CHAPTER NINE
The Humvee was as they'd left it, doors open, lights on. Mike's keys sat in the ignition, luggage untouched in one of the back seats. He got Alyxandra buckled in and retrieved her bag of crayons from the ground. When he handed them to her, she stared at them helplessly.
"They're laced with silver." He told her.
She frowned at him, unsure if that was supposed to mean something significant.
"You think Garou like to eat yellow crayons, right? So... I lace them with silver. You feed the big bad nasty, and the silver poisons him. Goodbye werewolf." He explained hurriedly.
She replaced the bag in the glove compartment. "If you say so, but I don't get the crayon thing. Why would you want to hurt other werewolves, anyway? And why did they attack us? Because I'm a vampire?"
"No... they were Black Spiral Dancers. They'd have attacked me with or without you here. They're enemies. And I wouldn't let you try and feed a laced crayon to a good guy."
"And these 'bad guys' just let me shove a crayon in their mouth? I'm supposed to believe that?" She looked him in the eye to show she wasn't buying it.
"No, you use a slingshot."
She laughed. The whole idea was too absurd.
"You're a damned good shot," he grinned.
He seemed sincere enough, but she couldn't imagine herself shooting anything but her own foot with a slingshot.
He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes again, his face serious. "Your eyes are still dilated. Did you feed on him? Can you remember?"
"Can we please get out of here?" Alyxandra shivered, thinking of the howls they had heard. There were more of the Spiral Dancers out there and she didn't want to make their acquaintance.
"Yeah, we should hurry." He shut her door and all but ran to the driver's side after prying her hand from his shirt. She'd been clinging to him, and hadn't realized that she'd still been holding on. Within seconds they were on the highway.
"I did bite him." Alyxandra whispered, resting her head against the window.
"Did you take a lot? Lupine blood isn't a good idea."
"Well, I didn't know that," she snapped. "I don't know how to fight. The only thing I knew to do was bite him. I don't know how much I took though; he wasn't very accommodating."
Mike ignored her temper. "You might have frenzied without it, but it's probably why you did. You'll be close to doing it again until his blood's out of your system. Going to be paranoid too. It's kind of like a drug to Kindred. You may have some tolerance built up to it, but I don't know. You bite me sometimes, but you never take more than a taste. It's..." he shrugged, "foreplay."
She made a disgusted face, "I wouldn't feed on you."
"You've never fed on me."
"How far do we have to go? I don't think I can sit still like this for long." She fidgeted in her seat as if to prove her point. "My head feels full. It's not right; I don't like it."
"Albuquerque is less than two hours away. Can you hold on that long? I don't think they'll follow us that far, but if they do, they're not going to track us down in the city."
She grimaced, but nodded her head. It was going to be a long two hours.
"This sucks!" She cried out, writhing in her seat. She wanted claws. She wanted to be able to drive them into something, anything, and feel them causing destruction. "I feel like there's something inside me trying to rip its way out."
"It's your beast," he said simply, as if it explained everything.
Alyxandra wanted to kick him, but the damned console between their seats prevented her access. She knew she had no reason to be angry with him, but she was angry just the same, and there was nobody else to focus it on.
A bobtail thundered past them, blowing its horn. She flinched back from the window, gasping.
"It's loud," she screamed. "And you drive like an old lady."
"You need to calm down, hun. I'm going the speed limit."
She pressed her hands to her ears to dull the sound. Everything was too much; too loud, too bright, everything too real. Even the sensation of her clothing touching her seemed exaggerated. She gasped for a breath, realizing she hadn't been breathing.
Turning her head towards Mike, her eyes widened. He was glowing.
"You're pink," she told him, confused by what she was seeing.
"Huh?" He glanced at her.
"You're glowing pink," she insisted, her tone accusing. "What are you doing?"
He gave her a worried look before turning his attention back to the road. "I'm not doing anything, babe."
"Yes, you are." She growled impatiently, "People aren't supposed to... glow. It's pink, all around you. There are other colors mixed in too. There's blue and yellow. Lots of gold. It's like that metaphysical crap. You know, like an aura or something."
"Makes sense," Mike sounded infuriatingly unconcerned.
She leaned over the console, resting her arm across the notebook computer seated there. She opened her mouth to chew him out, but sucked in a breath instead. Her eyes widened and the lights around her became more painful to her eyes.
Mike sat with the notebook on his knee, typing in the information needed to begin tracking the BMW with the LoJack system that was installed. In a matter of seconds, he'd know precisely where Alyxandra was.
Alyxandra jerked her arm away from the notebook. She held her arms before herself, afraid to touch anything. Gingerly, she reached over and placed her hand over the computer again. Nothing happened.
She could see Mike darting searching glances in her direction, but she chose to ignore him for the moment. Something had happened when she'd touched that computer. She needed to find something else. The crayons! Maybe it would happen again if she touched them. She pulled the glove compartment open. Sitting beside the bag of crayons was the slingshot that Mike had mentioned. She would test that instead.
The slingshot wasn't anything like the little leather toys she'd seen as a kid. This one was larger and primarily made of steel wrapped in rubber. With a deep breath she reached in and picked it up.
The werewolf writhed in agony at her feet, dying. It was reverting back to its human form as it ripped open its own throat, trying to remove the poison lodged inside. Thick foam flowed from its gaping jaws, bloody from when its uncontrolled snapping had severed its own tongue.
She tossed the slingshot back into the glove compartment and closed the door with a shaking hand. She gulped, feeling sick.
"You OK, hun?"
She shook her head, irritated by the stupid question. Of course she wasn't OK.
He reached his arm out to her, but she didn't want his comfort. She grabbed his arm to push him away.
His eyes were terribly sad. He didn't cry, hadn't cried, but his emotions were plain on his face. He grieved. She was relieved though, to see that he only mourned. There was no sign of guilt in his features. Nobody blamed him for Verena's death. He shouldn't feel responsible.
Her breath caught. This was Mike's memory, but it was her memory as well and she saw it through her own eyes. It was as though she were experiencing it for the first time, but she knew it belonged to her as much as it did to him.
Alyxandra wondered briefly if she should feel some guilt herself, but she did not. She grieved too, for the loss of more than just a sister. Verena had been her other half, her twin. But she felt no anger at her sister's death. She had shed few tears, even when the wounds of her loss were fresh, but now she felt little. After all, did she not see her sister's face every time she looked in the mirror? Could she not still speak to her, converse inside her head? True, she wouldn't be able to touch her again, but Verena had never been much for physical contact anyway. She'd be missed, but Alyxandra would go on without her. She'd started this other life without her sister, she could continue it.
She remembered the rage burning in her brother-in-law's eyes that night. But now, when he glanced over at her briefly, there was nothing of that left. He'd never hated her. Never felt much of anything for her, really. He'd tolerated her, been amused by her at times, and had accepted her in his life because she was in Verena's life. But that night... he'd wanted to hurt her. She couldn't remember what had happened. That happened sometimes, things would vanish from her mind. Sometimes she didn't want to remember, and her mind was often willing to oblige her. She had tried to remember, thinking it should be important to remember, but nothing came to her. She could only remember him, taken by his Rage, coming at her in his terrible Crinos form, all teeth and claws. He'd wanted to kill her, and she'd stood there unflinching. But she was still alive. Verena was the one who had died that night, thrusting her sister out of the way, and taking the damage from her husband that had been meant for her sister. She'd died quickly.
Alyxandra dug her nails into Mike's flesh and bared her fangs at him, hissing. He gripped her wrist firmly and took his eyes off the road to watch her face, his own face full of confusion and worry behind the pink haze that surrounded him.
Alyxandra toyed with the amethyst pendant that rested between her breasts. It had belonged to Verena. She had always worn it, and it had been as much a part of her as her wild, free nature. And now, she knew she looked more like her sister than herself. Even though they'd been twins, people had always been able to tell them apart. They were so different in their manners that it had seemed to mark them physically. But she knew now, as he looked up at her again, that he would see his wife.
He knew Verena was dead of course, knew who he was seeing. But he didn't resist as she came to sit beside him and wrap her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. She even smelled like Verena, but he could tell the difference.
"You could be mine," she told him. He didn't respond.
She sighed and closed her eyes, resting against him. She'd never thought about him much. Had never desired him. She enjoyed men, though she had little experience with them. She enjoyed teasing, but the idea of going further than that intimidated her. Her sister hadn't had such reservations. But Verena was gone, and she'd left this gentle wolf behind. Alyxandra didn't want him to be gentle. But she would take him. Thought she could love him. He felt good to her, in her arms. He didn't intimidate her, as so many others did. She felt safe. She didn't always enjoy feeling safe, but in this respect, it was comforting. She thought she could give herself to him, and be happy.
It never occurred to her to wonder if she could make him happy.
"Puppy?" She whispered, her own name for him, not Verena's.
And then he was kissing her, and her cold body was on fire, the heat of his warming her. She threaded her fingers into his hair and clung to him. He crushed her body to his. She didn't stop to consider that she didn't know what she was doing; he knew. It was enough. He tasted good. And he was so warm, so alive.
An anguished growl ripped from his throat as he kissed her, and her body tingled at the sound, aroused. He was hungry for this, and she wasn't above taking advantage. She knew his passion could fade as quickly as it had come on and push her away from him, rejecting her. She had to act now.
She pulled her face away from his, harder to do than she would have thought. He tried to pull her back to him, but she resisted, and looked into his eyes. They were feverish. She felt some power stir inside her, and she commanded him, "Mine."
He only nodded, and she surrendered herself to him, allowing him to pull her back down against him. She let herself be lost in his arms.
She moaned, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. She wanted him. She wanted to rip his heart out and she wanted to kiss him. She didn't care which order she did it in. Her fingernails dug deeper into his arm, but he showed no sign of feeling any pain. She growled. It was an unimpressive threat, but it was all she had.
"Stop the truck," she growled again.
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" He asked, his voice tight. His face was still concerned, but he was losing patience.
"I want to ride back there," she spat, gesturing towards the BMW being towed behind them.
He obeyed, pulling the truck over to the shoulder and breaking more sharply than necessary.
She hopped out before the truck could stop completely and slammed the door behind her. She would have liked to be able to say she stalked her way to the car, but in reality it was more of a fast paced limp. Her leg burned.
She pulled her set of keys from her pocket, nearly dropping her phone in the process, and unlocked the back door. With a quick glare towards the back of Mike's head – she was a little relieved to see he no longer glowed – she yanked the door open and threw herself across the backseat. He didn't even wait for her to close the door behind her before he hit the gas again. The forward motion of the car pulled the door shut.
She fumed and popped her head over the front seat to take a look at him. She met his eyes in his rear view mirror. His jaw was set, angry.
She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed.
"Yes?" He spoke into the phone, after picking up his end.
"Why are you mad at me?" She asked him. He had no right to be mad at her. She hadn't done anything wrong. He was the one who... well, she was the one who should be angry. Not him!
"I'm not mad at you."
"Yes you are."
"I'm frustrated, not mad." He said, eying her from the mirror. "You need to calm down."
"I'm perfectly calm!" She hissed into the phone, outraged. "Stop looking at me."
She flipped the phone closed and watched him. Five minutes passed, and he didn't look into the mirror again. She opened the phone and dialed.
"Alyx..." he sighed into the phone. "I'm tired. I don't want to fight with you."
"You won't even look at me," she spoke in a breathy whisper. "Feeling guilty?"
"Guilty for what? You told me to stop looking at you." She could see his jaw clench in the mirror.
She wanted to tell him everything, but she wasn't sure how she felt about it. She was angry; she understood that. She just wasn't sure why she was angry. A number of reasons presented themselves as obvious choices, but she didn't like any of them. Besides, more strongly than anger, she felt alone. She wanted to be comforted. She wanted him.
"You could come back here and sit with me," she offered, her tone suddenly mellow. She could see him looking at her in the mirror again, his brow furrowed.
"Can't drive from back there."
"Oh yeah..." She slumped back in her seat. "I don't want you anyway."
"Are you going to tell me what you're upset about?" He asked calmly.
"Is there anything not to be upset about? If my life gets any more interesting, maybe you can kill me too!" She snapped the phone shut and lay down.
Her phone rang. She threw it against the front windshield, where it bounced unharmed into the front seat. The truck ahead slowed immediately and she was tossed against the front seat. She sat up and watched as he pulled over and stopped abruptly, then stepped out of the truck. His eyebrows were pulled down over narrowed eyes, his jaw set, and hands clenched. His shoulders were hunched forward slightly, giving him an intimidating pose.
She slammed her hand down over the door lock and scrambled to the other side of the car, panting in fear. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, then sat down, glowering at her. She pressed herself against the opposite door, staring at him warily.
He watched her, his glare turning to surprised confusion, then turning angry again. He very nearly roared at her, "You think I'm going to hurt you?"
She shook her head slightly, but didn't relax her pose. "You look like you'd like to."
"I'd like to shake you and put you over my knee. Aside from the obvious, what is wrong with you? I'm used to not knowing what the hell you're thinking. I can handle that. What I want to know is why you're acting like you want to rip my head off." He leaned toward her, growling.
She dropped down to her knees on the seat and got in his face, glaring back at him. But it was with a soft voice that she spoke. "You said the blood would make me act funny."
"Bullshit," he said. "This isn't the blood."
She sat back and composed herself with a deep breath. "You're right, I'm pissed off. Why didn't you tell me you killed my sister?"
His eyes widened slightly, the anger draining from his suddenly paling face. "You remembered something?"
"No, I saw something." She crossed her arms and waited for his excuses.
"It was an accident, baby." He nearly whispered.
She rolled her eyes. "I know that. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I've been trying my best not to freak you out about anything. You don't trust me now; how was that going to look? You'd still be trying to run away from me."
"Maybe..." She said grudgingly. "I'm trying to trust you. Don't lie to me."
"I didn't lie to you. I omitted."
"Omit something like that again, and you'll wake up without that goatee, mustache, and one of your eyebrows."
"Fair enough..." he frowned. "We good now?"
"I still feel pissed off. I just don't know why." She peered at him, her eyes turning curious. "Kind of a rip off for a first kiss. You didn't even touch me."
"Lost me again."
She grinned and shrugged.
--
The night was still young when they reached Albuquerque's city limits. There was enough time, barely, for them to still reach Flagstaff – so long as Mike was willing to risk a speeding ticket – but Alyxandra was still restless and was having trouble sitting still for so long.
The short distance they'd traveled had taken quite a bit longer than it should have. Every half hour or so, Alyxandra had felt the need to get out of the car and stretch her legs. The excuses she'd given Mike so that he'd pull over had gotten ridiculous enough that he'd eventually agreed to stop every so many miles without her having to ask. It kept her from insisting she needed to use the bathroom, and it kept him from throttling her.
"I hate sauerkraut," Mike grumbled to himself when they passed the sign welcoming them into the city. Alyxandra waited for him to explain, but he kept further odd opinions to himself.
He pulled into the underground parking lot of a hotel that was at least as upscale as the one she'd stayed at in Amarillo, and at least four times as large. It was positioned in the heart of the city, surrounded by hotels advertising lesser room rates than she imagined this grand hotel offered.
"Fancy," she commented. "Got money to burn, huh?"
"We're comfortable," he replied absently as he pulled their bags – she'd claimed one of his now that she had something to pack – from the back of the truck.
"Got me a rich guard dog. Woo for me!" She giggled. "So what do I do?"
"Get into trouble," he opened one of the bags and pulled out a long, dark grey coat.
"Thanks. But I assume I had to drop out of college? I never went back or anything? I don't work? There's got to be something I do."
He handed her the coat and grinned. "No, you mostly just get into trouble and keep me busy getting you out of trouble. Sometimes you mix things up and get me into trouble instead. You never went back to school... I'd hate to see how that would turn out. Would you ghoul the teachers or just eat them? And the students who scored better than you? I'd probably have to enroll just to keep an eye on you."
"Tyrant." She looked at the coat and frowned. "It's hot. What am I supposed to do with this?"
"It'll cover your leg up," he took the coat from her again and helped her into it. It came down to below her knees and hid the rip in her jeans perfectly, as well as the bloody punctures. It was also a number of sizes too large, making it an awkward fit, and the sleeves were far too long for her arms. It would have to do; she only had to wear it until they reached their hotel room.
"I'm sorry if I've been annoying. I'm kind of hyper." She bounced on the balls of her feet and giggled again.
"I noticed," he chuckled. "But at least you're not trying to bite my head off anymore. You'll be fine. Grab that first aid kit, will ya?"
Alyxandra took the red medical kit warily, hoping fervently that vampires didn't require stitches.
Gathering the other bags in one hand, Mike wrapped his free arm around Alyxandra's waist. She leaned into him and offered a pleased smile as he helped her limp to the elevator and then up to the lobby. She could have managed on her own, but she was happy to accept his help.
She didn't pay much attention as Mike checked them in. The lobby of the hotel was more like that of a corporate headquarters than any hotel she'd seen before. She glanced around and wondered if she'd happen upon another of her kind here as well, and wondered with a grin what one would think, seeing her with a werewolf on her arm.
She turned around sharply to face the front desk at hearing Mike request a double. "Single," she snapped at one of the desk clerks.
The clerk gave Mike a questioning look and he shrugged. Alyxandra glared at both of them.
--
"Strip," Mike told Alyxandra as soon as they reached their room.
She gaped at him. "When I said I wanted a single, I didn't mean..."
He frowned at her. "I want to clean your leg."
"Oh." She would have blushed if she knew how. And then she'd have blushed again when he helped her out of her jeans.
He placed a towel under her leg and uncapped a bottle of peroxide from the first aid kit.
"This is probably going to sting," he warned before tipping the bottle over her wounds.
She sucked in a breath as soon as the liquid hit, but there was very little discomfort. Each puncture bubbled and foamed as the peroxide filled them.
"Doesn't look so bad," Mike commented after patting her leg dry with another towel. He prodded at her leg, which caused more discomfort than the peroxide, but deemed the wounds minor enough that they wouldn't need further attention.
"I'm never going to get to sleep." Alyxandra scooted herself closer to Mike and he put an arm around her.
"It's still early." He kissed the top of her head and she grinned, feeling giddy. "But I think we're both probably more tired than we feel. I'm going to shower."
She nodded, and then the next thing she knew, she was drowsily opening her eyes as Mike climbed into bed.
She stretched, then paused, looking down at herself. She shot Mike a startled look. "You undressed me."
"You were asleep, babe. I only took your shirt off so you'd be more comfortable. Don't worry, I was a good boy."
"Great, I sleep through you taking my clothes off, but I wake up as soon as you lie down next to me." She grabbed the teeshirt he'd given her and pulled it over her head, feeling too exposed in just her underwear. She unclasped her bra and slid it out from under the shirt.
"I'm a gentleman," he mumbled around a yawn.
"Lech," she rolled her eyes and slipped under the covers beside him.
He grinned, but didn't defend his innocence.
She rolled over towards him and rested her head on his shoulder, pulling her body up close to his. "You're warm," she murmured and closed her eyes.
He pulled her closer and kissed her forehead, but she was already asleep.
--
Mike drifted slowly awake and stretched, or at least attempted to do so. Alyxandra still slept pressed against him, her head resting on his shoulder and an arm curled over his chest. He gently rolled her limp form away, freeing himself. He wasn't afraid to wake her, it was nearly impossible to do so. It was often said of the dead that they appeared merely to be sleeping. For Alyxandra, her sleeping form appeared to be dead. She was cool to the touch and unless caught in a dream, she did not stir. She may have denied it, most likely vehemently, but she truly did sleep like the dead.
Sleeping with a corpse in his arms didn't disturb Mike. If it ever had, he couldn't remember feeling that way. At least she didn't snore, nor complain when he did.
He brushed her hair from her face and rested his fingers lightly against her cheek as he watched her sleep. She felt alive, her deathly pale, but soft skin warming slightly beneath his touch. He traced along her jawline with his fingertips and then brushed them lightly over her lips. It had been nearly a week since he'd kissed those lips, which he thought, was probably a record for them. They'd never been apart for more than a few nights; not since the day they met.
He buried his nose into her hair and took a deep breath. The faint smell of death was there, but mostly there was just the pleasant scent of her, comforting and familiar. He growled. She hadn't showered yet, so he could also smell the scent of the werewolf she'd killed. He needed to do something about that...
With a heavy sigh, he dragged his tired ass out of bed. It was late afternoon and he had a few phone calls to make. Certainly Albuquerque had a Glass Walker presence that could take out the pack infesting the state park. If not, there would likely be another tribe willing to do the honors.