Ancient Blood: The Fallen (6 page)

Three hours later found Arreon and I making our way through the nearly deserted parking lot, and with a glance around, I noted that only one, or two others besides us were venturing out of the club to go home, or elsewhere for the night.

As we reached Arreon's pickup, he pulled open the passenger door, helping me inside, then went around and climbed in behind the steering wheel on the drivers side, slamming the door shut behind him he turned in my direction, penning me beneath his gaze as he muttered, “okay out with it, what the hell’s wrong with you?”

Over the past half year, we’d had few discussions about Dante's leaving, I was however, very much aware of how his leaving had hurt Arreon, and not sure of even where to begin, as I suspected just how he was going to react, I drew a deep breath before whispering, “you think it's possible Dante might be back?”

Silence overwhelmed the interior of the truck before Arreon finally hissed sarcastically, “should I fucking
care if he
is?
”

Then jerking around, he started the pickup, and placing it in reverse backed out of the parking space where, with one swift move, he shoved the gearshift into drive and shot out onto the street.

Wincing in agitation, I wondered why I hadn’t just kept my mouth shut, for I couldn't say with absolute certainty that Dante
was
back, and now the inside of the truck was practically shimmering in the unseen waves of the rage Arreon was nearly boiling within.

A contained fury so volatile it was almost a living, breathing entity as he made his way to the highway, then spent several miles jockeying for position on the busy exchange before nearing our exit.

Roughly stabbing at the blinker with his left hand, he flipped the signal on to indicate his intentions on taking the upcoming exit, letting rip another vulgar curse as the maniac that rode our butt practically forced Arreon to take the off ramp at a much faster pace than the posted speed limit.

Another unflattering curse ripped from his lips as the tail-gating driver never slowed, intent it seemed on either causing him to have an accident, or create one elsewhere as he whipped out from behind us into the next lane at the last minute, blaring his horn the whole time.

A few streets and turns later found Arreon’s pickup bouncing down the quickly deteriorating drive of my small cottage, the huge potholes on its dirt surface causing the truck to shutter and shake, as it nearly jarred our teeth from our heads and a few vile words to slip from Arreon’s mouth.

Finally pulling up in front of a porch that ran the length of the cottage, he shut down the engine with a harsh twist of his wrist. The very action portraying the anger still bubbling just below the surface before he roared, “this is fucking
ridiculous…
since
you won’t move back to the farm, at least let me help you with the damn drive” then gesturing towards the cottage he stated, “and that deteriorating piece of shit too!”

Shaking my head, I pushed open the door of the pickup, very much aware that Arreon was deliberately avoiding any conversation about Dante, and climbed out, pushing it shut with my hip before hurrying around to the driver’s side as Arreon made to open his.

Leaning against the door so he couldn't get it open, I poked my head through the space left by the rolled down window and murmured, “Arreon, we go through this every time, and you
know
I always say no! I need this, I need to do it on my own…”

Leaning forward, I placed my lips against his cheek in a light kiss of goodnight before, breaking the contact between us, I pulled my head back out of the open space, and with as genuine a smile as I could manage, I whispered, “I'll see you tomorrow, okay?” then turning, I made my way onto the porch, and opening the door I stood in it's frame as I waved in his direction, signaling the evening was at an end, and disrupting any further argument he could toss up about the state of my living conditions.

After he'd backed out, and began barreling his way back down the drive, I turned and entered the cottage, kicking the door shut behind me before stilling, as the sensation washed through me that someone else was in the room with me.

Within the count of a heartbeat, I quickly considered the merits of turning and fleeing back outside or staying where I was, and testing the waters of uncertainty, then within the count of that same heartbeat, I made my decision.

I wasn't running from whatever it was, this was my home dammit and
nothing
was going to push me out of it! Drawing a deep breath, I cast my eyes about, a small shiver rippling down my back for the sensation was so strong, I fully expected to see someone peering at me from out of the shadows.

Completing the tour of the room, I inhaled another shuddering breath, for though I’d found nothing that would have caused the initial alarm bells that had gone off within my head, I still felt uncomfortable within the walls of my own home.

Since there was really nothing more I could do to reassure myself, I did the next best thing, as ignoring the sensation was impossible, and opening my mouth I uttered, “this is my house, and who or
whatever
you are, you are welcome to be here, as long as you no longer scare me, if you can't keep from doing that, I demand you leave” then acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary by me talking to the walls, I continued into the room where I kicked off my shoes, letting out a small puff of relieved breath as the sensation finally began to subside, before finally disappearing all together.

Even so, I found I was still a little on edge as I padded my way into the kitchen, and set about preparing a grilled cheese sandwich and warming a bowl of soup, comfort food, for I didn’t feel my stomach could handle much more than that, as the disquieting feeling was still bouncing around inside me, making me slightly nauseous.

When my meal was ready, I carried it into the living room, and after sitting it down on the coffee table, I settled onto the couch and tucked my feet beneath me.

Picking up the bowl, I began dipping the grilled sandwich in the soup, abstractedly eating my supper, unhappily aware that I was intently listening and watching for anything out of the ordinary, and wondering if I hadn't made a huge mistake by not moving back to the Ranch.

* * *

The next morning came much too soon, and I climbed out of bed, weary and exhausted, my outlook on the day already sour.

              Another storm had moved through during the night, and I'd not slept well thanks to the intense bolts of lightening that lit up the room, accompanied by loud claps of thunder that caused the cottage to shudder beneath their violence.

With each loud outburst, I'd found myself flinching, and though I was used to storms, as it was impossible to live in a subtropical climate and not be, the storms of the last few months had been angrier, almost aggressive in their intensity.

As had the storm of last night, for it had taken  ages for the squalls tantrum to end. Finally, after it had played itself out, I'd at last begun to settle enough that I’d thought I might be able to get some much desired sleep.

However, the slow torture of a water drip had insinuated its way into my consciousness, sending me out of bed, and in frustrated pursuit of something to catch the drips as I'd screamed, “
really
?”

Now grumbling over the restless night, I crossed the hard wood floor and entered the bathroom, glancing in the mirror I stared dejectedly at the dark circles beneath my eyes.

Then grimacing at my image, I stuck my tongue out at my reflection and grabbed my hair-brush, jerking it through my hair, afterward pulling the strands into a ponytail, before quickly running a toothbrush across my teeth and then exiting the bathroom.

Snatching a pair of jean shorts from the top of the dresser, I made my way over to the closet, and as I slid into the shorts, I roughly removed a t-shirt from a hanger, leaving the contorted piece of metal swinging on the rod as I slipped the top over my head and arms.               Shimmying the shirt the rest of the way down until it settled over the top of my shorts, I stretched a leg into the bottom of the closet, wiggling my foot around until I found what I sought.

Raking the tennis shoes towards me from the depths within, I stuffed my sock-less feet into the battered footwear, and turned without a backwards glance, as I headed out of the room.

Thirty minutes later, my purse practically turned inside out and after a thorough search of the living room and kitchen for my missing keys, I stood with my hands on my hips blowing out frustrated puffs of breath.

Then, a silvery glint from beneath the coffee table caught my attention, and making a disbelieving face, I made my way over to the table.              

Dropping to my knees, I bent and peered beneath its girth, swearing loud and expressively when I saw the jumble of keys. Then, with the air still blue from the words that had slipped from my lips, I snatched the keys.

Jerking back to my feet, I sprinted across the room, grabbed my purse and practically ran out of the cottage, and as the door slammed shut behind me, I screamed, “you can
have
the damn place,” for the displacement of my keys meant
something
had
been in the cottage, just as I'd thought after I’d returned from the club last night.

Fifteen seconds after climbing in the cab of my pickup, I tore down the drive, only easing off the gas when my teeth snapped together and the truck rattled out a groan of protest as its right tire fell into a pothole with a jarring thud, before bouncing back out onto the dirt packed path with another jarring snap of my teeth, and a coppery taste that immediately flared to life in my mouth from the small laceration where I'd bitten my tongue.

Testing the tender tip against the back of my teeth, I screwed up my face in an effort to still the multitude of unpleasantness that wanted to slip forth. However, I only partially succeeded as two that wouldn’t be denied, slipped from between my lips in a long heartfelt exclamation, then pulling my lips into a grim smile, I swore to myself that come hell or high water, I wasn't going to let anything else ruin the rest of my day.

I was able to keep that promise all the way through the store as I shopped for groceries, my cabinets and refrigerator clearly reflecting their neglect. I even made it through paying too much for the meager amount I'd picked up, but when I made it back to the pickup, all sorts of vile words broke loose when I spotted the flat tire on the rear of my truck!              

The air around me was still smarting from the tongue-lashing it had received before I managed to rein in my temper. Then, calmly I pulled open the passenger door of the truck, placed the bag of groceries on the seat, afterward quietly shutting the door before I turned, and with a well-aimed kick, nailed the offending tire.

However, even in its deflated, pathetic condition, the tire got the last laugh, for the joke was on me when it fought back, giving as good as it got. I found myself uttering a painful yelp as a bolt of lightening shot through my big toe, crawled its way into what felt like every bone in my foot before continuing its assault in a journey up my calf.              

Doubling over, I sucked in air as moisture filled my eyes, then for several seconds I battled the pressing grayness that foretold of encroaching unconsciousness.

Finally, the pain began to subside enough that it allowed me to stand upright again. Several more minutes passed before I was confident enough that neither my toe, nor my foot were broken, as through the sheen of angry tears that still lingered in my eyes, I hobbled around to the back of the truck and prepared to change the tire.

Thirty minutes later, the felonious tire changed, I was slamming the drivers door shut behind me as I muttered, “God, just let me get through this day,” fervently praying that no more mishaps occurred before I was able to get home in one piece.

Thankfully, nothing else went wrong, and I sent up my gratitude as I turned into my drive. Creeping back over the dirt ruts of my driveway, I prayed that my luck continued, and that I managed to get the eggs from point A to point B without breaking them, and winding up with runny, scrambled yolks all over my seat.

It seemed the fates were with me, for my groceries and I both made it inside without another single crack or laceration, and the only visible sign of the rotten trip to town was a cut on my tongue, and the swollen black and purple digit that faintly resembled a big toe!

* * *

An hour later I was poised in front of my canvas, prepared to run my brush across its empty surface the second inspiration struck, when a loud squawk issued from between my lips, for I heard what sounded to be a whisper right next to my ear.

Jerking around, I grabbed a nearby vase and whirled about, eyes wide as they encircled the room, where in the hell had that came from, I wondered, for the room was utterly empty, yet I knew it hadn't just been my imagination, no, not this time, someone had whispered in my damn ear!

Turning I fled from the room, wondering just what in the hell this thing was that was playing with me, for it was a something that I couldn't see, nor touch!

What the whisper had said I had no idea, and to be honest, really didn’t give a damn for the fact was, I wasn't about to ask it to repeat itself. For all I knew it was the same creature of demise that I'd already chanced upon twice now.