Revenant (7 page)

“It’s okay,” she tells me. “It’s okay. We’ll get her. There’s still time.”

I can’t speak, the tears are coming on too fast. I want to tell Dodger it’s not Meg I’m crying over, but I can’t get the words out. I can still feel Alex’s blood on my face. These stains won’t be coming off.

When I’ve cried myself out, Dodger urges me to head home. She escorts me. I take the lead while Dodger watches our backs. Everything in the dark now seems to be plotting against me. Every mailbox is a sentry for Meg and every crow is a spy. I’m shivering. I tell Dodger it’s the nighttime chill, but I know it’s a different kind of shiver. It’s fear. There’s something here.

I see something flicker. It’s a shadow behind a parked car. I don’t know what body cast it, and I don’t care to investigate further. I speed up my pace, now more power-walking than walking. Dodger matches pace.

“The city seems so much more dangerous at night.” I say.

“The day is why people are drawn to cities,” Dodger replies. “The night is why people leave them.”

Suddenly, every child’s fear of the dark has become legitimate. There are quite literal monsters in the dark, and I just killed one. Only, Alex wasn’t fully a monster. He was human once. As I killed him, he no longer seemed inhuman. His face contorted in the fear and agony of a terrified human being. His blood warm and red like anyone else’s.

The thought triggers an urge to gag. I force myself to suppress it. I just want to go home, change out of these clothes and into my pajamas and collapse in my bed. It’s too big now. I can’t keep these secrets. In the morning I’ll tell my parents everything. They’ll understand. We’ll all hunt Meg together, because as long as Dodger kills her she’ll be human again and everyone will be happy. I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have let things get this far, but the die is cast now.

By the time we arrive at my house, my shoulders are dotted in goosebumps and we’re both shaking from the cold. We stop in front of my door.

“You’ll be safe inside,” Dodger says. “But if you want, I’ll crash with you tonight.”

“I’ll be okay. Thanks though,”

“No problem. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need me.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll get her, Scout. One day we’ll get Meg and this will all go away.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Say hi to Bruce for me.”

“Oh he’s not going to be a happy camper when he smells blood on me. He’ll go insane with hunger. Damn thing’s like a shark. But yes, I’ll be sure to give him a warm salutations for you.”

She hugs me and trots off. It’s only when she’s out of sight when I realize my front door is slightly ajar.

I ease it open further, hearing its distinctive creak. The first thing to hit me is a smell. Something I don’t remember smelling before, but still I feel like I know it. Something... off. I kick off my shoes and search in the dark for the hooks on the wall where we hang our jackets. When the jacket’s hung up, I take the quiver off and lay it by the front door.

I can’t quite see the way to the stairs from the door. Still holding the bow in one hand, I fumble for the lightswitch so I can see if there’s anything in my path I wouldn’t like stepping on.

The light turns on. My mother lies at the bottom of the staircase.

It looks like she fell. She’s crumpled up in an unnatural position . Her neck was broken in the fall, and she’s staring at me from across the room with pale, ghostly eyes. Her right arm hangs limp beside her, broken so badly at the elbow it now points in the wrong direction.

She’s dead. I know she’s dead, but it doesn’t register. I don’t feel anything. Just numb. I feel calm as I approach her body and examine it. Her shirt is drenched in blood. There’s a gaping hole in her neck where I can see the stringy neck muscles. Her left hand is clenched, but it’s not holding anything.

I head upstairs, but I know what I’m going to find next. My father’s dead too. He died on my bed. His neck was snapped more severely than my mother’s and his body was covered in smaller lacerations and bruises. His pistol lies on the ground near the wall, which has been splattered in blood. His blood soaks my bedsheets now. I realize that’s what I smelled when I walked in. My dad’s blood, my mom’s blood, and I hope there’s a bit of
her
blood in there too. I hope my dad at least plucked one of
her
eyes out before he fell.

Right on cue, Meg struts into the room.

“Sorry ‘bout the parents. But if only somebody had been a good little girl and told the truth... I guess they’d still be around.”

She’s behind me. I have neither the will nor the courage to turn around and face her. My question is deadpan. “How did you get in?”

“Played the scared lost woman card. They invited me right in. Really though, that’s what you lead with? I was really hoping for some tears out of you.”

“No. No tears. I am going to kill you first. And then I will have time to cry.”

My hand grips the bow.

                 I let out an inhuman scream. All my pain and loss finds itself escaping my body through my lungs and the scream becomes as intense as a banshee’s. I whirl around, swinging the bow at Meg. She simply jumps out of the way. I stab at her. She catches it and wrests the weapon from my control, snapping it in half over her knee.

              “You’re supposed to join me, Scout! Elizabeth’s debt is yet to be repaid.”

              “No!” I slam into her, surprising myself with my own strength. Meg falls to the ground and I pin her down with my left arm pressing into her throat. I smash her face over and over. I break her nose and start for her eyes but she bites me. I jump back in pain.

              Meg rushes at me. Training with my dad comes back and I dodge her easily, her momentum sending her crashing into my bed. Below me are the pieces of my bow, now conveniently broken into two wooden stakes. I grab one in each hand and face her.

Meg snarls. Her eyes now a brilliant scarlet. I rush at her and she leaps at me. My first stake finds her shoulder as she bites down into my neck. She tears away like an animal on its prey, but I keep thrusting the stake into her shoulder until she breaks off.

I quickly reach up to feel the wound. It’s bleeding fast, but she missed the jugular. And I know why. She still wants to turn me. Dodger said for a human to turn vampire, she needed a vampire’s blood inside her own body. I have none. Meg can only kill me.

Another rush from Meg. I sidestep her and thrust the next stake through her leg, just above her knee, She crumples over, yanking the stake from her leg but unable to stand up.

Got you.

I raise my stake in the air, ready to end it.

“Do it!” she says. “Slay me, Scout! And damn your friend to an eternity of pain!”

I stop in my tracks. I forgot, in the blur of slayer super-adrenaline, that I needed Dodger to deliver the killing blow.

“Ah... and there we are. Is this selflessness or cowardice? Do it, Scout! Kill me!”

I reach for my phone. I intend to call Dodger over so this sad story can finish itself. Meg has other ideas. She stumbles to her feet just long enough to snatch the phone out of my hands. I notice a wound on her stomach. She’s been shot. Good, my father put up a fight after all.

“What happened, Scout? You said you were going to kill me just two minutes ago.”

“You know I can’t.”

“Oh well... but one of us is going to die tonight. So if you’re not going to do it...”

“You
will
die tonight, Meg. But not by my hand.”

“Go ahead, then. Try calling your friend.” She dangles my phone out in front of me. I reach for it, but- as expected- she jerks the phone out of my reach.

“Hear that sound?” says Meg, gesturing to the air. “The ticking of the clock? Tick. Tick. Tick...”

She’s losing her grip. She’s slipping...

“It’s past midnight, princess!” she continues. “The ball’s over! Tick! Tick! Tick! My time’s up, but yours isn’t far behind! Tick! Tick! Tick! Time’s up! Finish the job, princess! Finish it!”

She collapses, as if exhausted. Her breathing is slow, loud, and deep. I still have a stake in my hand, it would be so easy to follow her orders, but I know it’s not right. If I leave for Dodger’s, she’ll heal enough to escape. I need to get my phone back.

“Okay, Meg, I’ll kill you. Just give me back my phone.”

“Liar! Charlatan! You’ll call
her
over!”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Meg thinks about it. She remains hunched over, breathing through her mouth because I broke her nose so badly. With great effort she raises her arm up to me, phone in hand. I cautiously reach my hand for the phone. I keep my eyes trained on hers. My free hand remains grasping the stake.

My fingers only barely brush against the phone’s screen when Meg seems to change her mind. She hurls my phone against the wall, smashing it. I pick it up and try to revive the device, but it’s beyond salvation. Meg says nothing. She only grins at me and tips her head to the side.

“So now the choice is yours, Princess. Be you coward or heroine? Strike me down, or I escape for good. Tick tock tick tock.”

I can’t. I try to will myself to kill her, but my hand refuses to be the one to deliver the blow. Meg will have to live, but only barely.

I bring the stake down on her. There’s terrible cracking, squishing sound as I make a kebob out of her eyeball. I toss the stake at her feet and exit the room. Adrenaline courses through me again. I work fast to ready myself before Meg recovers. I dart into the basement and find the closest bow to my size, then rummage our supplies until I find my father’s matchbox and dump it in my quiver along with ten fresh arrows, then bolt outside into this endless night.

My plan had been to run to Dodger’s, but I don’t get far before the idea of killing Meg brings me to a standstill. I can either turn back now and end this while I still have the chance, or I can extend the story. I can take the risk that one day, one day less than fifteen years from now, Dodger and I will cross paths with Meg again.

I cast the die. To Dodger’s I go.

Act Five: Silence/Aurora

Two years pass. I enter my senior year of high school as a new student in Washington, living in Uncle Hunter’s house. My parents’ murder became a national phenomenon, the launching point for virulent debate and discussion over the airwaves by the pundits, half of whom claimed I was the murderer. The hawks would gather on my porch for months calling for my head. Dodger and I would grow distant in the aftermath. At first it was just a safety thing. She went into hiding somewhere else in Cascadia and I didn’t risk getting into contact with her. Besides, between the court proceedings and the slayer training, I wouldn’t have had much time to see her anyways.

My name was cleared two months ago, after a judge threw the evidence against me out, saying it was not enough. My blood had been found where I fought Meg, but it had apparently mixed with Meg’s and become unreliable. Other than that, they had nothing but conjecture against me.

They never did find Alex’s body. In one of the last actual conversations we had, Dodger told me a dead vampire simply turns to dust in the sunlight. I remember shivering at the thought of Alex being dust. I wonder if I’ve breathed him in.

It’s Christmas Eve now, and I get a call from Dodger on my new phone. My heart races. I retire to my room to talk to her in private.

“Hello?”

“Scout, your voice. So weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Just seems... mature somehow.”

I haven’t actually talked to Dodger in a year and a half, but she sounds exactly the way I remembered. My voice must have deepened a bit over the years, though I never noticed.

“So... what’s up?” I ask.

“I... I found Meg.”

“What?”

There’s a crackling noise at the other end. A few seconds later, another voice speaks.

It’s Meg. “More like I found her.”

“Meg...”

“Thanks princess for leaving the kingdom. Now the witch has come to steal the crown. And now, it’s time we ended our little dispute.”

“What do you want?”

“I want the old days back, Scout. Remember when you’d sneak out at night hunting me and protecting your friend here? Don’t you miss those days?”

“Cut the crap, Meg. What. Do. You. Want.”

“I want you to come back. Eliz-
Dodger
here still has a debt to repay. You have three days, princess. If you don’t show, fine. I’ll just kill her. That’ll do, I guess.”

I try to affect more confidence than I actually have. If Meg were in front of me now, I would just try to kill her and not mince words. Now, over the phone, I’ve got no move but to call her bluff. “Oh Meg, if you had the guts to kill her, you’d have done it by now.”

“You want me to kill her now, then?”

“No! I’ll come. I’ll come...” I try and marshal that contrived confidence again. “But I hope you know you just signed your own death warrant.”

“We’ll see about that, princess. Take the bus in. Let no one know where you will be.”

I left that night. Technically, 12:00 Christmas morning. My matches, quiver, bow, and arrows accompany me in a suitcase. I drove over to the nearest bus station and boarded the first bus I could find for Portland. It’s nearing the city now. I’m one of only four people riding so late in the night. A woman in the front row glances at me behind dark sunglasses before burying them in a book. An old, fat man with a cane eyes me as I walk to the very back seat. It’s late. I’m tired. I rest my head against the window pane and try to lull myself to sleep.

The bus hits a speedbump and the window rattles against my head. The glass is cold. The chill seeps through my hoodie and into my head. It’s been snowing all day long and now it starts to pick up with fat snowflakes slamming against the window as if they’re trying to grab my attention. I drown them out by turning up the volume on my iPod. The Smiths get a little louder and I close my eyes.

Another bump in the road. The window rattles again and vibrates against the side of my head. I wonder once more if these rattle-prone windows are intentionally made to wake people up. I wonder if Dodger is alive. I know Meg has a trap readied for me, but I don’t know what form that trap will take.

My phone buzzes. A text from Dodger.

Get off next stop. -M

I’m at least two stops away from Portland’s city limits. I haven’t quite reached the river yet. I sit there, debating whether or not I should follow through, until I receive a second text.

Now.

I rise, pulling the cord signalling the bus driver to stop next time he can. The woman with the sunglasses stands and has a quick exchange with the bus driver. He nods and drives a short while further before pulling over and opening the doors for me.

It’s not any kind of recognizable bus stop. We’re stopped along a heavily wooded section of road about ten miles north of Portland. There’s no sign of any sort of civilization. Only wilds where animals still reign dominant.

I reach into my suitcase and pull out an arrow. I conceal it under my jacket as I walk down the aisle. I drag the suitcase behind me, which clicks and clacks erratically against the seats, unwilling to go silently. The moment I step off the bus and onto the ground, the woman with the sunglasses gets to her feet and follows me. I hurry off the bus but I can’t make it very far lugging the suitcase. I don’t make it ten steps into the woods before the woman shouts at me.

“Now where do you think you’re headed, princess?”

I guess I should have seen that one coming. Meg takes off the sunglasses and tosses them on the grass. My stomach churns at the sight of her right eye. Or lack thereof.

“What? What, Scout?
You
did it to me.”

“Where’s Dodger? What... what have you done with her?”

“Dodger will be with us shortly. Now, then. I take it you’re at long last ready to fulfill the debt?”

The wind picks up and tosses the falling snowflakes into little spirals of winter. It flecks our hair and caps the branches of the dead trees. There’s no natural light to be found, but the moon is bright and full, bathing Meg in a pale glow. I kneel down and start to open the suitcase.

“Tsk, tsk, I wouldn’t do that, princess.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Aw, well why not?”

“Well.. why
are
you calling me that?”

“Because, we are going to become a family. Me, the queen, you the princess. We will spend the rest of time together. Hunting together. Killing together. Pleasuring our adoring subjects and adding more willing members when needed. But I notice you haven’t answered my question. The debt. Are you ready?”

“I... I want to see Dodger first.”

“And see her you shall. Preferably before dawn.” Meg nonchalantly scans over her fingernails as she speaks. “Yes... we’ll want there to be as little daylight as possible for your transition.”

“Where is she?”

“Relax, she’s coming. She’s coming.”

Not long after I see headlights of a car in the distance. A pale blue convertible  comes careening down the road, rolling to a stop at the same spot the bus did. Dodger’s sitting in the passenger seat. Beside her sits a tall, strong-looking man. The back seats are occupied by a woman dressed in a long black dress with wavy brown hair and a small boy.

Dodger exits the car only after the driver leans over and whispers something to her. Her movements are robotic and stiff as if someone replaced all the tendons and bones in her body with gears and bolts. She follows closely behind the tall man and the four of them line up beside Meg.

“More family members of yours, I presume?”

“Three family members and one selfish bitch who turned her back on it. But yes. They’re all my children.”

The boy seems unable to hold back some sort of urge. He keeps growling and jerking his head around like a dog. His eyes glow auburn.

“Keep in mind these are all fairly new recruits. The smell of fresh blood still makes them a bit... antsy,” says Meg. “Little Tyler especially. But that’s okay. Once you join us, they’ll be a lot friendlier.”

“You have Dodger hypnotized. I want her set free first.”

“Oh princess are you really in a position now to negotiate? In case you haven’t noticed, it’s five against one.”

“Five?”

“Yes. One, two, three, four, five. What’s the matter? Do they not teach math at the school of slayers?”

She was including Dodger in the count of five. Several seconds crawl by, and I still can’t accept it. But Dodger looks... hollow. She looks as though her soul had been sucked out of her, leaving her a marionette for Meg to manipulate.

“Hank, let Dodger loose,” says Meg. Dodger turns around to face Hank, the tall, strong man. They exchange a glance with each other and when Dodger turns back around, her movements are no longer robotic. They’re fluid and agile. She takes one look at me and runs straight for me.

But she’s not coming to embrace me.

It’s almost too late when I realize her red eyes and flared fangs. I leap to the right and somersault back to my feet. My hand reaches on instinct for my hidden arrow, but I stop myself. I am
not
going to fall for this. Dodger regains her footing and comes charging at me again. I stand my ground. Waiting. Waiting.

I slam my fist hard against her cheek. She sprawls back on the ground. I seize my moment and fall on her. I pin her arms above her head and keep my chest and face away from her teeth.

“Dodger! Dodger snap out of it! It’s Scout! You have to listen to me!”

She shoves me off and scampers a few feet away. Her blue hair, tainted brown by the dirt and white by the snow, hangs like a veil across her eyes. “I’m... sorry...” she says in between breaths. There’s a moment- a brief iota of a nanosecond where I thought this was her coming back, but I’m wrong. She lunges right back for me.

I catch her by the neck and slam her up against a nearby tree. My hands grip her throat tight enough to suffocate any human. She struggles mightily against me, but I hold firm. Two years ago, she may have been able to break away, or reach out and grab a hold of me. Now, I’m taller, stronger, and have the reach on her.

“Dodger please! I’m not going to kill you! You have to snap out of it!”

“I can’t! He’s making me do it! I can’t stop!”

“You have to!”

She tries to fight it, but she moves to bite my fingers. They’re too far away for her.

“Fight it!”

Dodger can’t contain herself, and all the pain and torment manifests as a scream. She screams at the moon, at me, at Meg, at the world. I keep her pinned to the tree, trying- or really just hoping- that she will somehow come back. Her eyes grow wide. I shush her, I talk to her, trying to calm her down. It’s not working. Her eyes are still wide as the moon.

“Behind you...” she manages to say.

It’s not in time. A pair of hands grip my shoulders and throw me into a snowbank. I spit out the dirt and snowflakes and check for injuries. I’m okay. I pull myself up to see Hank standing over Dodger. He stares into her eyes again, and in a few seconds she collapses and falls to the ground.

“What did you do?” I shout at him. This gets Hank’s attention. His head whips around and I make sure to dart my eyes away before they catch his.

Meg, Tyler, and the woman with the wavy hair run over. “That was only a demonstration,” says Meg. “I wanted to show you what the numbers here truly are. And now that that’s been made clear, let’s begin.”

Just as the words escape her lips, the first rays of daylight peek out over the horizon. A thin pink band of light appears in the sky to the east. The vampires all shudder and bring a hand over their eyes. It’s dawn, Christmas Day.

“Is there time?” asks Hank.

“There’s time,” says Meg. I’m not so sure. Blisters have already begun to appear on her arms and hands. The three newly converted appear especially affected.

“Meg? What do we do?” Asks Tyler.

“Just turn the princess and we can find shelter.”

All of the vampires sans Dodger turn and face me, fangs bared, eyes the color of embers. It’s funny. I’d imagined this happening throughout the years, a final stand or something similar. It’s come to me both in waking moments and in nightmares, but every time I’d pictured my heart thumping out of its chest, my hands trembling, fumbling over the bow. But I feel calm now. My heart seems to slow, not race, and as I produce the arrow from my sweater and bring the lighter to it, my hands are perfectly still. I remember what my father said two years ago- fear is my greatest advantage.

Their eyes lock on the fire dancing at the end of my arrow. I string my bow and level it at Meg. She bites her lip, and I can’t help but sneer. For the first time, she’s nervous.

“You’re supposed to leave Dodger be,” I say. “Release her, then I’ll join your family.”

“Very well. Release her, Hank.”

Hank closes his eyes for a moment, and the spark of life returns to Dodger. She lets out a moan and flinches for a moment before going limp again.

“I want to talk to her first.” I let the arrow fly before it burns out, making sure it lands harmlessly in the snow, the flame snuffed out. Meg gives me a nod, and she and the others back away from Dodger.