Fate of the Vampire (6 page)

Jessie let out a long, soul
-shuddering sigh. “Someone must have been passing through Tiburon. A vampire, I mean. Maybe even a friend of the family who intended to visit us at the castle.”

“But who would have done it?” I asked. From what Jessie had told me, most modern vampires tried to keep a very low profile, only feeding from blood donated to blood banks or voluntarily given by companion
s who were attached to a specific vampire.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” he said fiercely. “This is my fault. It’s my fault that Colette is dead. I count her murder as my doing. She would have never been out in those woods if it wasn’t for me.”

“You couldn’t have known,” I told him. “Whoever killed her probably had no idea that you were in love with her. He just stumbled across a girl alone in the woods and let his appetite take over.” Even as I said the words, they felt false. In my dreams, I always knew the beast was specifically pursuing me. It hated me. It wanted me dead even more than it wanted to drink my blood. But it couldn’t have been Jessie. It just couldn’t have. I don’t know why my brain had somehow fused Jessie to that night, but it had, and all I could do about it was ignore the whole thing or tell him.

I decided to ignore it.

Jessie interrupted my thoughts by asking, “Has your family made arrangements for Colette’s burial? Because I would be more than happy to help in any way I can.”

I guess I gave him such a look that he immediately knew something was wrong. “What?” he asked.

“I thought you would have heard,” I stammered. “There was a breakin at the morgue and …” I took a deep breath and blurted, “Colette’s body is gone.”

Jessie shot to his feet. “What are you talking about?” he all but shouted at me.

“Someone stole Colette Gibson’s body from the Tiburon morgue,” I told him. “My great grandmother did her future-seeing thing again, and she somehow thinks it was you.” I couldn’t look him in the eye when I said it. The words felt like an accusation, and I didn’t want to put him on trial.

His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. He was staring at me, gasping a little like one of those Asian goldfish. Finally, he said, “Do you think I took her body?”

I shook my head. “No,” I whispered, and for some reason, I felt like I was going to cry. “I just wish we knew who did.”

Jessie ran his fingers through his hair repeatedly. He went to sit down, then stood back up again. “I think I might know,” he finally said in a low, tight voice. “I guess I’d better go find out.”

Colette’s body disappearing did nothing to quell the national new
s’s thirst for a story. In fact, it fed the flames. More news vans crowded the streets of Tiburon interviewing anyone they could corral. They were so desperately eager, I felt embarrassed for them. It was a very opportunistic way to make a living.

Tuesday morning was more subdued at school. My family’s pain was still very much on people’s radar, especially with reporters easily visible lurking barely off school property, but there was a new drama to divert people’s attention. Liz Thurman was missing.

She had gotten into a fight with her father Sunday night and stormed out of the house saying she was going to go stay with her sister, who was a student at Ohio State. Her parents assumed she would catch the bus down there, bellyache to her sister, spend the night, and then come on home. The problem was that she never showed up. Her sister hadn’t heard from her. And there was no record of her purchasing a bus ticket. She might have paid cash, but so far, no one had stepped forward with any memory of her at all. She had simply disappeared. Her parents were growing increasingly panicked.

A dead great
-great aunt was nothing compared to a missing classmate as far as school gossip goes. Everyone had a theory as to where Liz was hiding. The police had interviewed her best friends and her boyfriend, but none of them had a clue.

Unfortunately, the fight Liz had with her father was about her cell phone usage, so she’d stormed out of the house without it. The police couldn’t even track her by her calls. It was spooky how easily she had vanished.

“I think she’s just hiding somewhere ′cause she’s pissed at her dad,” Blossom said as we sat in the cafeteria during lunch.

“I don’t think disappearing for two days is a good way to get back at your father,” I said, munching on a celery stick. I’d been indulging a lot lately and needed to ree
l in my eating before I ballooned up a pants size. “And besides, where is she? I mean, she hasn’t used the credit card her parents gave her for emergencies; she’s not at her sister’s; I’m sure she wasn’t walking around with enough cash to pay for a hotel room for two days. No matter how you look at this, it doesn’t sound good.”

“Yeah, but this is Tiburon. People just don’t disappear from Tiburon,” Blossom insisted. I shot her a look
, so she quickly amended her statement. “At least not in the last couple of decades.”

I did not at all feel comfortable for Liz. And I knew, no matter what Blossom said, that there were weirdos everywhere. A few months earlier, I had been harassed by some scuzzbag in the library parking lot. Things got a little heated
, and he let me know without a doubt that he had very bad intentions. Of course, that was until Jessie snatched him off the ground, flew very high into the air, and then let him drop. He caught the creep before he hit the pavement then instructed him to leave town and never harass any female ever again or he’d be sorry. I was quite sure the scuzzbag took him seriously, but it did prove my point that you always have to be careful, even in a very nice small town with a well-staffed police department.

“So, what are you getting Dreamboat for Christmas?” Blossom asked, helping herself to some of my goldfish crackers.

“Gah …” I groaned. “I have no idea.” The holidays were quickly barreling down on us, and I felt that I could easily panic about the whole gift-giving thing. Jessie’s family was extremely wealthy, and it was just ridiculous trying to think of something to buy for a person who had easy access to anything his heart desired. Plus, he’d been on the planet for about ninety-seven or so years, so he’d had plenty of time to indulge his whims. He’d suggested that we put a price cap on our gift giving in consideration of my more limited budget, but I intended to ignore his gallantry—as long as I could think of a really good gift.

“Want to go shopping after school?” Blossom asked, interrupting my thoughts. “I haven’t even started on my list.”

I shook my head. “Can’t. I think we’re getting Grandma Gibson out of the hospital this afternoon.”

“You
r life has been so fun lately,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Great grandmother collapsing, dead aunt’s body appearing and then disappearing … Good times.”

“Yeah.” I had to agree with her. “It’s been interesting.”

“At least you have a gorgeous boyfriend,” Blossom pointed out. “Now, there’s a shoulder to cry on. Complete and total yum.”

“You should try talking to Fred a little,” I told her. “He’s got broad shoulders.”

“Yeah … I guess.” Blossom turned her head to shoot a speculative look across the cafeteria to where Fred was sitting with a bunch of the other jocks. “I’m just really over the whole jock thing. You know?”

For Blossom to say she was over dating jocks was like Mother Theresa
saying she didn’t care about feeding the poor of Calcutta. It just felt wrong. “Are you feeling okay?” I asked, lifting my hand to touch her on the forehead. “Are you running a fever?”

“Get off.” Blossom brushed my hand away with a laugh. “I just don’t feel like I can date a high school boy right now
, and I’m not getting involved with some creepy college guy who is too immature to date someone his own age,” she insisted. “I just think maybe I need a break from guys in general. Unless,” she added, after giving it some thought, “Jessie has a hot brother, and you feel like fixing us up.”

“He does,” I told her
. “But he’s twenty-four and kind of a jerk.”

Driving home from school, I wished, and not for the first time, that Jessie had a cell phone. I wasn’t one of those girls who were always glued to their phone, but it would have been nice to be able to send him a text. Not that he’d get it until after sundown, but still, I was seventeen. I did crave some interaction with my boyfriend beyond his fleeting visits. Plus, I had no idea if he was coming over that evening or not.

Mom came by the house to get me
, and we headed to the hospital together. I was hoping for a few minutes alone with Grandma Gibson so I could tell her that Jessie was not responsible for stealing Colette’s body. She probably wouldn’t believe me, but I was determined to at least tell her. I knew it was ridiculous to want to make my great grandmother actually like my vampire boyfriend, but her approval meant a lot to me, so I had to keep trying.

When we got to the hospital, there were even more reporters than the day before. It was like there was no other news happening in the whole country
, and everyone was converging on our tiny town. Fortunately, the staff was ready for us, and we made it up to room 444 without much hassle.

Grandma was ready and waiting for us. She did not like hospitals and was eager to leave. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us a few days?” Mom asked her.

“You can have my room. I don’t mind the couch,” I assured her.

“No, I don’t want to be a burden,” Grandma Gibson said.

“You wouldn’t be a burden,” Mom insisted, sounding almost angry. “You’re my grandmother. This is what families do.”

Grams just smiled and patted her on the hand. “Let’s just get this over with. I think they’re serving creamed corn tonight
, and I don’t want to miss it.” I knew for a fact that Grandma Gibson hated creamed corn.

I hated to be selfish, but I was secretly grateful my great grandmother wasn’t coming to stay at our house. I could only imagine what would happen if Jessie came by and she was there. Knowing how feisty she could get, I imagined she might try to stake him with a wooden spoon or something.

All patients have to leave the hospital by wheelchair for some reason, so we rolled Grandma Gibson out the back. Someone must have tipped the reporters off that we were on our way because they swarmed us, shouting questions and shoving microphones in our faces. “Leave us alone, you parasites,” my mother yelled at them, trying to pry open the car door.

Fortunately
, the police showed up to inform the parasites that the parking lot was still hospital property and they had to get back. Grandma Gibson appeared to shrink and wither under the glare of the lights and cameras that kept rolling even though the police physically made sure the reporters gave us some space. I felt so bad for her. For almost her entire life she had worried and fretted over the fate of her sister. And now that she finally knew the truth that her sister was dead, now that she could properly mourn, she was being terrorized by the unceasing appetite of the twenty-four-hour news cycle.

As Grandma Gibson got to her feet
, her head started wobbling a little, like you see with very old people. I thought she was going to cry, and I was reaching out to support her, but then I noticed there was a fierce look in her eyes. She turned to glare at the reporters. They were all hair sprayed and camera ready, eyes glistening with the hope of a good sound bite. She pointed at the dyed blonde who had accosted me in the lobby. The woman smirked, thinking she’d been singled out for an exclusive. “You will die of ovarian cancer,” Grandma Gibson told her. “Even now, cells are mutating in your body. You will ignore the symptoms, assuming the disease would never dare touch someone like you. By the time you are diagnosed, it will be too late.”

The smile slid off the reporter’s blandly pretty face.

A man standing next to the blonde gave a small, vicious laugh. Grandma Gibson turned on him next. “You are cheating on your wife, and your mistress has a communicable disease. Your wife will find out the next time she goes to the gynecologist because you have spread it to her. She will divorce you, and your children will never forgive you for all the pain you caused your family. You will die miserable and alone.”

The man’s delighted smile went the way of his competit
or’s smirk. “But,” he stammered. “How did …?”

Grandma Gibson was in no mood to answer his question. She pointed her shaking hand at the next parasite with a microphone and predicted that his lack of acceptance of his gay son would lead to the boy attempting suicide.

The reporters and camera crews all stood there, speechless. The cameras were all rolling, but no one could think of a thing to say. “Come on, Grams,” Mom said, trying to get the old lady in the car. “I think we’d better go.”

But Grandma Gibson had one more thing to tell the stunned mob. She held her head high. She may have been old and feeble, but she was also defiant and had a regal air about her. “Feeding off the pain of others for a living becomes a lot less glamorous when you have to face the tragedies of your own creation. I hope you remember this moment when you must embrace the future suffering in
your lives.”

With that, we all got into the car
, and mom pulled out of the hospital parking lot. Grandma Gibson let out a loud, satisfied sigh. “I quite enjoyed that,” she said to no one in particular.

Future
-predicting grandma was creepy.