Damon (31 page)

If there was any justice in the universe, that very thing would happen.

My chuckles of vengeance died when I pulled up in front of the house. Damon’s car wasn’t there, and he wasn’t inside waiting on me. I just knew.

Walking into that empty room drained me of every ounce of strength. I shut the door, sat down on the bed, and simply sat clutching my purse.

I could still feel him on my skin and in my blood, my lips still buzzed from his final kisses, which had come far too soon. Tears came to my eyes and spilled over when I realized I couldn’t remember our last kiss. I couldn’t remember exactly which one had been the very last one. I needed that memory to hold onto.

All I could remember was the night in the alley behind the convenience store, when we’d thought our lives were perfect. And the look in his eyes when he’d stopped at the door for one last look and realized he might never return.

Growling, I threw my purse, then rolled onto the bed and covered myself with the paint encrusted quilt. But I couldn’t stay down and soon I was over at Grammy’s desk, sifting through junk to find anything sharp. I came up with her heavy letter opener.

The tip had a nice sharp tip, just sharp enough to cut skin. Sitting on the bed again, I lightly traced the scar on my wrist, remembering how it had felt to watch all my problems drip off my wrist, drop by drop.

Then I heard a voice in my head – not a loud voice – a memory.

Dr. Sanderson had talked during our therapy sessions about a test I would have to face. He’d told me that another time would come in my life when I would feel just as empty and hurt and alone as I had when Teddy broke my heart. He said I might think about ending my life again.

I threw the letter opener and sat there feeling dull. I didn’t even want to do it. It was like a bad habit to entertain the idea whenever I felt low. I wanted to live, and I wanted to keep my sanity for as long as possible. Slitting my wrists, again, would be a really crazy-looking thing to do.

So I rolled myself up in Gram’s quilt and cried myself to sleep for the tenth night in a row.

***

That night a noise awoke me in the heavy silence of a late hour. I’d been on the edge of sleep and threw the quilt back and strained to listen, wishing my pounding heartbeat would quiet down so I could hear.

I couldn’t remember if the noise had been a knock on the door, or window, or if it had been a crashing sound. It had seemed loud.

I’d left my light on and I watched, frozen, as the doorknob on the outside door turned slowly. I’d also left the door unlocked. My first thought was Damon, and I slid to the edge of the bed. Then I remembered Teddy. He must have been knocking and misinterpreted my silence as an invitation to come inside. After all, my light was on, and who else would I be waiting on?

Since there was no time to stop him, I rushed to unlock the door to the hallway, in case he was drunk and I needed an escape route.

When I turned around my heart leapt into my throat. A man stood in the doorway. It was James Eddie and he was pointing a gun at me.

“Where is he?” the sheriff demanded.

I wasn’t used to having my sleep interrupted by men wielding guns and could only gape at him until he lifted the barrel away from my chest.

“Who?” I chirped.

“Don’t try to hide him. I saw him come in here.”

Damon? He’d seen Damon come inside the house?

A thrill rushed through me and I looked around, in case I’d somehow missed his beautiful face staring back from some dark corner.

James Eddie moved past me, a deputy following him. He looked in my closet then headed to the hallway door. “Get back,” he told me.

A horrible, loud crashing sound came from the front of the house and the men rushed from my room into the hall. I followed close behind them trying to see. If Damon had returned, they’d have to put a bullet through me before they got to him.

But, at the end of the hallway, we only found more cops who had busted through the front door. Damon wasn’t in the room.

Cynthia came rushing out of her bedroom, eyes wide as moons, and grabbed my arm. “What are you doing to my house?” she yelled at the cops.

They ignored us and searched every inch of the house, pushing us aside when we were in the way. I wasn’t sure if what they were doing was exactly legal, but was powerless to stop them.

“It’s
him
,” Cynthia spat at me. “Again!”

She left me and went to wail over her busted doorjamb.

We were questioned at length but in the end, the cops had to leave. They actually believed Damon had murdered an innocent girl! Nothing I said made a difference. Everything Cynthia said reached their ears.

“It’s
him
!” she told them. “I knew it. He thinks he’s a vampire! He attacked Maggie and tried to destroy my house. He’s ten times crazier than Sonya! Fifty times!”

Well, that frightened them because they all knew Mama, and knew the violence of her rampages, so of course they listened, and believed, and left to go hunt down my innocent husband. If they caught him, I knew they would shoot him. I was so afraid they would kill him before learning the truth.

I went back to my room and locked myself in, where I could think. I had to find him. I had to get to him first and warn him, so we could run off and hide in the mountains. While I tried to think of where to start looking, I packed a bag, and then sat on the bed in defeat.

I didn’t know where to begin.

If I left to search for him, he might come back here looking for me and be caught. Or I might be followed and lead the cops straight to him.

I fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Closing my eyes, I concentrated as hard as I could, and shouted in my mind
DAMON! WHERE ARE YOU
?

COME TO THE SALTBOX
, his voice replied.

I sat up, wondering if I’d really heard him, or imagined it.

Either way, I had to go see.              

***

Corky’s house was quiet and dark when I used my key and slipped in the back door. I’d been especially careful, leaving through my back window instead of using the door, staying to the dark shadows, keeping a sharp eye out. The cops had left the area to continue their search, I was certain, but I couldn’t take any unnecessary risks.

I passed through the dark kitchen into the living room, trying to see in the virtual blackness.

“Damon?” I called softly.

A figure stepped out from a dark corner and I almost ran. He seemed too large, his attitude seemed threatening. I reached to turn on the lights, but he caught my hand and I could feel him. And his voice came to my ears like the sweetest music.

“I’m here, baby.”

I didn’t waste time with words. I wrapped my arms around his neck and found his eager lips in the darkness.

Sweet delirium pulled me into his trance as he lifted me into his arms and carried me up the stairs.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Damon and I weren’t very good at using our heads when we were together. While the cops scoured the neighborhood, we made love in Corky’s bed, and blissfully drank our fill just like old times.

If Damon was deceitful enough to inject me with some hallucinogenic drug while I thought he was pricking, I didn’t care.

I stared up into his shimmering silver eyes and sharp fangs and knew what I felt was real, even if my eyes were fooled. He was the only one in the world, and I would swallow every delusion he could create in his rampant imagination if it meant I could hold him in my arms.

For a while, we lay holding each other, wishing the night would never end, but as the grandfather clock downstairs chimed out five clear tones, we had to sit up and think of a plan.

We sat cross-legged, facing, and rested our foreheads together.

“Did you find the cave? Where have you been?”

“I think I did something terrible,” he said. “A girl died.”

“You didn’t,” I assured him. “I know you didn’t.”

I would never accept the notion that Damon was responsible for the death of anyone. Another sick man was responsible, living free while they chased my poor husband. The rumors of holes in her neck and blood loss were born from rumors of a vampire lurking around our peaceful little town. Just like Elliot’s stories, imagination running wild. It was Troy, I realized. He’d gone to Chester’s to paint the wall and had seen the writing about vampires. He’d told others, and the story had grown.

“I think I let it loose. I
saw
it and it didn’t attack me. I couldn’t move, but it let me go. It followed me here.”

I leaned back, trying to find his eyes in the dim light. “What are you talking about?”

“The vampire. The original. The red beast with fangs and silver eyes. I found the cave and it was there, deep inside, just like Granddad described in his book. Just like Chester said. It knew me. It spoke in my mind, words I couldn’t completely understand. I think I woke it up and it followed me here. God, Maggie, I let it loose on the world and now someone is dead. Now the cops want to kill us both.”

His hands were shaking on my arms and the fear in his voice alarmed me. We didn’t have time for hysteria. But when hysteria came there was no stopping it.

“I believe you, but we have to hurry, Damon,” I told him. “We have to get out before daylight. They want you for murder.”

He turned his head away and spoke with a soft voice. “It was him. He followed me to the truck stop. I didn’t know till it was too late. I saw him run away from the car and when I looked… god….”

Damon had been there? Had he been at the crime scene while a beast did terrible things? Mama had had her beasts, too, but we’d never been able to see them.

Had his craving for blood become too intense to control?

“God, Damon….” I couldn’t think of what to say. He couldn’t have…. He must have heard about the horrible crime and worked it into his delusions.

“No,” he suddenly, leaning back. “No, wait. I remember something.” He let out a bark. “Okay. I remember. I got lost. I went back to the house. He was there. The beast was there at the house. Not the cave.”

“What house?”

“C’mon,” he said. “We’re in a hurry. It’s time to run to the mountains. We need a car.” He quickly began to dress. “They’re watching for both of ours.”

I slid to the floor and hurriedly searched for my clothes. “Corky’s old Pontiac is in the garage. But the battery’s probably dead. Nobody’s driven it in three years. Longer even because Corky was sick for a long time before he passed.”

“Do you still have our money?”

“Yeah, but it’s in my room. We can’t go back.”

“My car’s hidden. I’ll go get the battery,” he said. “You run home and get the case. There’s time. Just be careful.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, dizzied as always by his scent and skin and energy. I feared he didn’t intend to take me with him when he ran again. I could already feel him slipping away. “Don’t leave without me. Okay? Don’t forget about me.”

“I’d never forget about you.”

I grabbed his arm. “You did before. You said a week, tops. I was terrified.”

He held my face between his hands. “Maggie, listen to me. I’ll never leave you behind again. That’s a promise. A
promise
. I’ll never leave you again.”

“Okay,” I quickly agreed. Wherever he was going, I was going with him. I couldn’t have stood being alone again. I was sick, and co-dependent, and completely unable to tolerate loneliness. I would grow unbearably depressed and do something drastic to stop the pain. “I’ll go. Wherever you go, I’ll go. Okay? Promise.”

He put his arms around me. “I won’t leave you behind,” he promised. “Ever. Never again.”

He pulled me into his arms for a kiss so warm and deep I knew I would never forget it. But this would not be our last kiss. This would be the first kiss of our new life together.

***

I ran back to the house and climbed through the window, not wasting time on anything but grabbing the briefcase and strapping my purse across my shoulders. Then, on second thought, I went back for my suitcase, since it was already packed.

The bags were too bulky, so I had to throw them out the window and they landed on a bush, making a crashing noise that sounded like a collapsing building in the quiet morning.

I stood still, wincing, and then jumped when Cynthia knocked on the door.

I almost went ahead, and probably should have, but I thought she might grow suspicious and see me leaving. So I closed the window and answered the door.

She stood there with one hand on the doorjamb and looked me up and down. “What are you doing? You’re flushed.” Her frown deepened. “And your shirt is on backwards.”

“It is?” I answered in surprise. I quickly maneuvered my t-shirt around into place. “Well, I got undressed then changed my mind. I’m thinking about going over to Bella and Chester’s. I’m scared.”

She was obviously worried, I could read it in her eyes, but she crossed her arms and tried to appear reserved. “I can’t possibly sleep after all the hoopla. Why don’t you stay here and we can keep each other company. I’ll make breakfast.”

So she was scared, was she? I didn’t have time to make her beg like I wanted to.

I had to leave. Every second was precious, and I was afraid that Damon would leave without me, or come looking for me if he returned with the battery and I wasn’t there. A terrible sense of dread settled over me and I couldn’t get a vision of James Eddie shooting a bullet straight into Damon’s head out of my mind.

“Okay,” I told her, as casually as I could. “I’ll stay, I guess. I’m tired, anyway.”

“You sure?” she insisted.

“Yeah, if you’re scared.” I had to throw that in. “He won’t come here if he knows their looking for him.”

Her eyes narrowed and she nodded with interest. “You don’t think so?”

“No. Besides, he said he never wanted to see me again. He’s not coming back.”

She let out a sigh that almost bent her over double, and then grabbed my arm as if we were pals, or sisters. “Okay, then c’mon and I’ll make some pancakes while you start a big pot of coffee. We can sit in the kitchen together till we have to go to work.”