”

“Your friend wouldn’t have helped you?” June asked casually as they walked through the living room.

Jessa’s cheeks flamed suddenly. June was a good judge of people. Sometimes, she figured out things about them before they did. Had something she had done or said tipped June off to an attraction toward Graf? God, she hoped not. It certainly wasn’t something conscious, and certainly nothing she would act on. “I think he had his hands full getting me home safely.”

“That’s true.” June chuckled, a deep smoker’s chuckle that hadn’t quite lost its rattle after five years without nicotine. “So, Becky took his car, and he punched out Derek.”

Jessa shrugged. “Derek had it coming.”

She filled two glasses with water and nodded toward the living room. June sat in the overstuffed floral armchair and fixed Jessa with an ambiguous stare, before flicking her gaze downward. “You said you shot It just before this Graf got into town?”

“I did.” Jessa sat her glass on the coffee table and pulled her legs up to sit cross-legged on the sofa. “Why, are people talking about that?”

“No. I was just thinking.” June fell quiet for a second. “If you shot It, and Graf got in, and Chad shot It, and Becky got out—”

“Assuming she is out.” Not that it wouldn’t give Jessa some sick pleasure to know that Becky wouldn’t be bothering her anymore. “They might still find her.”

“I don’t think they will. And I think the reason is because Chad hurt It.” She shook her head. “It’s crazy to talk about, but I just… You know when Steve Siler disappeared? It was right after.”

June didn’t have to tell Jessa what she meant by “right after.” He’d disappeared a couple weeks after Jessa’s parents had been killed, the night after some of the guys in town had hunted down the creature and shot it about fifty times. They’d thought then that It would be gone forever.

“I think,” June said slowly, as though afraid to say it, “that whatever is keeping us from leaving is gone when It gets hurt.”

Jessa didn’t say anything. She couldn’t form a coherent thought.

“Once might have been a coincidence. I could even be talked into believing that lightning struck twice. But this time, I think it would be stupid to ignore it.” She waited a moment before continuing. “I thought maybe we could consult your friend about it.”

“W-why would he know anything?” Jessa stuttered. “I mean, he just got here.”

June sighed. “Come on, Jessa. I’m not as thick as some of the people around here. I could tell there was something up about him the minute I saw him.”

Well, I didn’t,
Jessa thought irritably.
I guess I’m just thick.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Look, I don’t know exactly what it is, but there’s something different about him. I won’t tell anybody. You know how they can be.”

Jessa did know. Prickles ran up her back. “You’re worried I’m going to end up like Sarah.”

Something painful flickered in June’s eyes. “I don’t want anyone to end up like that, so I’m going to keep it a secret. But I don’t think it would hurt for you to ask him. See what he thinks.”

“I can do that,” she said, as though she were psyching herself up to face him. God, maybe she was. What was happening inside her head?

June stood and finished off her glass of water. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and said,
“Well, I’ve got work to do. When that search comes back empty-handed, they’ll be wanting to get good and drunk.”

When June was gone, Jessa put away the rest of the supplies. She washed the glasses in the sink and set them in the dish drainer to dry. She dusted and vacuumed the living room. She checked on the peach trees and watered the vegetable garden. All the while, she kept checking on the position of the sun in the sky, wanting it to be sundown, dreading it at the same time.