Four Centuries (Damned and Cursed Book 7) (36 page)

The talk was simple enough.
 
A few laughs, a touch on the shoulder.
 
Finally, Thomas arrived, and Kate moved from behind her desk to whisk them away.

But before the couple left the lobby, the guest gave something to Olivia.
 
Victoria had to freeze the footage to make it out.
 
It appeared to be a plastic bag, its contents unknown.

As the vampires and mortals showed up for their appointments, he gave a plastic bag to every human.
 
He attempted to do so with the vampires as well, but they refused him.

Victoria watched the footage three times.

Each hand-off went the same way.
 
Casual conversation, sometimes cupped whispering, almost flirting with the ladies.
 
Handshakes and pats on the shoulders with the guys.
 
Then he would hand them a plastic bag.
 
They made sure neither Kate or Michael saw the exchange.

It was only after everyone arrived and the suites were filled that Michael seemed to notice the stranger.
 
He had a brief talk with Kate before approaching the stranger and asking him to leave.

Victoria was very interested in meeting that person.

She watched the footage four more times, studying every nuance, every flinch, every footstep.
 
She guessed the man was mortal, although she couldn't be sure.
 
His movements seemed to match his physical appearance.
 
He didn't move with the balance and grace of an older being, even when unwatched.
 
But that could simply be knowledge of the camera that dictated his behavior.

Victoria reached for her phone and called Greg Walters, the private investigator, one of many employed by her, responsible for keeping an eye on Thomas Sanders.
 
She hadn't talked to him in a few weeks, and hoped that her silence didn't give the impression that she didn't wanted Thomas tracked.

"Hello?"

"Greg, it's Victoria."

"Ah, my favorite client.
 
It's been a while."

"Yeah, listen…."
 
She wanted to skip the small talk.
 
"Tell me you're still keeping track of that little worm Thomas Sanders."

"Yeah, I have people on it.
 
And look, about that.
 
That whole job has already bought me a new motor home.
 
We're still going because you haven't given the red light, but when are we stopping on him?"

"Not anytime soon.
 
Where is he now?"

"Hold on.
 
Let me send a quick text."
 
Greg's phone shifted to speaker while he typed away.
 
"Hey, while I've got you on the phone, tell me.
 
Uh, how do I phrase this?
 
Is there something going on with your…uh, race?"

"What do you mean?"

"You guys aren't planning a takeover or anything?
 
I've had a few missing persons cases tossed my way this week.
 
All of them involving vampires."

Victoria sighed.
 
An uneasiness settled over her.

"We're definitely not taking over."

"Okay.
 
That's all I want to know.
 
I wouldn't make it as some kind of bloody sex slave.
 
I just got the text.
 
The last few nights he's been staying at an abandoned parking garage.
 
I'll send you the address.
 
Partying, feeding, whatever else you all do.
 
The bottom level is underground.
 
Pretty clever."

"Yeah, that Thomas is a wily one.
 
Thanks, Greg.
 
Keep sending those bills."

"Oh, don't worry about that."

Victoria hung up and left the basement.
 
She was surprised to see the night was slowly beginning to take hold.
 
She'd been in front of the computer and on the phone all day.
 
If she confronted Thomas she wouldn't have the sun as an ally.

Not that she needed it.

Zoey let out a deep breath as she slowly pulled up next to the gas pump.
 
She was somewhere in the middle of Indiana, having turned off the interstate to find a convenience store or gas station.
 
Her goal was approaching ever so slowly, after a night of driving.
 
She tried to hold onto that, let it strengthen her.
 
She was going to confront Steven, make him pay for what he did.

She was going to kill him.
 
The
how
of the matter was still unknown, but the end result of her trip was clear in her mind.
 
She was standing over him, watching him bleed to death, with a wooden stake sticking out of his chest as his body burned.

The anger, the strength that she felt threatened to leave.

She'd never been so scared in her life.

The true depths of the mess she was in, that she created for herself, struck her two hours before.
 
She'd ran over something on the interstate, giving her a flat tire.
 
It was the first flat she'd experienced in her short life.
 
She'd never even held a tire-iron before.

It took her ten minutes of searching the Jeep, three of which were spent crying, to even find the jack, secured under the hood.
 
She spent another ten trying to figure out how to remove the spare mounted on the back.
 
No one pulled over to check on her.
 

Her newfound strength did help her.
 
After lifting the Jeep she went to work on the lug-nuts.
 
She didn't know what they used to tighten them, but it took more effort than she would have thought to loosen them.
 
A regular human wouldn't have been able to do it.

Zoey managed to swap the tire, but the inconvenience slapped her awake, forced her to face the truth.
 
She was alone.
 
She was alone in a state she wouldn't have been able to point out on a map a week ago.
 
She had no working phone, didn't even know the phone numbers of anyone to call.
 
That was what contact lists and smartphones were for.
 
Even if she wanted to call Victoria and beg for help, she didn't have the means to do so.

Not that Victoria even wanted to talk to her.

As she sat miserable in her own world in the Jeep, her eyes caught the gas gauge, the reason she was detouring in the first place.
 
The needle barely hovered over empty.
 
Not only was she alone in the middle of nowhere, but she was also nearly out of gas.

A tapping at the window made her jump.
 
A middle—aged man peered at her, concerned.
 
Zoey rolled down the window.
 
He smelled of coffee and tobacco.

"Hey, miss," he said.
 
"Are you okay?"

Zoey eyed her surroundings.
 
The gas station was nearly empty, with only a few scattered cars spread about the pumps.
 
The hour was late.
 
A truck with a trailer sat behind the station, away from everything else.
 
She assumed the big rig was his.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile.
 
"Just tired."

"Well, alright.
 
Listen, be careful out here.
 
Pretty young thing like you shouldn't be out so late."

The line sounded creepy, but he meant nothing by it.
 
She thanked the man, and he nodded a farewell.
 
Opening the glove compartment, she wondered how she would pay for gas.
 
Victoria's credit cards sat there, mocking her.

"You should have taken a damn airplane," she scolded herself.
 
"It would have been two hours.
 
No sun at all."

The idea sounded so clever, so good, but totally impractical.
 
She left Victoria's house in a hurry, with only a sliver of night remaining.
 
She didn't have the time to browse for a flight, buy a ticket, or drive to the airport.

Her mind reached beyond the problem currently staring at her.
 
It was nearly four in the morning.
 
She didn't have much darkness left.
 
After somehow getting gas, she would have to find shelter.
 
She wasn't going to make it to Illinois before the sun came up.
 
Not even close.

"Relax, Zoey," she told herself.
 
"One thing at a time."

She stared at the phone to help ease her spirits.
 
Despite everything that had happened, everything that had gone wrong, from sleeping under the Jeep to being without gas at a gas station, the phone was doing exactly what Kevin said it would.
 
Slowly, with each passing hour of travel, the map on the phone was changing.
 
It no longer showed a map of the country, but instead resembled something she'd find on the Internet.
 
A map of Indiana and Illinois, with routes and streets, and the now-familiar flashing light.

Zoey was getting closer.
 
She would find Steven.
 
She just needed gas.

Opening the driver's door, she glanced at the few others filling their own vehicles.
 
Given the hour, she wasn't surprised many of them didn't look like they wanted to socialize.
 
She wasn't above asking for help, begging for gas money.
 
It was only two short years ago, three months removed from their sixteenth birthdays, that Kylie and Zoey were stranded in another town, on their way home from a Halloween party.
 
Zoey approached anyone she could, asking for help getting home.
 
She tried a mix of being adorable and upset, which wasn't far from the truth.
 
She always wanted to believe it was the goodness in people's hearts, and not her skills at flirting, which helped them get home.

She'd been driving all night, and was sure she looked it.
 
A glance in the rear-view mirror held a surprise.
 
She actually still had a glow to her.
 
Her cheeks were flush, her hair bouncy.
 
At least she wouldn't look like zombie, shuffling slowly to the first person she saw.

"You go, you vampire," she whispered.

She reached across the seat to close the glove compartment, and saw the credit cards once again.
 
Plucking one at random with her fingers, she glanced between the card and the gas pump.
 
What was the worst that could happen if she tried it?
 
Irrational thoughts attacked her.
 
Police could swarm out of nowhere.
 
Helicopters might fly overhead, or loud sirens would go off.

"Stop being stupid," she told herself.

The worst thing that would happen is the card wouldn't go through, and she'd be back to her original plan.

She swiped the card and hoped for the best.
 
The
declined
or
try again
message she was expecting didn't greet her.
 
The pump told her to wait, and then prompted her to select her gas.

Zoey broke into a small smile.
 
It was a minor win, but a win all the same.

It simply wasn't possible that, in nearly twenty-four hours, Victoria hadn't noticed Zoey was gone.
 
It was possible she didn't notice her credit cards were gone, and didn't cancel them.

But Zoey didn't believe that.
 
Victoria was too smart.

"Thank you," she said.

She had new life in her stride after she filled the Jeep and headed for the store.
 
If the cards were still working she figured it would be okay to spend the day in a hotel.
 
She had to remember to make a list of the few things she bought.
 
Somehow, someway, she would pay Victoria back.

The man behind the counter poked at a smartphone, and didn't look up even when Zoey approached.

"Excuse me?" she said.

He looked up, and then she had his attention.
 
Zoey was no longer frail, no longer hid in her basement crying and moping.
 
She could turn heads once again, even more so than before.

"Hi," she said, flashing her brightest smile.
 
"Is there a hotel I can stay at around here?"

She felt silly as soon as she asked the question.
 
There was a GPS in the Jeep, capable of leading her anywhere.

The attendant gave her directions to a hotel a few blocks away, adding some flirting for good measure.
 
She found the hotel without incident, and shoved everything in the back of the Jeep into her bag.
 
She was down to two bottles of blood.
 
Two bottles of blood to last her another day.

Then she'd be without a drop.

The hotel lobby was empty.
 
She hoped checking in would be as easy as buying gas.
 
Paranoia hovered nearby as she approached the desk.
 
She made sure she knew every exit, in case she had to run.
 
A camera was in the corner, down the hall leading to the bathrooms and snack machines.
 
She kept her head low, as if she were an international criminal.

Zoey checked in with no issues.
 
She even signed her own name while using Victoria's card.
 
The woman behind the desk seemed to be more interested in Zoey herself than any forms she was filling out.
 
She guessed not many teenagers checked into their hotel carrying a single bag over their shoulder.