Zara's Curse (Empire of Fangs) (12 page)

20.

Zara took her phone out of her pocket.
 
The others had left her at the thumb-screw exhibit when she began feigning painful cramps.
 
This had annoyed Drake to no end.
 
“I had my change in the middle of a battlefield, surrounded by Turks,” he said, and with the mention of war, he and Micah began exchanging grisly war stories. They had to explain the wounds they suffered as they had no scars to show for them.
 
To them, war had been a game.
 
Zara watched them talk with fascination.
 
All those years of life…centuries even, and they still talked and acted just like the guys from her campus.
 
Maybe it was their perpetual youth that kept them like that—preserving their hormones and testosterone like some vital component of their being.

She sat on a stiff wooden bench now.
 
She supposed Micah wasn’t worried that she would run.
 
Where could she go?
 
No matter where she ran she would soon change, and then her blood bond with Micah would be unbreakable and she would be powerless to suppress her need to be with him.
 

She looked at her phone.
 
There was a voice message from Twig.
 
She punched in the voicemail code and listened, her heart racing.

She heard some sounds, and some conversation.
 
Twig’s phone must have speed-dialed her in his pocket. Or he had wanted her to hear what he was hearing.
 
She turned the volume of the phone up all the way up.
 
She heard a muffled discussion, followed by some loud crashing noises, and then the piercing sound of a woman screaming.
 
She listened while the message grew silent.
 
Suddenly she heard the unmistakable sound of police shouting orders.
 
“Lay down! Hands on your head!”
 
Zara sighed and started to feel tears forming in her eyes.
 
A moment later she heard the deep man’s voice again.
 
“Don’t worry Nick.
 
I have many friends at Whispering Pines.
 
Seems we are both to have a family reunion.”
 

Zara felt dizzy and sick.
 
That must have been Damon’s voice.
 
Alive and well.
 
She had heard of Whispering Pines before.
 
It was a psychiatric facility about twenty minutes north of Denver where the suicidal and violent usually wound up.
 
She had heard stories before of shock therapy and other horrors that she had always dismissed as High School rumors.
 
But now, with someone she cared for within its works, she felt a sudden dread they might all be true.

With Micah and his pals upstairs admiring a set of French guillotines, Zara had her chance.
 
She ran back to the set of stairs that led down to the first floor and flew down them, bounding six steps at a time with ease.
 
She was much stronger since the last flush of painful sensations had shot through her body.
 
She guessed this…
metamorphosis
, took place in stages.
 
When she got to the front door, she found it fairly easy to kick it off its hinges.
 
She raced across the dark parking lot, her mind twisting around like a dust devil.
 

She opened the driver’s door to the Porsche, minding her newfound strength, and hopped in.
 
When she started the car a thumping dubstep beat began to play on the stereo and vibrate the car.
 
She looked back up at the museum one last time before she peeled out of the parking lot.
 
The moon was full and high in the night sky.
 
In a few moments she was on the highway heading north.

21.

Vivian Caspari stood impatiently at the counter.
 
The girl at the computer was new, pretty, and a very slow typist.
 
She was using one finger to tap on the keyboard, and finding each letter took her all the concentration usually reserved for finding Waldo.

Vivian checked her watch.
 
Almost midnight.
 
She was worried.
 
Lately Damon had started to ask questions about her ballroom dancing class, what steps she taught, and so on.
 
He had become increasingly suspicious since his awakening, and each day his power to see into her mind grew stronger.
 
But if he had known she had come to see…
him
, he might finally do away with her.
 

The girl finally looked up from her computer screen.
 
“I’m so sorry for the wait Miss Caspari, I have found your clearance.”
 
She peeled a red sticker off a roll of tape that said W-5 GUEST, and handed it to Vivian.

“Don’t worry that pretty little face over it, darling girl.
 
But do go into the bathroom after I leave, and smash it against the mirror.
 
Do it several times.”

“I will do that.
 
Thank you,” the girl said, sitting there with a vacant look on her face.
 
The buzzer over the door leading into the ward buzzed loudly and the door opened.
 
Vivian strode through the doorway—the sound of her stiletto heels against the linoleum floor filled the hallway and the lobby. The young girl turned and went to the bathroom.

Doctor Jenson was still engrossed in his crossword when Vivian strode into his office. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he noticed her standing over his desk, looking down at him menacingly.
 
“Jonathan,” she said sharply.
 
He looked at her and his calm, professional demeanor evaporated, replaced by something like boyish terror.
 
He stammered a hello while Vivian leaned on his desk.
 
“Evisceration,” she said coldly.

“I’m sorry?” The doctor said, confused and trembling in his suit.
 

“A twelve-letter word for ‘cruel gutting’.”
 
She drew a cigarette from a pack, lit it, and looked out of the office window overlooking the recreation room, and sighed.
 

“That one.
 
The boy. Bring him here and then go mop the sweat off yourself.
 
You know how sweat repulses our kind.”
 

The doctor jerked himself up, bowed his head and moved towards the door.
 
“Of course, thank you, please tell your husband how much we all admire—”

“Save your admiration for someone who has use for it, worm.
 
Now.
 
Fetch,” she fluttered her hand and the doctor bowed again and scurried off.
 
She had taken a peek into his head before he left the room, and had seen a mind most foul and disturbed.
 
She laughed.
 
The old joke of the insane running the insane asylum had popped in her head.
 

The doctor returned and brought in Twig before leaving them to go find a shower.
 
“Mister Vanderbilt, was it?” Vivian said, sneering at Twig.
 
“And this must be your father’s estate.”
 
She swept one of her pale arms around the room.
 
She walked over to him.
 
He looked coldly at her and kept silent.

“Sit,” she said, gesturing to a chair.
 
He sat down, and she sat on the desk, very close to him, making sure to cross her legs slowly.
 
She hardly needed to use her power of mind on men.
 
Most of the time, a good pair of panty hose and a short dress did the trick.

She ran a finger over his mustache.
 
“I used to know a man who wore something similar on his face.
 
He wore it well even with his head on the pike.
 
Dashing lad.”

Twig felt her power dig into him.
 
He bit his tongue, hoping the pain would distract him.
 
He kept his eyes fixed on hers.
 
“What is it you want?” He asked.

“Want.
 
What do I want,” she looked around the room as if she had forgotten why she had come.
 
“Oh yes.
 
Now I remember,” she pushed a stiletto heel into Twigs chest, which was still sore from his fight with Damon.
 
He grunted.
 

“Oh you are a tough one aren’t you?
 
So much willpower.
 
I want what your father has hidden.
 
The elixir he hid those years ago before he went mad in this little chicken coop.
 
I think you know the one I’m talking about.”

“I think I do.”
 
Twig squirmed under her heel, which felt like it was going to break him in two.

“I have a sudden interest in it.
 
A sudden lust for preservation, if you will.” She removed her heel from Twig’s chest and he gasped and wheezed.
 

“You want to use it on your father? Or should I say husband?”
 
Twig said between labored breaths.
 

“My father died a long time ago.
 
A stubborn man full of pride.”
 
She gave a pitying shake of her head.
 
“Damon is my husband, we simply play the role of father and daughter for appearances.”
 
She took a long drag off her cigarette.
 

“But yes, I wish to use it on Damon.
 
With my son taking a new bride it’s only a matter of time before Damon grows jealous and wants a new wife of his own.
 
Under all that bluster and bravado he is as petty as a child.
 
And that Winters bitch has been coming around too. I have to strike first.”

“Good luck with that,” Twig said, shaking his head.
 
“Just don’t try it near any bookshelves.
 
They hurt like hell to bounce off of.”

“Do you take me for a fool?”
 
Vivian asked.
 
“You see, my husband loves his wine. Old habits die hard I suppose.
 
Once I get the elixir, I figure a few drops in one of his bottles should do the trick.”

“And your son?
 
Wouldn’t the whole killing-of-his-father thing upset him a little bit?”

Vivian laughed boisterously and stood up. She straightened her dress.
 
“No…my son is loyal to me.
 
With Damon gone, we could control our own destinies.”

“And if I tell you, will you release me?”
 

Vivian smiled. “Of course.
 
You have my word.”

“Alright then.
 
Guess there is no point in hiding it.”
 
Twig inhaled deeply.
 
“He hid it in the Shire.
 
He gave it to a group of wily hobbits to destroy.
 
No wait, it was in the Honey Comb Hideout.
 
Yep, that was it.
 
Sorry, I always get those two confused.”
 
Twig braced himself.
 
He knew he was a lamb in a lion’s cage.
 
He only hoped it would be quick.

Vivian pursed her lips at him.
 
“Stupid boy,” she said.
 
She twisted the end of her cigarette into the desk before moving towards him.

22.

Old fashioned street lamps stood tall on either side of the road leading to Whispering Pines, along with perfectly spaced rows of apple trees.
 
Zara drove into a large roundabout and parked the car near the entrance of the building.
 
An old wooden sign that read
Whispering Pines Wellness Clinic
stood by the front doors.

She left the car running and charged into the building.
 
Inside, the bright lights stung her eyes.
 
A girl sat behind the front desk.
 
She was crying and cleaning blood from her face.
 

Zara looked at her sadly.
 
“Oh my god! Are you okay? What happened to you?” she blurted out all at once.
 

“I don’t know…” the girl said confused.
 

Zara looked at the fresh wounds, the wet spots of blood, and felt feverish.
 
She wanted to taste it.
 
Just the sight of it made her ravenous and dizzy.
 
She fought hard against it.

“Open the doors.
 
I’m here for my friend.”

The girl looked at her and blinked several times.

“Do it now.” Zara said impatiently.
  
She was exercising an amazing level of restraint by not pouncing on the poor girl.

“Of course, yes…” the girl said.
 
Zara was slightly surprised.
 
She wasn’t used to getting her way so easily.
 

When the door buzzed and opened she went in and was stopped by a giant orderly with a blank expression on his face.
 

“Where’s your badge?” he asked.

“You work too hard,” Zara said calmly, “you can take the rest of the night off.
 
Go on home,” and the man nodded and went by her without a word.
 

By the time she reached the rec room she had sent two more people home.
 
Her new power of persuasion seemed to have a cost.
 
Every time she used it she felt weaker.
 
It seemed to drain her.
 
And the last guard had shown a little resistance.
 
He’d even argued a little.
  

There were no patients in the room.
 
She noticed light coming through a window of one of the rooms.
 
The blinds were closed but she could see shadowy movement.
 
The room was situated so that it had a clear view of the rec room.
 
It has to be the office
, Zara thought.
 
Whoever was in there would know where Twig was being kept.
  

She tried the door handle.
 
Locked.
 
A sudden thud came from behind the door.

She pulled hard on the door and it sprang loose from its hinges.
  
She looked inside and was shocked by what she saw.
 
Twig was lying on the floor, bleeding from his neck.
 
Vivian Caspari: the kind sweetheart from the party, was licking the blood from her lips.
 
“I’m sorry future daughter-in-law, but I’m afraid I have to finish this one off.
 
We can’t have him as one of us.
 
It would just be a bit too risky.”
 

Zara stepped into the room and glared at Vivian.
 
“Get away from him!” she yelled.
 
Vivian snarled and leapt forward, tackling Zara, taking her off her feet and the two flew across the rec room.
 
They smashed into the ping pong table and it broke in two.
 

Vivian was on her feet quicker than Zara.
 
“Now, don’t make me rip that pretty little head off your neck, darling,” she said.
 
“Show your new mommy some respect.”

Zara felt a wave of rage take over her body.
 
She rallied against her exhaustion, got to her feet and grabbed hold of Vivian.
 
Vivian hissed as Zara threw her across the room into a steel door.
 
Vivian bounced off the hard steel and went limp on the floor.
 
With some effort, she rose shakily to her feet.
 
She took a step forward, but suddenly faltered.
 
She began shaking wildly.
 
“What, what have you done?” she cried, suddenly frantic, her once angelic voice now filled with unbridled terror.

Zara looked on in horror as Vivian started contorting and twisting in quick, violent motions.
 
Her bones cracked and popped as she writhed, which, along with her anguished screams, created a horrible inhuman sound that filled the room and pierced Zara’s ears.
  

A part of Zara wanted her to help her, to try to save her from whatever horror was befalling her.
 
She had never seen or heard anything so horrible in her life.
 
But she stood there, watching as Vivian’s skin began to boil and bubble.
 
Her wail became deafening.
 
And finally she turned away, unable to watch.
 
Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light and a shockwave shook the room and threw Zara back.
 
When she got up, the room was thick with smoke, and a foul, acrid odor like the smell of burning hair filled her nostrils.
   

She wiped the dust out of her eyes. She walked timidly through the smoke, fanning it out of her way as she went.
 

The linoleum tiles had melted and warped where Vivian had been standing, and nothing was left of her save for some ash and dust on the floor.
 
She felt a breeze and watched the cloud of smoke suddenly flow out of the building.
 
The explosion had left a giant hole in the wall, and as the smoke thinned and dispersed out into the open air, she could see a group of dark trees quivering in the breezy night air.
 

She ran back to check on Twig.
 
She suddenly realized how lost she would be without him.
 
She couldn’t lose him.
 
Not now…

He wasn’t moving, and she thought the worst.
 
She dropped to the floor next to him and lifted his head off the ground and cradled it.
 
Tears began to well in her eyes, and she started cursing herself, cursing Micah, cursing them all.
   

Twigs eyes fluttered and he seemed surprised to see Zara.

“Don’t bite me,” he muttered.
 

Zara squeezed him tight and he hugged her back. “I thought you were dead,” Zara said softly in his ear.
 
She laughed and cried at the same time, overwhelmed with relief.

“No,” Twig grunted and sat up.
 
“But I’ve been better.”
 
He touched his neck.

Zara touched his neck too, gingerly.
 
The sight of blood was unnerving.
 
She had to stand up and look away.
 

“How?”
 
Zara asked, vaguely referring to Vivian exploding.

“Oh, my dad put some weird chemical in my blood.
 
You know, in case anyone tried to drink my blood.
 
Very standard parenting techniques Zar.
 
I think he picked that one up from
Doctor Oz
.”
 

Zara laughed and reached down and plucked Twig from the floor.
 
“We had better get—”

Twig grabbed her by both her arms and pulled her in, kissing her.
 
She closed her eyes and kissed him back.
 
She leaned back when he stopped and smiled.

“Well, okay then…” Zara said, swooning a bit.

“I know…I just…” Twig blushed.
 
“I just didn’t want to drag you into all this.
 
And when I thought I had lost you for good, I…”

Zara kissed him again.
 
Then she put her hands on his shoulders.
 
“Let’s get into all that later.
 
I think we should worry about this whole turning-into-vampires thing first.”
 

Twig nodded and looked around the room.
 
“Right.
 
Good point.
 
But I don’t think I’ll be turning into one.
 
I had a little chat with Damon.
 
He told me the only way to break the blood bond is to destroy whoever bit you.
 
And it must be done quickly.
 
Three nights.
 
I couldn’t be sure if he was lying, but I don’t think he was.
 
He thought I was going to rot in here forever, so why would he?”

Zara frowned.
 
“Micah.”

“Yeah,” Twig said softly.

“I don’t know if I can…” Zara said, turning away from Twig.

He held her hand. “We have to.
 
They are not alive, not really. You have to remember that.
 
When he turned his soul became trapped, enslaved to darkness.
 
I can’t see that happen to you…I won’t let it.”

“I know,” Zara said, with tears in her eyes.
   
“I don’t want it to happen either.”
 
But there was something deep inside her that thought otherwise.
  
Hadn’t the power been a rush?
 
Couldn’t she make a grand life with the power to command anyone to do what she wishes?
 
But the hunger…it was maddening.
 
But for the first time in her life she felt…strong.
 
She felt in charge.
 
She suddenly remembered a quote one of her history teachers often said in class:
Absolute power corrupts absolutely
.
 
She couldn’t help but wonder what her teacher would say
absolute mediocrity
does.
 

“Let’s go,” she said, and walked back out into the rec room.

Twig followed after her.
 
He observed the giant hole in the wall and the smashed ping -pong table.
 
“I missed a good one didn’t I?”
 

“Fairly epic,” said Zara. She began to walk towards the exit.

“Wait,” Twig said.
 
“My dad…we gotta get him out of here.”
 

Twig ran down the hall leading to the patient rooms.
 
Zara stayed close and kept looking behind her.
 
They came to a room at the end, but the door was locked.

“Let me,” Zara said.
 
“Doors are kinda my specialty now.” She took hold of the metal handle and popped the door off its hinges and set it down softly on the floor. Twig’s eyes widened. She noticed his reaction and shrugged sheepishly. You have to admit, this possession business has its upsides.”

They entered the room.
 
James was lying on his bed, clenching the Monopoly board and mumbling.
  
He kept saying “The place of sleep…the place of sleep.”
 
Zara shot Twig a nervous glance.
 
“You have to hurry,” she said.