The Hunted (19 page)

I reached my hands up and cradled them behind my head, sifting through the details of the night. I cringed inwardly when I thought of Stephen again and quickly dismissed his image from my mind. God only knew what I had seen in that guy. Sure, he was good-looking—there was no disputing that—but he was also possessive and domineering and I was one bird that could not be caged.

I smiled. At least I’d gotten some enjoyment from squishing his face in the sand tonight. But what about that other guy?

What was his name again? Phillip? Walter? W-something.

William! That’s it. William Granville. How could I forget?

He was without a doubt the most infuriating person I’d ever met. Not that I’d ever see him again, especially not since I told him to stay away from me, but who could blame me? The guy had the freakiest scent ever, beyond intoxicating, and his skin was as hard as a rock. He couldn’t have been a vân
â
tor. Their skin was as soft as a human’s, completely penetrable by any weapon, where as William’s was cold and hard like granite. He had to have been a vampire. But I couldn’t be certain, having never met one before.

I knew that vampires could not walk in direct sunlight, but were still capable of moving around during the daylight hours. I also knew that they had toughened skin that was only susceptible to injury from silver or the claws and teeth of other undead. They were lightning fast and had extremely keen senses, senses that made them even more deadly than the Vân
â
tors. If all the stories that Vincent and Peter had told me about them were true, then it was smart for The Protectors to have formed an alliance with the Vampires. But did I know all the facts? Were there some facets of this alliance that had been kept from me, like my past? Did the IMI know enough about what I was going to become to satisfy my own curiosities? Or was I going to have to search out a vampire for myself to get the real truth? Had they simply been teaching me what they wanted me to know, but never truly equipping me with enough information to formulate an opinion of my own? And if that was true, had I met vampire this very night and not even realised it?

How very disappointing if that were so.

Why did I always attack first and ask questions later? Not that he was real keen on answering questions anyway. He seemed more intent on repeating my questions and answers like some sort of irritating parrot—he hadn’t exactly endeared himself to my sensibilities.

I sighed. Perhaps he was just as wary of me as I was of him.

I yawned loudly, stretched my arms out behind me, and then rolled onto my side. I probably could have laid there all night thinking about how I
almost,
maybe, met a vampire, but that was just ridiculous. Regret never changed a thing.

I yawned again, my eyelids closing reluctantly with the weight of heavy burdens and weariness upon them. Sleep was practically knocking at my door. In fact, I could hear the gentle tapping in the back of my mind and I welcomed it.

Then I heard it again—a persistent pounding that was strangely rhythmic, yet quiet enough to make me wonder. But the knuckles of the sandman did not knock like that.

It was silent for a few moments and then the tapping started again.

I opened one of my eyes and glanced at the door.

‘Go away.’

‘It’s me, Lucas. Can we talk?’

‘Are you deaf?’

‘Come on, E. I just want to explain why I told mum and dad. It wasn’t my fault, not really. They came up to your room to check on you and you weren’t there and then they—’

‘Go away,’ I said, groaning loudly.

‘E, come on, please?’

‘Would you like me to say it in French and German for you too? Or is English clear enough?’

‘You don’t speak French or German,’ his voice was muffled through the timber.

I threw my spare pillow at the closed door. He seemed to get the message because he didn’t speak again after that. Either that or I was too tired to care, and fell asleep anyway.

*          *          *

The sun came up again far sooner than I had expected. I’d put up a good fight, ignoring it for the last few hours, but the sun was always going to win. Even hiding underneath the bed sheets didn’t seem to diminish the amount of light trying to creep between my closed eyelids.

I rolled over in the bed and studied the alarm clock. It was almost lunch time. Definitely time to get my lazy ass out of bed. Although the prospect of simply spending a day doing absolutely nothing certainly appealed, particularly when I’d only gotten to sleep sometime after three, it was time to face the music.

I kicked back the sheets and stumbled over the side of the mattress and almost head-butted the night stand. I was definitely all class first thing in the morning. Clumsiness wasn’t usually a part of my vocabulary, but anything less than ten hours sleep meant that I was generally as graceful as a bull in a China shop.

Shaking off a yawn, I grabbed my outfit, hurriedly dressed, and then headed downstairs to get some food into my stomach. I half-expected to run into someone by now, but I guess they were all out of the house today. No doubt they were teaching Lucas the Hevannatara spell he was having a little trouble mastering.

Whatever.

I opened the fridge door and pulled out a loaf of bread and some breakfast condiments, laying them on the counter top behind me while patting my stomach to quieten the grumbling sounds erupting from inside.

As I grabbed a knife from the top drawer and grabbed the bread to make toast, I found a handwritten note that had obviously been meant for me.

I glanced down at Susan’s neat handwriting and debated briefly about pretending that I never saw it. I felt certain that she was going to tell me to clean my room today, not exactly an activity I was chomping at the bit to get stuck into. I had a definite flair for being untidy. I never saw the point of making the bed when I was only going to sleep in it again anyway.

I groaned and picked up the note. If I was going to at least
attempt
to be an adult this month then I probably should start with subjugation and shut up, dealing with the consequences of my actions.

Elena,

We have gone to the IMI. I have listed below the chores that you
will
have done before we get home. These are some of the punishments you will be incurring this month. Do not even think about sneaking out or calling Kayla over for a chat. There is enough listed here to keep you busy until dinner time and I expect them all to be completed.

Underneath Susan’s note was a long list of chores.

My eyes widened as I read each task: clean the garage, vacuum the floors, wash the windows, and so on, and so on. Right at the bottom in capitals letters was written predicably: CLEAN YOUR ROOM!

I sighed and threw the piece of paper back onto the bench. This was going to be a very long month.

I quickly finished making myself some toast with jam and stood there at the counter eating and spilling a few crumbs onto the surface.

Once I was done, I gathered all the breakfast dishes that the rest of the family had left on the sink for me, and, rinsing them beforehand, loaded them into the dishwasher.

One job down, a million more to go.

I ran back upstairs to my bedroom and surveyed the space with a critical eye. It wasn’t
that
bad. It certainly didn’t look like the aftermath of the bomb explosion that Susan constantly made it out to be. It was organised chaos as far as I was concerned. I knew exactly where everything was. How was tidying it going to change that?

But I figured from the capitalisation of the lettering in the note that she was serious, so I swallowed my pride and began folding the piles of clothes that were lying across the floor and furniture. She didn’t even realise that she was suppressing my freedom of expression by making me clean a perfectly habitable space. How else was I going to show my typical teenage angst and deplorable habits if my bedroom was made to be neat and tidy? It totally defeated the purpose if teenage rebellion and sloppiness was constantly quashed at every turn.

It was a good thing that the rest of the afternoon slipped by quite quickly. I hurried through as many of the jobs on Susan’s list as I could possibly manage before their return, and given that I only emerged from sleep just after lunch there were going to be quite a few chores that were marked as incomplete. Not that I specifically cared, but making an effort meant scrubbing scum off the bottom of the bathtub. It wasn’t like I was exactly putting my back into it either.

At precisely six thirty, the Forrester pulled up in the driveway and I heard the closure of three car doors and then the jangle of keys at the front door.

‘Elena?’ I heard Susan call out. She must have been afraid I’d skipped out.

Where’s the faith?

I wandered into the living room with a bottle of detergent in one hand and a cleaning cloth in the other. At least I looked the part. Susan didn’t need to know that I’d gotten the shits just over an hour ago by a stubborn stain on the shower screen and had thrown in the towel. Ever since I’d just sat on my backside and read the latest copy of
Wheels
magazine.

‘Oh, good—there you are. Been working hard?’ she asked.

I held the cleaning equipment up in front of me and shook them gently to answer her question. She frowned slightly and I stifled a shrug.

What? The question was stupid.

Lucas grazed past her arm and headed straight for the kitchen with some bags of Chinese takeout in his hands. I nearly dropped to my knees right then and there and thanked the heavens for a reprieve from Susan’s cooking.

George threw his keys and wallet onto the bureau by the front door and followed eagerly after him. I was only a heartbeat away from running after Lucas like a lost puppy dog myself.

‘Okay, so I see you’re still not speaking to us. I was hoping a day by yourself would have improved your mood,’ Susan said sourly as she shrugged her purse off her shoulder and placed it on the bureau next to George’s personals.

I had no idea what gave her the impression I would have been ecstatic at being stuck at home for a month and forced to clean every room in the house. Did she even realise what Lucas kept under his bed?

‘Well?’ Susan said, her patience obviously wearing thin.

‘Well, what?’ I said.

‘Are we speaking again? Or are you going to continue with your little temper tantrum?’

Temper tantrum?

Lady, you ain’t seen nothing yet.

I looked down at my feet and gently toed the corner of the floor rug. ‘I wasn’t aware that I was throwing a tantrum. Granted, I’m irritated that you’re keeping vital information from me. Actually more than irritated, I’m pissed off, but you both know I’ve never been one to wallow in self pity.’

Wallow, no. Complain, yes.

Susan smiled slightly. ‘True enough. I just gathered from your silence that you were being uncooperative.’

I snorted and raised my head, grimacing slightly. ‘I’m trying to act like an adult. You said to me once that if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.’

Lucas rounded the corner back into the kitchen, sniggering, a plate full of Chinese food in his hands. ‘She has tone. Can’t you hear it, mum?’

I bit back the desire to deck him. That chow mien and plum sauce would sure look lovely on top of his head right now.

‘No,’ I said coolly, shelving my plans to rearrange his face with the plate he was holding, ‘The only person I’m ignoring around here is Lucas.’