IM03 - Pandora's Box (8 page)

“Well, I don’t want to stick around here with that ghost thing on the loose. I want to get as far away as I can from it,” I said, slumping back on the bed.

 “Alyssa makes a point, Lysander,” Crystal said matter-of-factly. “That thing did attack her. It knows her blood. She’d be safest traveling with you. Drew and I can stay here, watch over the house, and keep you apprised of what’s going on at home.”

“I’m going with you, Lysander,” Nicholas said in a tone that brooked no arguments—not that anyone was going to argue with him. “I need to know how to kill this thing once and for all.”

“Of course.” Lysander nodded and turned to Fallon. “We will need four plane tickets and a hotel.”

“Four?” she asked.

“Yes. I would not dream of separating you and Alyssa again.” He gave me a knowing grin.

Even under the pressure of our current situation I couldn’t hold back a smile. Lysander had initially tried to keep Fallon and me apart. He never expected me to lay my life on the line for her, though. What can I say? I’m the queen of stubborn, and when I put my mind to something, no matter how against the grain it is, I make it happen.

“Got it.” Fallon’s fingers clicked away at the keyboard. “Do you have somewhere to stay while we’re there?”

“We’re going to your old house, right, Lysander?” I asked.

He scowled and shook his head. “I am not technically the owner of record on that property. I cannot guarantee its vacancy at this moment.”

“What do you mean, you’re not the owner of record?” I asked.

“Alyssa, think about it.” Lysander looked at me as if I had asked him why the sun rises. “We are vampires—immortal. I cannot maintain ownership in my name. It would raise too many questions. As far as public records will show, it is owned by an investment company who pays out to a family trust.”

I felt stupid for half a second. I’d always wondered where Lysander got his money. After that explanation, it made perfect sense. Then I wondered exactly how much property he owned and what other investments he had up his sleeve. One of the benefits of being so ancient, he’s had plenty of time to get good with money. I was still stuck as a career poker player until I got my act straight. Not that being a poker player wasn’t lucrative.

I nodded and Lysander continued. “It is too late to contact the realty management company to check tenant records now. We will just have to be cautious when we arrive and stay somewhere close.”

“Okay then, where do you want to stay?” Fallon asked. “Somewhere off the Charles? On the waterfront? Oooh, Copley Place has some nice fancy options.”

Confusion washed over Lysander’s face. His eyebrows knitted together. “Copley Place?”

Fallon laughed. “How long has it been since you were last there?”

“Eighteen ninety-five,” he said.

“That explains it,” she said sarcastically.

“I’ll admit it has been a very long time, but that shouldn’t matter much. Older cities keep much of their history intact. We should still be able to find our way around.”

I caught Fallon’s eye and smirked. “Famous last words,” I whispered.

Lysander looked down and frowned at me as if disappointed that I didn’t trust him to guide us. “My old home was near the Charles River in Brighton. Find a hotel close to there.”

“Okay.” Fallon resumed clicking away at the keyboard. “Three star or four?”

“It does not matter. We are not going for fun and sight-seeing.” Annoyance marked Lysander’s voice.

I hoped he hadn’t been insulted by my off-handed joke. I hadn’t really meant anything serious by it.

“Fallon’s just trying to help,” I said, returning Lysander’s tone.

“I’m sorry.” Lysander let out an impatient sigh. “This is a very stressful situation. I need to figure out the important things that need to be done. I did not mean to be rude. The hotel is of little importance to me. Please, Miss Fallon, book whatever will be suitable.” He dug his wallet out of his back pocket and tossed it to her. “And during the day I will need you to pick us up some travelling clothes. There is no way for us to return home before we leave for Boston.”

She caught the wallet with one hand. “No harm, no foul. I’ll take care of the details, okay? I’ll have us booked tomorrow night. Four tickets to Boston, a cheapo motel, and something to wear.”

“Thank you.” Lysander dropped his head into his hands and pinched the bridge of his nose. I could feel the frustration within him. Our bond was strong, very strong, and I sensed that deep down, he worried the answers might not lie in Boston as we hoped. If the memoirs didn’t contain an answer, what would the next step be? That question plagued him.

“If the house is occupied, Lysander, what then?” Nicholas asked, still sounding as if he could snap at any moment.

“We must be careful. If there are humans present, we will need to incapacitate them while we search the property.”

“All booked,” Fallon exclaimed and looked up from her computer. “Only one problem.”

“We don’t need any more problems,” Nicholas growled.

“Well, you’ve got one,” she said. “Check-in time at most hotels is after three
pm
. The flight will arrive early in the morning, before sunrise. But you guys won’t have a place to go until late afternoon. You’ll need a place to hang out from the time you arrive until dusk.”

I hissed out a sigh, remembering my last encounter with daylight. Though real vampires won’t burst into flames in direct sunlight, as per popular mythology, you won’t find us out sunbathing anytime soon. We’re extremely photosensitive. And that’s still understating the facts.

Sunlight is blinding and painful, and even with the aid of sunglasses and thick clothing it can still harm us. Any exposed piece of flesh is bombarded by ultraviolet light that our skin has no defense against. Sunglasses help to lessen the white-out effects of natural light, but they don’t remove the haze from our vision or the pain like white-hot pokers assaulting our eyes. In short, I was not looking forward to the possibility of being out in the sunlight again.

“I guess catching a Red Sox game is out of the question, huh?” Fallon teased. She was no sports fan, but I used to be.

I shook my head. “No, but you go right ahead. And while you’re at it, have a beer and stadium dog for me.”

“Where will we be able to escape daylight?” Lysander asked, returning the conversation to more important matters. He put his finger to his lips and stared at the wall as if contemplating the destination.

“Are either of you familiar with Boston?” I asked Crystal and Drew.

They both shook their heads and offered sympathetic smiles.

“Great.” I collapsed backwards on the mattress. “Anyone got any SPF one million?”

Fallon chuckled. “No. But I might have a temporary solution.” She pointed to the screen on her laptop. “It says here they have a subway system. And it connects to the airport. It’s just for a few hours. Why not hang out there until dusk?”

I lifted my head and gave Fallon my best you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me stare. “You want us to hang out in a subway station?”

She cocked her head sideways and matched my sarcastic look. “You have any better ideas?”

I exhaled loudly and flopped backwards again. “No.”

“Then suck it up and hang out,” she said.

“It would seem we have no other choice,” Lysander said solemnly.

The flight that Fallon had said was non-stop did, in fact, stop twice, once in Denver and again in Chicago. However, we weren’t allowed to get off and stretch our legs at either layover. Departing passengers were shuffled off and new arrivals were herded on in record time, making our plane feel more like a flying mass transit system rather than a cross-country airliner. After nearly seven hours of being packed in like sardines with the sweet smell of humans and blood in the air, I felt like a ravenous monster. Thankfully, Lysander offered to share his blood with me, to help hold me over until we arrived.

It didn’t get any better when we arrived in Boston’s Logan Airport. We still had to locate a safe spot to camp out for the day. Little did we know that the Boston subway system was not completely underground, as we had previously thought. Only parts of each line were protected from the elements. Luckily, Lysander had the foresight to make us all, except Fallon of course, wear appropriate coverings to protect us from the sun.

Thanks to recent terrorist attacks, our head-to-toe coverings attracted a lot of attention from TSA agents, but I was certainly glad to be protected in some small way when the subway train in Boston hit daylight.  

After waiting out most of the day in the Government Center T station, we took the Green line train to our less-than-fabulous motel in Allston Brighton.

“Remind me never to let you plan our trip ever again,” I grumbled to Fallon as I collapsed on a sagging queen-sized bed in our motel. I was ready to pass out, and at the same point, I was desperately in need of blood.

 “Hey,” Fallon huffed at me. “I was going to set us up with something nice, but your boyfriend over here snapped at me. You piss off your travel agent, you get a crappy hotel.”

I shot Lysander a dirty look that he ignored.

The hotel room was shabby, but it kind of reminded me of my old apartment with its yellowing walls and extremely well-used furniture. I half expected to see a roach scurry across the matted carpet, or hear the neighbors blasting hip hop music. I’d grown accustomed to the nice home I shared with Lysander and had almost forgotten what it was like to rough it. We could stick it out here for a night or so. It wasn’t like we were planning to stay very long.

“My old home should only be a short walk from here,” Lysander said with a hint of uncertainty. He unfolded a map across a wobbly table near the window. “We will go in, pick up my things, and bring them back. No hanging around. Understood?”

“Then let’s get a move on,” Nicholas said, already waiting by the door. He’d been the worst kind of company during the day, grumpy and short with both Fallon and me, but his “get-the-fuck-away” vibe had kept most people from giving us any trouble while we loitered all day long in the subway.

“I’m staying here,” Fallon said as she stifled a yawn. “You guys go on, and I’ll check in with Crystal and Drew and then catch some sleep.”

I hopped up from the bed and headed for the door too. “Suit yourself. I’m anxious to stretch my legs.”

“Remember,” Lysander said sternly. “We are not hanging around. I want to get in and out quickly.”

“I got it, honey,” I smiled innocently and batted my eyelashes. “But can’t we stop for a bite to eat on the way?”

Lysander was all business. “Not until we are done for the night.”

“Relax a little, we’ll get your writings,” I said, dropping the flirty smile. “You’ve been snippy and acting very nervous since we mentioned coming here.”

“This is not a place filled with good memories. The less time I have to spend here, the better.” He pressed his hand to my back, urging me out of the hotel room.

Nicholas followed us silently, his footfalls barely registering a sound on the pavement as we walked. If it weren’t for his shadow blinking in and out under the streetlights, I wouldn’t have known he was there.

We walked for what felt like miles. Lysander would occasionally consult a map and point us down some tiny side street as narrow as an alleyway. I was certain we were lost, but didn’t want to damage his pride by bringing it up. He was already stressed enough. Something about this city, or maybe it was the place we were going, had Lysander on pins and needles.

I tried to focus on other things around me to help push away the anxiety. This city was completely different from my home back in Vegas. I admired the overabundance of natural greenery. In the desert, most places were xeriscaped, meaning rocks and cactus— things that didn’t need a lot of water. Here, however, there were trees and grass and bushes and flowers. Even as autumn, approached the landscape appeared lush and full of life.  

“Do you know where we are?” Nicholas finally spoke up after we had wandered through a small children’s park. He sounded weary and even grumpier than before.

“This all looks so different,” Lysander said as he consulted his map again. “I believe … yes … there.” He pointed to a sign that said High Rock Way. “We’re close.”

“Finally,” I sighed. We continued on down the narrow street as it curved around.

“Different” certainly was the best way to describe this place. The neighborhoods here were so diverse from the cookie-cutter white stucco and pink Spanish tile houses I was used to seeing back in Vegas. Each home we passed had its own character and charm, and looked nothing like the house next to it. Some were squat, red brick structures; others had colored aluminum or wood siding. Two-story buildings sat next to three- and four-story homes. Some places were duplexes—side by side homes looking like mirror images sliced down the middle with a large retaining wall—while others looked like huge squares stacked on top of each other. Multi-family homes had two and three front doors and large slabs of concrete to accommodate more than one car.

 We wandered down the narrow sidewalk and came to a steep set of stone stairs that appeared to lead into a thick brush of trees. They just seemed to vanish into the woods, though we were in the center of a neighborhood.