Bag of Blood - Vampire Mystery Romance (10 page)

"Is this safe?" she was forced to double the strength of her hold when The Beast lurched forward, burying her face in her sister's back. It was absolutely
freezing,
even underneath the layers she had added before going out, her knit hat covering her ears underneath the helmet.
Maybe if I keep my eyes closed I won't puke all over her,
Lena hoped miserably. She could feel every turn shaking her insides viciously.
How does she
stand
this?
She knew it was only due to Vanessa's oversized goggles that the older girl could see anything at all.

Finally,
finally
parking in front of a restaurant, she practically fell off the vehicle. "Ugh! Remind me to
never
do that again!" she fumed. The two entered the nondescript-looking restaurant appearing more like half-drowned rats then like human beings. The two were assisted to a table, their shoes squishing loudly on the tile floor, by a kind-looking waitress, who took their drink orders immediately and left them to decide on their food.

"I've never been here before," Lena muttered, flicking through the pages of her menu. It was no Howie's, that was for sure. The food looked bland and characterless, but from the kitchen wafted a fairly enticing scent. If nothing else, it was warm. Lena decided on some apricot glazed chicken with a spinach salad, wanting to up her iron count before the first December donation in a few days.

"So how you holding up?" Vanessa asked seriously, pushing her sodden hair from her eyes. Lena eyed her sister.

"Sis, not to be rude, but I've been stuck home alone for a really,
really
long time. A girl at my school was murdered, a guy I've known for years is "missing", my two best friends are dating and I'm the third wheel, I've been stressing about my father who had a heart attack and went into surgery who I am still not allowed to visit, and I had to spend Thanksgiving day completely by myself eating a Lean Cuisine. No, I'm not exactly peaches and roses at the moment."

Vanessa frowned hearing Lena's rant. "Jeez!" she muttered. "Lena, it hasn't been easy for any of us, you know; it's not all about
you
. Think of dad;
he
had to spend Thanksgiving in crippling pain while doctors continuously woke him up to make him walk laps around the building. You think you'd be doing so hot if you had
your
ribs and sternum snapped open and a piece of metal shoved into your heart?"

Lena blanched.
Daddy…
Theoretically, she knew what had happened to her father during the surgery. However, she had not experienced the full reality of the situation, being too young to be allowed as a visitor in the emergency rooms.

"They make him walk laps?" she asked, surprised.

"Yeah," Vanessa replied. "The
day after
his surgery the nurses dragged him out of bed. They go really slowly around the floor, one of them pushing a wheelchair behind him and the other holding on to him just in case."

"Why do they do that?" Lena had never heard of such a thing.

"It's somewhat new," Vanessa explained, smiling at the waitress as she dropped off their drinks and took their orders. "They learned that lying in bed actually slows down the recovery process; immediate, slow exercise jump-starts it. It helps him heal a little faster."

Lena nodded, liking the idea of
healing faster.
She sipped her milk meditatively before glaring at Vanessa's soda, wanting it.

"So, a boy went missing?" Vanessa asked, chewing on the tip of her straw. "Who? Anyone I know?"

"Yeah," Lena replied. "Gabriel." She had complained many times of the vampire's antics to her family; to be honest, they had probably gotten quite annoyed with it all. "He's been missing for over a week now."

This clearly startled her sister. "Wow… another girl from the area's been missing, too. Some redhead; she's in her twenties so they couldn't declare her "missing" for a while. But she's been gone for over a week, too."

Lena shook her head, incredulous. This was
crazy.
"How do you know this?"

"Newspaper," her sister replied. "You get bored quickly in the waiting room."

A woman's voice calling nearby interrupted them. "Leslie! It's your turn to clean the bathrooms!"

To Lena's absolute astonishment, Leslie Metcalf slowly walked by her table, looking gloomy and wearing the uniform of the staff at the restaurant.

"Alright, alright!" she shouted back to whom Lena could only assume was her boss. The maroon-haired vampire cursed underneath her breath and, grabbing a mop from the supply closet, entered into the back bathroom.

"What's the matter with you?" Vanessa asked as their waitress brought them their food. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I might have," Lena replied ominously as her salad was set next to her chicken plate. "I need to go wash up." Hustling from her seat, she followed Leslie into the bathroom. "I'm working, I'm working!" the girl shouted, assuming it was her boss behind her, but turned instead to face Lena.

"What are you doing here?"

"Eating," Lena replied. She squeezed soap onto her hands, scrubbing slowly. She tried the same words Vanessa had used to get her to open up. "How are you holding up?"

"Oh, just swell," Leslie hissed bitterly. "
Marvelous
. My parents can't "deal" with me anymore after I got so hungry I practically bit the throat out of some girl. I couldn't help it; I was
starving!
Nobody understands how hungry I can get; not even other vampires." Dunking the mop into a bucket of dingy-looking water, she scrubbed at the floor, the thick muscles in her arms showing clearly with her effort. "And now my cousin, who may be a jerk but who did help me out a lot, has now disappeared off the face of the planet."

"Do you… know where he might be?" Lena asked. Leslie threw the mop to the floor, looking disgusted.

"Are you
nuts
?" Lena considered mentioning a certain phrase about the pot and the kettle, but figured it was best to keep her mouth shut if she wanted answers. Leslie continued, "Don't you think if I knew where he was, I'd go drag his sorry butt out of whatever hole he managed to dig himself into? He's not perfect, but he's a good guy; he gave me more of your blood."

"He did?" Lena was surprised, recalling how ravenous Gabriel was the last time she had seen him. It had looked like he'd drink the whole half-pint and still have room for more. Leslie picked the mop back up and began once more to clean.

"Yeah. But why should you believe me? Everybody's saying I killed him. Why would I? Me and him—we don't really like each other, but we
get
each other. His parents don't
get
him; they just baby him, afraid somebody'll try to hurt him again. Well, looks like somebody did."

"Again?" Lena was confused.

"Duh! When he was born there were people hammering at the door wanting to shove him in a fire or stake him through his heart or whatever. His mom really got hurt trying to protect him. Did you know they ripped her eyeball right out of the socket?"

Lena swayed slightly on the spot, feeling sick. Leslie rolled her eyes. "Doesn't matter. Cops have my prints to compare it to any evidence if any turns up. Said it wasn't
my
prints on the dead girls, so at least I'm in the clear on that."

Lena blinked slowly. "They have prints on the dead girls?"

Leslie snorted. "You don't watch many detective shows, do you? There's
always
evidence." She began spraying cleaning liquids onto the mirrors, scrubbing them with vigor using the rough brown paper towels.

"Well, then why haven't they caught the killer yet?" Lena's voice rose in pitch. With incriminating evidence like
that
, the monster should be behind bars as they spoke!

"You really are dumb, huh? But I guess I'd expect that from a girl who charges into a bathroom behind a vampire who once bit her
while in a bathroom
. How's the neck?" she grinned, then added "they can't take the fingerprints of every person who lives in Philadelphia, or even everybody who goes to the school. They need evidence and a warrant first. It's just not practical."

Lena nodded slowly. It made sense, but something didn't hold up.

"So if you didn't take him, and you don't think he just ran off, what
do
you think happened?"

"I don't know for sure," sighed Leslie, taking a can of powder into the stalls, armed with a scrub brush. "But I'd check out that green-eyed boyfriend of yours if you really want answers."

Lena's heart skipped a beat. "Elliot's not my boyfriend. What are you talking about?"

"He's a vampire. He's over six feet tall." Leslie ticked off on her fingers.

"So are you!" Lena insisted. "So are most of the vampires at our school!" Leslie ignored her outburst. "Do
you
know where he was during any of the attacks? Because let me tell you, on the first day I came to school when that chick was killed, he was supposed to take me on a tour. He was a no-show. And on Halloween when that other girl died? He disappeared off with Gabriel when I tried to make them trick-or-treat with me. He also seemed a
little
too eager not to talk about my cousin with me when he drove me home that day. Things add up, blondie." She stuck her scrub-brush into the toilet, swirling it around fast enough to send droplets of water flying everywhere.

"He told me he
tried
to talk to you about Gabriel, and you wouldn't listen!" Lena insisted, her heart sinking when she realized that she had no proof to defend against the other accusations.

"That just makes it his word against mine, doesn't it, then?" Leslie asked darkly. "I don't really care what you believe. I'd just watch my back a little more; have you noticed the way he stares at you? His eyes look awfully hungry." Lena felt goose bumps cause the hair on her arms to rise, and she began backing towards the door. Leslie laughed and the sound echoed off the tiles, the sound was so deep and foreign that Lena yanked the door open and hustled back to her sister, who was nibbling at the chicken off Lena's plate.

"Don't be mad!" Vanessa insisted when Lena opened her mouth. "You were in there forever and it was getting cold."

Lena sank into her chair, pressing a hand to her pounding heart. Her phone jangled, and she reached down her shirt to tug it from her cleavage, where she had stored it to protect it from the rain. Vanessa's must have at the same time, because she too took hers out from her own "secret compartment".

On both of their phones was a text message from their mother:
Your dad will be allowed to come home next week.

December 18

Winter break: two weeks off from school for the end and beginning of the yearly holidays. Lena's father had officially been home from the hospital for over two weeks now. The first day of his return, she had had to sit on her hands to resist the urge to throw him into the largest hug imaginable. What she had noticed right away, however, were his
moods
.

"Just leave me alone!" he would snarl at her when she attempted to fuss over him, rubbing his IV sores with the lotion she used on her own track marks, or when she tried to go over the heart-healthy recipes his doctor had sent to them. "I want to be by myself!" Of course, less than an hour later he would be calling for her, asking for help sitting up, or just leaning his head on her shoulder. Vanessa and their mother seemed to be experiencing the same things with him, but when she tried to bring it up, her mother simply hushed her. When she persisted questioning the matter, a file from the hospital was tossed at her. The highlighted portion of it read:

Patients recovering from invasive surgery often find themselves struggling with excessive depression. This, combined with the need for pride and independence, contrasts sharply with their physical need to be cared for by others. Rapid mood swings are to be expected.

It made sense, but Lena still found herself struggling to have patience with his anger followed by wanting her attention, when all she wanted was to just talk and be friends like they used to. It was difficult sympathizing when she really
didn't
know what he was going through. So there was no surprise when Lena had mixed feelings come her mother's next request.

"Please, Lena, will you stay with your father during his walk today?" Lena was sitting cross-legged on her mother's bed, basking in the attention her mother was paying to her. They had talked about school and grades, and all the things they had missed while her mother was in crazy work mode. She had kept the topic light, steering it away from the dead and the missing, wanting only to have some fun mom time.

"What? What would we do?" She had planned on spending her day doing her laundry and then reading while eating snacks. This didn't fit in her plans at all.

Her mother, who was going through her own overflowing laundry basket separating the jeans and towels from the rest of the pile, straightened up, pushing strands of brown hair from her eyes. "I don't know Hun, take him for a walk. Drive him to a park and then walk on the grass, take a lunch, why don't you?"

Lena pointed to the window. "The ground is covered in snow. I don't think the cold would be good for a guy recovering from surgery."

Hazel eyes flashed with frustration. "Lena! I need some time to
myself.
I want the house
empty.
I want to relax. I'm fairly certain I've been averaging on four hours of sleep a night for several months now, and the time I've been completely alone is limited to how long I can spend in a bathroom stall.
Please
give me this break." Hearing the begging in her mother's tone, Lena gave in. When a woman was right, she was right.

Entering into the kitchen, she filled her old lunch bag with the healthy leftovers from the past few meals. Being a bit of a junk food lover, the diet of strictly flavorless mush was not boding well for her mood; she figured with a bit of poking around on the internet she
might
be able to find food acceptable for her father to eat that still tasted nice. But not now.
Now
she had to walk out in a freaking
blizzard
and…

Well, ok
, Lena admitted grudgingly when she realized that she was whining, even in her own mind. There was no
blizzard
. It wasn't even snowing; a few inches of graying snow smothered several patches of ground from the night before. Yamaha mewed at her from his preferred perch in the kitchen sink, and she held out a lettuce leaf to him. Nose crinkling curiously, he sniffed at it before turning his head, disdainful.

"Spoiled," she grumbled to herself. "A few weeks ago you were starving under Megan's porch. Now you won't take anything but that expensive canned food." There was a grain of affection in her scolding, however. She had grown fond of the cat, the rusty rumble of its purr and the warm weight he provided the few times she had woken to find him in her bed. He was a comfort.

Searching the house for her father, she found him resting on the sofa in front of the television, staring out the window with hands pressed tightly to his chest.

"Daddy?" she asked tentatively, not certain if this would be one of his angry or needy moments. His gray eyes flicked to her face, and he smiled.

"Hey, sweetie," he greeted, but the smile quickly slid off his face when it was replaced by a grimace. His hands doubled their grip of his skin. Lena perched on the sofa beside him.

"Still hurts, huh?" she asked.

"Well, yeah," he replied, after a moment of thinking. "But it's just the old fears coming back that are bothering me. For some reason I just can't shake the feeling that this is all just a fluke and in any moment it'll just stop beating. How is it possible that someone can actually slice you completely open and you're still alive?"

Lena took his hand in hers, squeezing it reassuringly. "It won't. Even Megan's little sisters say prayers for you now."

"Why should they?" he snapped. "Since when is this their business?" At Lena's face falling, the anger slid off as quickly as it had appeared. "I'm sorry, bug," he sighed. He slid an arm around her shoulders in a one-armed squeeze and, at their proximity, Lena could hear the steady beat of his heart. The sound relaxed her a significant amount; she had been worried about that very heart for so long.

"So dad," she turned him, trying to sound perky. "I packed us a picnic! Do you want to go to a park or something and walk around?"

Looking like he still wanted to make up for his momentary outburst, he agreed after a momentary pause.

"Don't
really
want to go to a park, though," he told her. "All the parks in the neighborhood are dumps." He had a point; those three accessible parks were the epitome of Philadelphian filth. Although many people throughout the states classified Philadelphia as a disgusting place, like many stereotypes, it was unfounded. It was an absolutely
beautiful
city that Lena loved, in many parts. However, some parts were kept nicer than others. Much nicer.

"So where
do
you want to go?" she asked him, trying to think of another place to walk at. Nowhere inclined enough to provide too much stress on him; hiking was definitely out. What they needed was a small path of flat, even ground. Something like…

"What about that school of yours?"

Lena laughed. "It's winter break; nobody'll be there. I don't even know if we can get in… there are gates…"

"What about the people who take care of the horses and stuff?" her dad asked. "They have to be there every day, right?"

Lena considered; he had a point. If those students managed to get in every day to take care of their animals, they could probably get in without too much difficulty; the prospect of keeping both her parents happy at a rough time like this was an appealing one.

"Alright," she finally agreed. "Just let me bundle up. You get some warm clothes on, too." She puzzled over where they could go to eat their lunch without freezing on her usual picnic bench, but figured they could stay in the greenhouse; she was fairly certain they stored extra tables and chairs in the spacious controlled-temperature house when they weren't using them to sell their good at.

Going into her bedroom, she dressed for their exercise, slipping on warm jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a fuzzy jacket on top, she took a minute to braid her hair into pigtails, hoping the thick bunches of hair would keep her ears protected from the cold underneath her hat.

Stepping outside, she started up her mother's car, letting the heater on as she waited for her dad, who slowly emerged outside, climbing into the backseat of the Volkswagen and pressing a pillow tightly to his chest like the doctor instruct he do whenever he was going anywhere. Lena, unaccustomed to driving though she and Megan had had their licenses for a while, was feeling especially nervous as she made her way down the road, trying to keep their journey as smooth as possible to avoid jostling her father. His occasional sharp gasps of pain caused her to gnaw on her lip in worry.
I really hate driving,
she fussed to herself, staring at the road while progressing at a snail's pace, even when cars around her started honking.
Shut up
, she mentally growled to them.
Don't judge my driving until someone
you
love is suffering in
your
backseat.

Thankfully they made it to her school with no casualties, and, after botching her parking attempt, she hustled to her father's side door to help him out, allowing him to grip her arm and lean on her heavily before standing on the slick pavement.

"Well,
that
was eventful," she said, trying to make light of the situation. To her immense relief, he gave the wry grin she knew too well as a response. Linking arms with him, she found that he was right and the gate by the stables and pens was left wide open, far enough from the road not to be seen.

"Sweet!" she cheered. "You're good, dad." She led him onto the campus and soon the two of them slowly made their way in a circle. One or two kids she vaguely recognized gave her a wave as she guided her father around them, even as they progressed about their own business, weighing and feeding and administering shots to their animals.

"This is like being at a zoo," she remarked happily, turning to look at her dad's face, and then she stopped when she saw his expression; his face was pale, his mouth crooked down unhappily.

"Dad?" she asked.

"Lena," he whispered urgently. "I have to go."

"What?" she was surprised.

"
Seriously!"
he hissed to her. "Some of the pills I'm on… it's an emergency!" Not wanting details, Lena glanced around and dragged her father over to a thick ring of oak trees a decent enough distance from the animal pens to be discreet.

"I won't tell if you won't tell," she informed him, and he nodded gratefully.

"Give me some privacy," he told his daughter, pointing a vague distance ahead. "Just walk around for a few minutes and then come back, alright?"

Agreeing, she hastened from the spot, looping past the pens and greenhouse and making her way to the sports areas. First came the batting cages, where birds somehow always managed to get trapped. She winced at the disturbing amount of feathers and paw prints around the area.
Note to self: never let Yamaha out around here,
she thought distractedly.

Next, a row of twelve or so concrete rooms their physical education classes used for everything from four-square to tennis lined up in groups of six; ten-foot by ten-foot gray cement rooms that had about fifteen-foot high ceilings that were open to the sky and yet covered by chicken wire to keep fly balls in the room. She hustled by the first four, and then a muffled, echoing shout made her stop.
What in the heck?

Peeking around the corner of the cracked-open door of the eighth room, she blinked, trying to see in the darkness. Two bulky shapes were outlined on the floor. As she stared, one twitched. She was about to make a run for it when it shouted again, and she found herself hurrying into the room.

"Hello? Are you alright?" Her eyes quickly took in the form of a boy. "Oh my God," she murmured, dropping to her knees on the floor. "Are you ok—
Gabriel?"
His eyes were huge in their focus on her face, desperately trying to speak to her in the way his mouth could not. Watching him rock from side to side, she realized the reason for his muffled screaming; he was bound, head-to-foot, with thick silver duct-tape. It bound his hands together, completely covering his fingers, binding his wrists to each other, and even going so far as to pin his hands to his chest. His legs were trapped in winding strips tightly keeping his legs conjoined from ankle to hip.

And over his mouth, several strips criss-crossed on his lips in a silencing 'X'.

But that wasn't the most shocking thing about him; he was absolutely filthy, smeared with dirt. Several long cuts marred his flesh; the bits of skin she could see around the tape were raw as if it had been twisted repeatedly. His eyes glowed, completely bloodshot, up at her, sunken deeply in his sockets.

"Oh, Gabriel!" she breathed. "I don't understand…" her hands shot to the tape on his mouth, trying to peel it off, but he twisted as best as he could away for her, making a loud sound of protest.

"It's alright! I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help you…" she returned her hands to his mouth. "Hold still!" He did not; his eyes scowling at her, and he let out what could be interpreted as a snarl.

"I don't understand!" she said again. "You don't me to take the tape off?" his glare vanished in his only way of communicating with her.

"But why…
oh
!" it slowly hit her, and she could have slapped herself. He'd been missing for
weeks
. He looked like he hadn't eaten that entire time. He was literally starving to death. And here she was, a human girl, trying to remove the barrier keeping her safe from him.