Blood and Snow Volumes 1-4: Blood and Snow, Revenant in Training, The Vampire Christopher, Blood Soaked Promises (19 page)

“Christopher,” I whispered.

He didn’t stop, but
went
right through me. Freaky! I
didn’t feel
a thing.

I turned and watched him open a warped brown door, and go through.

“What?” I heard him
call before he slammed it
. 

You died, you idiot, my inner voice howled.

Shut it! I screeched.

“What am I doing here?” I slowly spun in a circle, searching for answers.

Follow Christopher, ding-dong.

My inner voice was really starting to grate on my nerves, but I obeyed. Stepping up to the door, I tried to wrap a hand around the knob, but I couldn’t grab it.

Jump in
!

“Argh,” I growled, putting a flattened
hand against
the door. It
disappeared
. So I stuck my arm, followed by my head
through the door
. Yep, going through objects wasn’t a problem for me.

No duh, my inner voice harrumphed.

On the other side
, I looked around.
The house was small, run down.
Empty of pictures or any sort of decoration.
I
made my way
in
to the
kitchen. Think retro 70’s at its finest—
orange cupboards, a pea green refrigerator
and
stove, and
white linoleum flooring. A half-eaten sandwich sat on the counter, as did an empty marbled
,
green glass.

No one was in
the kitchen
, but I heard talking to my left so I followed the sound through a wall and into the living room. I’d never seen so much plaid.

Christopher
stood at the foot of a woman sitting
on a faded orange
recliner. She
handed him s
ome money, which he stuffed in his
back pocket.

“Get me a pound of ground beef, and a pack of cigarettes—whichever one’s are on sale. Don’t dawdle.” The woman
speaking
had medium length blond, feathered hair, a heap of blue eye shadow on her lids, and wore a mustard yellow sundress. I
believe
she was
beautiful at one point. Now she seemed hardened, and wrinkled. “Well don’t just stand there! Go!”

Christopher’s shoulders slumped as he turned, and walked past a large front window, plaid curtains pulled back, letting in the dying
daylight
, and opened another door. It led outside.

Once it closed, I went through it, and stopped at the top of a small concrete landing with three steps leading to a cracked pathway that turned into the sidewalk. The grass was yellowed, the color of dried hay. Random toys were scattered about making
me wonder if Christopher had
younger sibling
s
. He’d picked up a bike, and was pedaling so fast he was nearly at the end of the street.

“Christopher, wait.” I called. I didn’t need to worry though. My body floated after him, as though I was a balloon tied to a string attached to his wrist.

As I glided along
,
I watched the cookie cutter houses pass by. A group of kids
played
baseball in a park, their banter easy to hear. Then
Christopher
turned a corner, and houses disappeared making way for stores
, including a
7-11, a liquor store, and what I guessed was a grocery store
, called
The Apple Store
.
Christopher jumped off his bike, letting it fall with a clang to the ground, and ran in.

He went toward the back, past a group of guys
in long black, leather jackets
.

For the first time I was glad no one could see me. Christopher gave them a wide berth, but I was mesmerized, and watched as th
ey pointed at Christopher
, and began to laugh.

My heart skipped several beats, and warning bells went off in my head.

Christophe
r already had the meat, and
moved on. The guys sauntered along after him, pushing each other, and scaring customer
s
they walked past.

Christopher picked out a pack of cigarettes
from a stocked
shelf—not
a shelf
behind a counter or
locked glass—the
way cigarettes were stored now, but out in the open, where anyone could grab them—then made his way down an aisle filled with magazines, and books. I cringed slightly, thinking he’d head for the comics
, or worse, naked women. I so didn’t want to see that
.

He surprised me though. Instead he picked up a woodworking magazine, and
flipped
through the pages.
When he came to the page he wanted, he set the opened magazine on top of the meat and cigarettes, and pulled
out the piece of wood he’
d been working on
. I leaned over his shoulder, and noticed it was a carving of a bear. The one in his hand looked almost exactly the same
as the one on the page
.

Wow, I was impressed. He had talent.

Chapter 7

S
uddenly the magazine flew out of his hand with a thwack followed by the sounds of voracious laughing. Christopher’s shoulders tensed, and he turned.

“What’s the big idea?” he asked, and I perceived his barely contained rage.

The one in the middle stepped forward, the others flanking him. There were five. My heart started pounding in my throat, making it difficult to
understand what was said, but I gathered they wanted a fight.
That didn’t seem fair, five against one. The leader shoved Christopher,
causing
his shoulder
to smack
against the magazine rack.
He righted himself, and adjusted his shirt. The muscles in his shoulders
relaxed, and
he smirked
. I knew that smirk.

“You’ll pay for that,
”
Christopher said quietly.

The leader’s mouth dropped. “I doubt it, dickhead.”

“How about we step outside and find out.”
His tone was smooth, in control. Did he understand what was happening? Did he want to fight them?

The guys all started laughing, playfully shoving the leader. A look of surprise skimmed across
the leader’s face
before he hardened his jaw. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“I’ve got t
o pay for these
first. Meet you outside in five?” Christopher held up his hand, his fingers spread wide.

“We’ll be waiting,” the leader said.

Christopher stepped past them, and got
in line to pay
. The
jerky
guys
loudly made their way
outside, and disappeared
into the parking lot
. I couldn’t help but be terrified for Charming. Would he try and sneak out the back? What was his plan?

Once he’d paid, and the meat and cigare
ttes
bag
ged
, he
walked out the front door
.
It was almost dark, and
I didn
’t see the leather clad guys immediately. F
or a split second
I
though
t
they’d left.
Not
the case.

Christopher set the bag next to his bike, and
made his way over
to them
.
The leader took off his
jack
et, removed the cigarette
sitting behind his right ear, and handed it to one of the other guys, then put his arms up, his hands in fists. Christopher shook his head, and chuckled
, but didn’t move. He just stood there with his irritatingly handsome smirk.

“Move,” I shouted.

Large overhead lights flicked on
.  

The leader circled
Christopher
. “Come on, dweeb, you talked the talk inside. Let’s see you walk the walk.” As the leader spoke he moved
to punch Christopher in the kidneys
. Quicker than lightning, Christopher spun around, grabbed the leader’s hand, and flipped
him over so he
landed on his back.

It knocked the wind out of the leader, and he
grabbed his chest, trying to suck in some air
. His friends let out shouts of outrage and surprise, and then they all
went after
Christopher
as one
.

There
was a barrage of punching, and kicking.
Swearing and s
pinning followed by
the
cracking of bones, and howls of pain.
Everything happened so fast I couldn’t keep up, but it looked as
though Christopher was winning. He obviously knew how to take care of himself.

Relief washed through my veins, until I saw a
flash of steel.

One of them had a gun.

“You think you’re a bad ass,
” the guy
holding the gun asked
, his breathing coming in ragged gasps, the arm not holding
the gun cradled against his stomach
.

Everyone froze, including Christopher.

Sickness wound through my belly.

“C’mon, don’t,”
another
guy
said. “That’s going to
o
far, man. Put it away.”

“Yeah, we can’t kill the kid,
”
another added.

“Don’t
hurt
him,” I
shouted
, my hands wringing against my si
des. “Help,” I cried, though it was useless. If anyone was in the parking lot, they’d already left or were hiding.

“Who says,” the guy holding the gun whispered, his
voice filled with seething fury
.