Angel at Dawn (45 page)
Authors: Emma Holly
Tags: #Ghost stories, #Vampires, #Horror, #Paranormal, #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal romance stories, #Motion picture producers and directors, #Occult fiction, #Ghosts, #Occult & Supernatural, #Love stories
We cut to GANG MEMBERS we can’t identify running through the WOODS. POLICE with flashlights are shouting and chasing them. The vampires leap over obstacles like gazelles.
Back in the BOXCAR, JOE and MARY are kissing even more passionately than before. They break apart as Joe’s buddies, CHARLIE, PHILIP, and MATTHEW, scramble breathlessly through the boxcar’s door. So full of themselves they’re bursting, the trio boasts how they deliberately made so much noise the police couldn’t resist chasing them. [Shots of what they’re describing intercut as they speak.] Naturally, George’s men also pursued the trio. They couldn’t let Joe’s faction get away with their mutiny. Charlie, Philip, and Matthew maneuvered both parties together, then—
whoosh
—disappeared at the last moment by jumping into the trees. “The police had silver crosses,” Charlie explains. “They arrested your father and his poopheads.” Joe is amazed and humbled by this tale. His friends have made him their new leader, essentially burning their bridges with George Pryor.
whoosh
—disappeared at the last moment by jumping into the trees. “The police had silver crosses,” Charlie explains. “They arrested your father and his poopheads.” Joe is amazed and humbled by this tale. His friends have made him their new leader, essentially burning their bridges with George Pryor.
At the POLICE STATION, the CAPTURED FANGS are herded by POLICE with crosses into a holding cell. The police seem not to have observed the vampires up close before. “Look at them,” one nervous YOUNG OFFICER exclaims at their distorted faces. “They’re like animals.” “They are animals,” says ANOTHER OFFICER, “and it’s about time this town put them in cages.” GEORGE PRYOR is the last to be backed in. As the cell door clangs shut, his glowing eyes make him look more demonic than beastly. Even with the bars between them, the police flinch back from his rabid snarl.
Meanwhile, MARY, JOE, and JOE’S FRIENDS have settled down inside the BOXCAR. An air of domesticity surrounds them. A portable radio plays the Platters or something similarly soft and romantic. A lantern has been lit for Mary, who snuggles close to Joe. Joe unzips his motorcycle jacket so it wraps both of them. PHILIP and MATTHEW sprawl near the couple, more relaxed than we’ve seen them yet. Philip picks a leaf out of Matthew’s hair, then gently strokes it smooth. Matthew is sharing a story about how when he was human, he wished he could ride the train. “My father hated me,” he says, “and my mother was always on me about something. Every night I’d dream about jumping on a train up to Canada, how the snow would fall like feathers, and it’d be so quiet I could finally think for myself.” “Too bad
this
train isn’t going anywhere,” CHARLIE not quite jokes. He’s standing guard by the boxcar’s slightly open door. He fiddles with the watch he stole from Mary’s father, some internal pressure nudging him. Finally, the pressure bursts. He turns toward the others. “We have to go back,” he says. “That girl tonight. She was still breathing when we left her.” We see on Joe’s face that part of him isn’t happy to hear this. He wants to keep Mary safe, not risk their lives rescuing some stranger. “Your father’s in jail,” Charlie points out. “And if the police come looking for us at the mansion, we’ll outrun them just like before.” Philip glances at Matthew, both of them unsure. “Dawn isn’t that far away,” Philip cautions. Hoping for support, Charlie gazes pleadingly at Joe. He knows the decision is up to Joe, but Charlie wants this chance to redeem himself. “You said it yourself,” Charlie reminds him. “That girl has a family just like we did. And maybe hers loves her. We should try to save her before we skip town for good.” Charlie has never expressed a heroic impulse before. This helps Joe make up his mind. He rises and slaps Charlie’s shoulder, man-to-man. Mary gazes up at him proudly. “All right,” Joe says. “The least we can do is try.”
this
train isn’t going anywhere,” CHARLIE not quite jokes. He’s standing guard by the boxcar’s slightly open door. He fiddles with the watch he stole from Mary’s father, some internal pressure nudging him. Finally, the pressure bursts. He turns toward the others. “We have to go back,” he says. “That girl tonight. She was still breathing when we left her.” We see on Joe’s face that part of him isn’t happy to hear this. He wants to keep Mary safe, not risk their lives rescuing some stranger. “Your father’s in jail,” Charlie points out. “And if the police come looking for us at the mansion, we’ll outrun them just like before.” Philip glances at Matthew, both of them unsure. “Dawn isn’t that far away,” Philip cautions. Hoping for support, Charlie gazes pleadingly at Joe. He knows the decision is up to Joe, but Charlie wants this chance to redeem himself. “You said it yourself,” Charlie reminds him. “That girl has a family just like we did. And maybe hers loves her. We should try to save her before we skip town for good.” Charlie has never expressed a heroic impulse before. This helps Joe make up his mind. He rises and slaps Charlie’s shoulder, man-to-man. Mary gazes up at him proudly. “All right,” Joe says. “The least we can do is try.”
Back at the JAIL, sunlight begins to stream through the holding cell’s window. BONEHEAD, GROWLER, and MACE try to shrink back but are caught in the beams and go up like torches. TWO POLICEMEN—one young, one older—arrive in time to see this. They shield their faces, expecting JOE’S FATHER also will ignite. Instead, with a berserker’s growl of rage, he grabs the bars and rips them out of the wall. Swatting the police aside like flies, he escapes the jail. “I thought he’d burn,” the YOUNG POLICEMAN cries. “Why didn’t he burn, too?”
The camera shows JOE’S FATHER in the street OUTSIDE THE JAIL. Though he’s lost his men, he looks crazed enough to overcome anything. He searches his surroundings and appears to catch a scent on the air. When he takes off, we know he’s going after our heroes.
MARY, JOE, and JOE’S FRIENDS reach the PRYOR MANSION under cover of the trees. Only Mary is cracking twigs underfoot. Though the made vampires are looking sleepy, they glide into the house silently. They’re armed with sticks they’ve sharpened. Joe leads them as if he’s been in command all his life.
Inside, they find the UNCONSCIOUS GIRL hanging from the hooks in the DINING ROOM. CHARLIE rushes to her. She’s still alive! He takes her down tenderly. The girl’s eyelids flutter. “You,” she murmurs, not as frightened as she should be. Somehow, there is a connection between these two. “Shh,” Charlie soothes. “We’ll get you to a hospital.” He looks at MARY and JOE, the only ones who can brave the sun. “Yes,” Joe says. “We’ll take her.” He accepts the weakened girl from Charlie. Joe’s fangs slide out at the blood. “Will you be all right?” Mary asks. “I can stand it,” he says. “You three watch out for each other,” he tells his men. “Find someplace safe to sleep. We’ll meet in the woods by the train depot at sunset.”
In the PRYOR MANSION GARAGE, JOE and MARY settle the GIRL into the backseat of a limousine that has to be decades old. Joe finds an old chauffeur’s cap, making Mary laugh by putting it on backward. Suddenly, a terrible cry rings out. “My father’s here,” Joe cries and rushes back to the house.
JOE comes upon an awful scene in the KITCHEN. MATTHEW and PHILIP lie unconscious amidst the dust and neglect, but CHARLIE’S state is worse. JOE’S FATHER has stabbed him through the chest with a long tree branch. George is crouched above Charlie, both hands wrapped around the impromptu spear, shoving it farther in. He laughs when Joe skids to a halt at the threshold. “It’s all right,” Charlie gasps through his pain. “He missed my heart.” “Missed it on purpose,” George crows. “Wouldn’t be much fun if my Joe’s buddies died too quickly.” Joe growls and attacks him. Father and son wrestle back and forth, turning more of the kitchen into kindling. Joe gets the upper hand, grabs a broken chair leg, and prepares to stake his father. “You can’t dust me,” his father taunts. “Charlie’s dying. I’m the only one whose blood is strong enough to save him.” Doubt shadows Joe’s face as he and his father struggle for control of the stake. “Kill him,” Charlie urges, seeing Joe having second thoughts. “None of us is safe as long as he’s alive.” Joe’s father opens his mouth to mock him some more. Joe sets his jaw and plunges the stake deep into his heart. Effects show the body skeletonize and then turn to ash. Joe runs to Charlie, only now taking in the full horror of his impalement. Vampire or not, it seems impossible that he can survive. “Just pull it out,” Charlie says. “I’m not sorry if it ends this way. At least I . . . did the right thing for once.” MARY appears at the door and gasps. “Is the girl all right?” Charlie asks. “Yes,” Mary says, blank with shock. Then she shakes herself and addresses Joe. “Do you need help? Would drinking my blood help him?” In spite of everything, Joe smiles at her with great love. “He needs my blood. I’m just not certain it’s strong enough to heal him.” Knowing he has to try, Joe braces Charlie down with his weight and yanks out the branch. Charlie groans. Mary’s face reflects how hideous the injury is. Joe bites his wrist and offers it to Charlie. Weak at first, Charlie latches on hungrily. Joe’s expression is open to interpretation—maybe pain, maybe pleasure. Whatever his feelings, it’s clear the experience is intense. He opens his eyes to look at Mary, and his muscles relax. We see that knowing her has brought peace to his troubled soul.
MARY and JOE wait together in the HALL outside the girl’s hospital room. Joe asks Mary if she’s sure she wants to leave town with him and his boys. The police are searching for them, and they can’t stay. He swears he’ll protect her if she joins them, but if she stays in Haileyville, she could still have a normal life. “From the moment I was born, I was meant to love you,” she says. “Nothing will ever feel as right to me as that.” Joe is temporarily struck speechless. “How can I deserve to be loved by you?” he chokes out. “Love me back,” Mary teases. Joe flings his arms around her. “I do,” he promises throatily. “I’ll love you forever.”
FINAL CREDITS roll over scenes of the young people’s happiness. They are living in a cozy Craftsmanstyle house somewhere. It is night and snow is heaped on the windowsills. Framed photographs of the Olympic Mountains, presumably taken by Mary, suggest they have made it to Canada, just as Matthew dreamed. A fire crackles in the hearth while JOE and MARY cuddle together in a big chair. CHARLIE chases the now CONSCIOUS GIRL over and around the furniture while she giggles. We see she’s not only recovered from her ordeal but happy. MATTHEW and PHILIP are playing chess. They exchange grins at the new couple’s silliness. Joe gives Mary a subtly suggestive look. They rise, hand in hand, while the others hide their smiles and pretend not to notice them leaving. Joe backs Mary against the frame of a bedroom door. “Are you ready?” we see but don’t hear him ask. Mary smiles and nods shyly. He leans to her. Kisses her neck. We expect him to bite her, but then he nicks his own throat with a silver knife. Mary wets her lips, hesitates, and then sucks the cut he made. This time, there’s no mistaking Joe’s pleasure. His fangs slide out. Mary’s eyes begin to glow like his as she feeds from him, and we understand that he’s turning her. Romantic music swells beautifully. Their love truly will last forever now.
Turn the page for a preview of the next book by Michelle Rowen
NIGHTSHADE
Available February 2011 from Berkley Sensation!
One
L
ife as I knew it ended at half past eleven on a Tuesday morning.
ife as I knew it ended at half past eleven on a Tuesday morning.
There were currently thirty minutes left.
“What’s your poison?” I asked my friend and co-worker Stacy on my way out of the office on a coffee break.
She looked up at me from a spreadsheet on her computer screen, her eyes practically crossed from crunching numbers all morning. “You’re a serious lifesaver, Jill, you know that?”
“Well aware.” I grinned at her, then shifted my purse to my other shoulder and took the five-dollar-bill she thrust at me.
“I’ll take a latte, extra foam. And one of those divine white chocolate chunk cookies. My stomach’s growling happily just thinking about it.”
Stacy didn’t normally go for the cookie action. “No diet today?”
“Fuck diets.”
“Can I quote you?”
She laughed. “I’ll have it printed on a T-shirt. Hey, Steve! Jill’s headed to the coffee shop. You want anything?”
I groaned inwardly. I hadn’t wanted to make a big production out of it since I hated making change. Unlike Stacy, math was not my friend.
Finally, I made it out of the office, a yellow sticky note clenched in my fist scrawled with four different coffee orders.
Twenty minutes left.
The line-up at Starbucks was, as usual, ridiculous. I waited. I ordered. I waited some more. I juggled my wallet and my purse along with the bag of pastries and take-out tray of steaming caffeine and finally left the shop, passing an electronics store on my way back. It had a bunch of televisions in the window set to CNN. Some plane crash in Europe was blazing. No survivors. I shivered despite the heat of the day and continued walking.
Five minutes left
.
.
I returned to my office building, which not only housed Lambert Capital, the investment and financial analysis company where I currently temped, but also several other multinational businesses, including a small pharmaceutical research company, a marketing firm, and a modeling agency.
“Hold the elevator,” I called out as I crossed the expansive lobby. My heels clicked against the shiny black marble floor. Despite my request, the elevator was
not
held. The doors closed when I was only a couple of steps away from it, a look of bemusement on the sole occupant’s face who hadn’t done me the honor of waiting.
not
held. The doors closed when I was only a couple of steps away from it, a look of bemusement on the sole occupant’s face who hadn’t done me the honor of waiting.
Jerk
.
.
I wished I wasn’t laden down with multiple coffees—all large—as well as my mondo-sized purse that currently gaped open, offering a glimpse at my cluttered life inside. My feet ached from my new shoes.
One minute left
.
.
I nudged the up button with my elbow and waited, watching as the number above the doors stopped at the tenth floor, ISB Pharmaceuticals, paused for what felt like an eternity, and then slowly descended back to the lobby. The other elevator seemed eternally stuck at the fifteenth.
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