“He just mentally flipped me off, Mom!”
Anthony giggled in the back seat. I told Tammy to get out of her brother’s head and for Anthony to quit mentally flipping off his sister. He giggled some more, then settled down. Tammy pouted, crossing her arms, making her own harrumph noise. At least they were mostly quiet. It was about all I could ask.
About a minute later, Tammy said, “I saw them, Mom.”
“Saw what?”
“The cigarettes. Whose are they?”
It would do no good to give Tammy a line, or tell her anything other than the truth, although I’d rarely made it a habit of lying to my kids. Of course, keeping my vampiric nature hidden from them as long as I could was one thing, but that cat had been out of the bag for some time now. Also, Tammy was as telepathic as I was. Perhaps even more so, since she could read other family members’ minds, including her little brother’s, and he was about to hit puberty. I prayed for her soul.
“We’ll talk about it later,” I said.
“What are you two talking about?” asked Anthony. Now that he was no longer physically attached to a game console, he had joined the land of the living.
“Mommy has a pack of cigarettes in the car,” said Tammy.
“I want one!” said Anthony, leaning forward between the two seats.
“No, you don’t,” I said to him, and then glanced at Tammy. “See what you did?”
“I didn’t do anything except tell the truth, Mommy.”
“Mommy smokes?” said Anthony, perhaps in a higher voice than was necessary. He looked from me to Tammy. “Seriously?”
“I don’t know,” said Tammy, holding my gaze. “Why don’t you ask her?”
I looked at my daughter some more, then over at Anthony’s too-eager face, then sighed and pulled the minivan over to the side of the road, where I parked in front of a beautiful, two-story home that was probably even more beautiful inside. My own neighborhood was about two miles away, and was filled with older homes that looked nothing like the ones that lined this street. My small home was the most that Danny and I could afford, and we had been happy to have it. Truth was, I was still happy to have it...but now I associated much pain with it, too. After all, I had been living at that home when my life had been irrevocably changed, when I had gone from being mortal to immortal, when my days were stolen from me, when my husband had rejected me and cheated on me, where my kids had been taken from me, and where I had cried often and still cried to this day. Of course, there were a lot of good memories in that home, too, but with Danny now gone, those memories were getting harder and harder to access.
Perhaps I should have been delighted that Anthony seemed to be coming out of that dark place he had been in for the past few months. In fact, just hearing him playing with his Game Boy was a major step in the right direction. And hadn’t he gone many months without teasing his sister? He had, and I had feared that I had lost my kids forever.
But here they were, teasing each other like old times. Yes, I had missed their teasing and fighting and bickering and...
“Don’t say it, Mom,” said Tammy giggling, and obviously following my train of thought.
“Say what?”
“Farting. You were going to say you even missed Anthony’s farting.”
“How could I miss his farting?” I asked. “When it never stops.”
They both giggled, and I turned in my seat and hugged them both, which was kind of hard to do in the minivan, but we managed. No words were spoken for a few minutes, but we were all soon crying, Anthony the hardest of all. We did this often, now that their father was gone. My tears, however, weren’t for Danny. They were for my kids who had lost their father. Danny, in the end, had dug his own grave.
It didn’t have to be this way. Danny could have stood by my side, through thick and thin, and through hell and back. We could have stayed a strong family, an unstoppable family.
Such an idiot, I thought, and hugged my kids tighter.
A moment later, Tammy pulled away and said, “Now, about those cigarettes, Mom...”
Chapter Five
The anticipated one-hour drive from Fullerton to Corona took four hours, due to a tractor-trailer accident that had blocked several lanes.
Luckily, I had peeled off the freeway before I peeled off any faces. Now, with the sun setting, and me at my jittery worst, I finally sat in the Starbucks parking lot and did my best to calm down, to relax, to breathe.
This was always the worst time of the day for me, the time just before the sun set. It was a time when I felt less than human, when I felt weak and vulnerable.
As I waited, I cracked my neck. I drummed my freakishly long fingernails on the steering wheel. I breathed through my nose, in and out, in and out, rapidly. Faster, faster.
Pacing sometimes helped, but not always. I could get out and pace next to the minivan, but then, I would look like the freak that I am. I stayed inside and waited it out.
Breathing.
Drumming.
Fidgeting.
Last week when I had been pacing, I had inexplicably driven a fist through my bedroom door. I’d regretted that. And it had cost me about a hundred bucks’ worth of handyman services.
So, I waited in the minivan, now gripping my steering wheel.
It would do me no good to step out now, not with the sun just minutes from setting. Minutes that felt like forever. Minutes that were truly torture for me.
Now, the setting sun was at the point where I could no longer think or focus on anything else. I just needed to power through the next few minutes.
I breathed and ran my fingers through my hair. I was aware of someone sitting in a nearby car watching me. I didn’t want them to watch me. I wanted them to go away. Or I would make them go away.
Breathe, Sam. Breathe. Forget them.
Fuck them.
Breathe, Sam.
And with that last thought, I felt a sudden deep calm overcome me. I didn’t have to look up to know the sun had set. My weird, immortal, cursed, supernatural body was hyper-aware of the sun. Attuned to the sun.
I took a deep, full, useless, beautiful breath and felt my lungs expand, and as they expanded, I felt myself expand, too. I felt my energy, strength and vitality noticeably increase.
I went from a shell of a human, to something unstoppable.
Just like that.
I stepped out of the minivan and surveyed the Starbucks where, three weeks earlier, a woman had gone missing.
Chapter Six
Unlike some movie vampires, I could go for a few days without eating.
I abhorred the word feed. Hell, if anything, what I did was closer to drinking. Now, I imagined going an eternity and never really chewing on anything ever again.