I picked at my fingernails nervously. “When Lucius found you, you weren’t human.”
“I know. I’d been bitten.”
“Lucius says that you weren’t newly turned either.”
“What? But that’s not possible. I remember exactly what happened.”
I got up and walked to Bo, feeling the need to comfort him as I told him things that would tear apart the only world he’d ever known. Or at least the only one he could remember.
“But are you sure that they actually happened?”
“Of course I’m sure. I saw them.”
“Bo, what if someone had fed you blood? What if someone was controlling your mind?”
“But that’s impossible. There’s no—”
“Are you sure?”
“It would take someone incredibly powerful to pull off something like that, someone—”
“As powerful as, say, the very first vampire?”
“Ridley, that’s ridiculous. Even if it were possible, I have a life. You can’t fabricate an entire life.”
“What? You mean give you memories of a childhood or playing football?
Memories of fishing with your dad?”
Bo stepped back from me angrily. “My life was more than that. I have a mother, too, remember?”
I closed my eyes against the pain that I could already see in his. Something deep inside him knew that what I was saying could be true, could be.
“Bo, she doesn’t remember you.”
I kept my eyes shut, but I had no trouble imagining the hurt that was in Bo’s dark, fathomless eyes. An invisible fist squeezed my heart. I never wanted to hurt Bo, but he needed to know this in case it was true. Because, if it was, his life was in danger in ways that we never could’ve imagined, ways more powerful and treacherous than anything we ever could’ve thought.
“What?” His voice was quiet, wounded. I didn’t need to see his face to know that he was in agony.
“Bo, I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice breaking on the last.
I turned my face away, eyes still closed. I couldn’t bear to look at him, could hardly stand to be in the same room with him, his pain was so palpable. My arms ached to hold him, so I wrapped them around myself. He didn’t want my comfort right now, no matter how much I wanted to give it.
I said nothing, determined to let him absorb what I’d said in his own time.
When the silence stretched on and on and on, I finally opened my eyes.
I was alone.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Why police think the killings have stopped in Southmoore. Sunday’s top story coming up next…
“Turn that up, Ridley,” Dad said over a bite of his cinnamon roll.
I slid out of my chair and grabbed the remote off the counter and hit the volume button a few times. I set it down beside my plate and continued munching on my own breakfast. I had been trying to ignore the news. Not only did I not want to hear anymore bad news; I really didn’t think it was good for digestion.
The one good thing the day had going for it, bad news included, was the distraction a Sunday would provide, at least for a little while. And a little was better than none. I’d take it. I’d take anything that would help me get my mind off of Bo and the distress I knew he was in.
Every time I thought about him, about the devastation he must be feeling, I got queasy. It didn’t take me long last night to discover that I’d rather be beaten or shot than to hurt Bo. I honestly believe that it was more painful for me to hurt Bo, to see him hurting, than it was for me to be hurt. I know that sounds ridiculous; in a way it felt ridiculous, too, but the more time that passed, the more I realized that it was true. His anguish was killing me on the inside, eating away at me, gnawing constantly at my guts.
I still had the same bite of pastry in my mouth when the commercials ended and the news reporter’s voice grabbed all of our attention. It brought me back to the present, reminding me to chew and swallow. I figure that anchorman might’ve saved me from choking to death on my food.
Southmoore Police Chief Edwin McDonnahough released a statement early yesterday morning citing the area’s most recent crime statistics. Most impressive was the decrease in murders, violent attacks and missing persons reports.
McDonnahough credits the reduction in violence to the supposed disappearance of the Southmoore Slayer. He believes the improved numbers are a direct result of the collaborative efforts of the Slayer Task Force.
While neighboring towns are openly supportive of the Task Force’s progress, many deny that they will rest easy until the Slayer is captured. That certainly seems to be the case here in Harker.
Despite the presence of the Task Force in the Harker Community, violence is up almost sixty-five percent compared to last year, with an one hundred-twenty percent increase in missing persons reports. Harker Police Department spokesperson Gloria Ashton released a statement assuring citizens that law enforcement officials are doing everything they can to increase safety measures around the community. Some speculate that the Southmoore Slayer has moved south, continuing his violent reign of terror here in Harker. Police deny that recent attacks are the work of the Slayer, citing the FBI’s psychological profile of the killer’s modus operandi, which behaviorists believe does not change during the course of a spree.
The parents of the most recent people to disappear are not convinced, however, as they wait by the phone day after day, hoping for news of the return of their loved ones.
In addition to the disappearance of four local high school children earlier this year, four more have gone missing since Friday, an alarming number when compared to the rate of abduction in Southmoore during the Slayer’s reign. Local teens Drew Connors, Aisha Williams, and Summer Collins were last seen Friday night, though Summer Collins has been officially listed as a Person of Interest in the recent abduction of Jason Gwynn. Police are currently withholding any additional information about Gwynn’s disappearance, as it is part of an ongoing violent attack investigation. If you see any of these children, please call the number at the bottom of the screen immediately…
Giving up on my breakfast, I tossed my roll back onto my plate, pushed my chair back and took my dishes to the sink.
“I’m going to get in the shower,” I said as I made my way from the kitchen.
All I got in response was a grunt and a nod. My parents’ eyes were glued to the television, watching the faces of the missing flash by. After they’d shown photographs of the most recently disappeared, they showed school pictures of Trinity and Devon, and then showed some vague snapshots of Bo and Lars. Neither of them had been around long enough for an official school photo. I’m sure it was probably an accident that anyone had a picture of them at all. With cell phone cameras now, though, it would be nearly impossible to regulate the capture of images.