Desolation (7 page)

She’d been aware of him following her. Some nights she’d look in the side mirror and glimpse something moving behind them. Some nights, when the Charger was quiet, she could hear him above her, his clothes fluttering in the wind.

Why he was following her, she didn’t know. She’d been told that most breeds of vampire were pack animals – they stuck close to the one who’d turned them. But the vampire that had killed Glen had vanished, and his undead family back in Cascade Falls were in disarray – certainly the patriarch was no longer around to guide them. Amber had seen to that personally.

That might be it, of course. Glen could be following her to kill her, to exact revenge for Varga’s death. She doubted it, though. Revenge didn’t seem to be Glen’s style, soulless monster or not. No, what was infinitely more likely was that Glen’s preoccupation with Amber – especially in her current form – had stayed with him even after his death. Maybe it was the one thing he was clinging on to. Maybe he had designs on a coffin built for two.

Amber closed her eyes and held her breath, and submerged so that only her knees and her hands and her horns were above the water line. Down here, in the muted world of the bathtub, she opened her eyes again and looked at herself. She couldn’t blame Glen for his preoccupations, of course. Was she not as magnificent as everyone said? Was her figure not astonishing? Were her features not flawless?

She loved being this way. She loved being tall and red and horned and beautiful. She loved being sexy. She’d never been sexy, not as an ordinary human. Sexiness was for other girls, not for her. Never for her.

She broke the surface of the water, and smiled.

Until now.

After her bath, Amber went for a walk. The people seemed friendly enough, even if she did catch them staring at her from time to time. On three occasions she actually glanced at her bandaged hands to make sure she wasn’t in demon mode, then she put it down to the fact that visitors were probably a rarity around here.

It was a pretty town, surrounded as it was by trees and snow-covered mountains and looking up into a huge blazingly blue sky. It had a smell to it, too – fresh and open and healthy. Invigorating, even. Amber fully acknowledged all of this. Further, she had no trouble admitting that it was downright lovely to see every store open for business – that being quite a change after spending the last few weeks driving through small towns teetering on the edge of survival.

Watching the people file into church, she figured that there was absolutely nothing about Desolation Hill that she found disagreeable, and yet something had got its hooks into her and was pulling her down.

Deciding that breakfast might improve her mood, she stepped into Fast Danny’s, the only one of the three cafe/diner joints on Main Street open on a Sunday morning. There were a few patrons sitting at tables, all of whom examined Amber when she walked in. She ignored them, chose a table in the corner, and sat, started reading through the menu.

The waitress came over, a woman in her forties who looked like she’d had a busy morning. Her nametag identified her as Brenda.

“Just passing through?” Brenda asked, which struck Amber as an odd thing to greet someone with. At the Firebird, Amber had always greeted customers with a smile. There was no smile on show here.

“Kinda,” said Amber.

“Oh yeah?” Brenda said, but not in a conversational way.

Amber had a soft spot for people waiting tables. She knew what a crappy job it could be. That being said, Brenda’s attitude was not going to be earning her any tips.

“I’m staying for a few days,” Amber said. “At the motel.”

“The Dowall Motel?”

“Is there another one?”

Brenda didn’t bother to answer that. “Were you told about the festival?”

“Yeah. But we weren’t told what kind of festival it is.”

“It’s a local one,” said Brenda. “Townsfolk only.”

Amber decided that she didn’t like Brenda’s dismissive tone. She didn’t like being dismissed. Her skin itched. All she had to do was relax and she’d shift, and then she’d be taken seriously. Then she’d be respected.

“That was mentioned,” she said quietly.

Brenda nodded, apparently satisfied. “Okay then, what can I get you?”

And, all of a sudden, Brenda was in full waitress mode and Amber was left with all that hostility and nowhere to put it. “Uh …”

Brenda looked at her, eyebrows raised, waiting.

Amber felt the hostility drain from her. “The Danny’s Breakfast, please.”

“Will do,” said Brenda. “Eggs sunny side up or scrambled?”

“Scrambled.”

“Coffee or juice?”

Had she really been about to jump up and rip the waitress’s face off, just because of her tone of voice? She felt amazingly stupid right now.

“Juice,” she said. “Thank you. Oh, and …” Amber held up her hands. “I had an accident.”

“So I see.”

She gave Brenda a weak smile. “Would it be possible to have my breakfast, like, cut into smaller pieces?”

“You want it all chopped up?”

“Yes, please. Well, besides the egg. Because that’ll be scrambled.”

“Okay,” Brenda said dubiously. “Might cost you a little more, though.”

Amber frowned. “To cut it up?”

“It’s an unusual requirement.”

“But it’ll only take ten seconds.”

The waitress shrugged. “We’ll see if the cook is comfortable doing it. Will that be all?”

Amber hesitated. “Yes.”

Brenda nodded, and moved away as an old man came in.

“Hey there, Brenda,” he said.

Brenda smiled for the first time. “Good morning, Mr Tomlinson. How are you?”

“I’m doing good, thanks,” said Tomlinson. “And you?”

“Doing fine,” said Brenda. “Nice weather we’re having.”

“It is. It is nice weather.”

“Is it the usual, Mr Tomlinson?”

“Sorry?”

“The usual?”

“Oh yes, the usual. Ham on rye with mustard.”

“With the crusts cut off.”

“Just go ahead and cut them crusts off, you betcha.”

“You got it.”

The moment Brenda turned away from him to deliver the order, her smile was gone, and Amber watched as Tomlinson’s own smile slowly faded. He stood there, staring into space. Amber’s mom had once said something about friends and fake smiles, but that was Amber’s mom, so Amber banished the memory from her mind.

A woman came in behind Tomlinson and the smile suddenly reappeared as he turned.

“Morning, Jackie,” he said.

“Morning, Brett,” Jackie said. “Good weather for fishing.”

“It is.”

“Getting your usual?”

“Yes, I am. Ham on rye with mustard, with the crusts cut off. Hey, how’s little Everett doing?”

“He’s doing fine,” said Jackie. “He had a bad cough that went on for a few days. I thought it might be a chest infection, but it cleared up on its own.”

“I heard that,” Tomlinson said, nodding. “I heard he had a cough.”

Brenda arrived back, handed Tomlinson a brown paper bag. “Here you go, Mr Tomlinson. Your usual.”

“Much obliged, Brenda,” Tomlinson said, handing over the exact change. He tipped his hat to them both. “You have a good day now, ladies.”

They smiled at him and he walked out, and then they turned those smiles on each other.

“How you doing today, Jackie?” Brenda asked. “How’s that boy of yours?”

“He’s good,” Jackie said. “He had a cough, but it cleared up. You all set for Book Club tonight?”

“I am,” Brenda said. “What did you think of it?”

“A little racier than what I’m used to,” Jackie said. “Did you like it?”

“I thought it was fine. Racy, like you said.”

“Maybe too racy?”

“Probably too racy. What can I get for you?”

“Just a coffee, thanks. In one of those cardboard cups.”

“To go?”

“To go, yes. With cream and sugar.”

Brenda smiled as she busied herself at the coffee machine. “No fancy lattes or espressos for you.”

“No, thank you!” Jackie said, and both women laughed.

Amber didn’t know what the hell they had to laugh about, but she kept her mouth shut.

For the next few minutes, she sat there and watched the patrons and staff of Fast Danny’s interact with one another. They were unfailingly polite and bizarrely cheerful, and they walked around with bright smiles at the ready – smiles that vanished the moment they thought no one was watching them. But Amber was.

When her breakfast was ready, Brenda returned to her table, set the plate down. Along with her scrambled eggs, she had bacon, sausages and hash browns – all fully intact.

“Um,” said Amber, but Brenda was already walking away.

Amber looked back at her food, then tried to pick up her knife and fork. When she failed laughably at this, she did her best to catch Brenda’s eye, but Brenda was doing an admirable job of ignoring her. Exasperated, Amber looked around, accidentally making eye contact with an old man sitting alone. He wasn’t as old as Brett Tomlinson, but he was catching up fast. He gave her a little smile, glanced at her hands, and folded his newspaper. He stood and walked over.

“You need any help with that?” he asked.

Amber’s first instinct was to thank him for his offer and decline – but that wouldn’t get her food cut up.

“Thank you,” she said. “Yes, please.”

He nodded, hitched his pants and sat, then took her knife and fork and cut up the food.

“Thanks very much,” said Amber.

“No problem,” he said. “I’m Benjamin.”

“Amber.”

“What happened to your hands, Amber, if it’s not too personal a question?”

“I, uh, I caught them in a car door.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Say you did?”

She nodded. “Yep. Broke almost all my fingers.”

“Caught both hands in a car door?” Benjamin asked. “What on earth were you doing?”

“Well, uh, I’m not actually sure. It was something stupid.”

“I’d wager,” said Benjamin, but in a nice way, and Amber laughed. “Was it that black car you came in? Oh, don’t look so surprised. We’re a small town in the middle of nowhere in Alaska – newcomers set tongues a-wagging, and distinctive cars more so.”

“I see,” she said. “But no, it was another car. I’m just clumsy, I guess, and pretty useless until my fingers mend, so my uncle decided to take me on a road trip while I wait.”

“Always wanted to go on a road trip,” Benjamin said, a little wistfully, “but never had anywhere to go to. Where you headed?”

She shrugged. “It’s not the destination that matters – it’s the journey.”

Benjamin chuckled. “That what your uncle says?”

“My uncle doesn’t say an awful lot. What’s it like here, by the way? I’m assuming it’s a nicer town than the name suggests.”

“You’d think,” said Benjamin. He finished cutting the food and placed the knife and fork on the edge of the plate for Amber. “The people are pleasant, you can leave your door unlocked, and three hundred sixty-four days out of the year it’s as peaceful as peaceful can be. But the days are long and getting longer, and, if you want my advice, I wouldn’t stay here.”

Amber sipped her juice. “No?”

He glanced around, making sure no one could overhear. “This is not a nice place to visit, Amber. I have no doubt you’re going to be made to feel very unwelcome in the next day or so. You might even warrant a visit from the Police Chief himself.”

“Seriously? We haven’t done anything.”

“That doesn’t matter. Chief Novak is notorious for running transients out of town on the slightest of whims.”

“We’re not transients. We’re staying at the motel.”

“Novak’ll still see you as a transient – as will the rest of the fine folk of Desolation Hill.”

She leaned closer. “Benjamin, what’s this festival they’re all talking about?”

He smiled sadly, and shook his head. “I’m sorry. There are some things I’m not comfortable discussing in public. You have a good day now.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

He stood. “You didn’t, young lady. Not at all. You have a good day now, you hear?”

He walked back to his table, picked up his newspaper, and left. Amber sat there until the rumblings in her belly became too loud to ignore, and she awkwardly picked up her fork and started spearing her food. She was halfway through her breakfast when her phone lit up by her elbow, and a message from Milo came through.

They’re here.

T
HE ROAD THAT EVENTUALLY
became Main Street was the road they had taken into town, but it veered and meandered on its way there, and it was quicker to just cut through the trees. The instant she moved out of sight, Amber let the change happen, and she shifted and gritted her teeth against the pain in her hands. A few seconds was all it took for the throbbing to fade, though, and then she was feeling a whole lot better about a whole bunch of things – the town, the cold … even the Hounds’ arrival.

How tough could they really be, anyway?

She hurried, though. She didn’t like the idea of Milo facing them alone. Together they’d have a chance. Together they might even win. The idea made Amber smile. The Shining Demon could send whoever he wanted after her. She liked the thought of sending them right back again.