Another Sunny Day: the Vampire's Daughter Strikes Back!: Fifty Percent Vampire #2 Page 2

  Lydia, Lydia, Lydia. I glanced at my tight-lipped partner. She was far from happy about the choice I’d made, and that was her right. I couldn’t make her accept that I was serious about Astrid Sonnschein, nor could I stop her having feelings for me, even though I’d made it obvious I wasn’t interested. Entering into a relationship with a fellow cop was something I’d never be willing to do. I knew how badly things could go if someone began dating the person they worked with night and day. I was better off with someone outside the force, someone like Astrid. But maybe Lydia was right, maybe, after all she’d been through recently, my new girlfriend would think twice and never return from the forest.

  CHAPTER 3

  (Astrid)

  Meanwhile at the foot of a Red Spruce

  My throat was so sore I could hardly swallow, but I was reluctant to drink from my flask again. I needed to find water. At the next stream I came to I would pause a while to drain one of the flasks of its sickening contents, rinse it thoroughly and refill it with lifegiver. As opposed to unlife giver. The ‘good’ thing about drinking human blood is that you don’t need much of the ghastly stuff to survive. Maybe I’d be able to hold out, surviving on water only, until I reached the sprawling orchards on the far side of the river and could steal some apples. But that moment was a day or two ahead of me. Meanwhile I was scaring a few rabbits and squirrels, but didn’t have the heart to catch them, even though I knew I easily could.

  Eventually I arrived at a stream. I stopped at the edge, panting. My throat was bone dry. I looked around warily, unslung my backpack and kneeled down to scoop up a trembling handful of water and lap it down like a kitten. Then I unscrewed the flask I’d been using all day, tipped it over, and watched as somebody’s life force disappeared downstream. “Thank you, brother or sister,” I breathed. “And Mom.”

  I stripped off my boots and socks and dipped my toes in the current. The cool water trickled playfully around my bare feet, but I knew I couldn’t linger. Refreshed by my break, I ran on for as long as I could, flitting from one shadow to the next, a couple more hours until the sun dropped behind the mountain tops and daylight began to fade. The moon soon peeked over the ridge, and it was time to take shelter for the night. I picked out the tallest tree around and jumped, arms outstretched, to reach the lowest branch. I climbed as high as I dared, hoping I’d put enough distance between me and the pursuers I knew were out there that they wouldn’t catch up with me before dawn. The moon rose, a great yellow eye in the sky, watching me as much as I was watching it, and once more I bemoaned the lack of cloud cover to blot out the light it cast. A wolf howled, not too far off, and a mountain lion roared its reply. I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, and prayed.

  Spending a night perched in a tree isn’t something I’d recommend. It’s quite easily the most uncomfortable thing in the world, and consequently most of the night I didn’t sleep. Every noise out there signaled something coming to get me. The howling wolves were always closer than I wanted them to be.

  Next morning, as soon as I judged the sunlight sufficiently bright, I climbed down from the tree, drank more water from my flask and set off again. I yawned loudly as I ran, still weary, but I couldn’t afford to waste one second of precious daylight.

  Halfway through the day I had gotten so tired I misjudged a leap over a fallen log. I landed badly, and yelped as a searing pain shot through my right ankle. Oh boy, was it painful. I couldn’t place my weight on it, absolutely no chance of running. With tears pricking my eyes I half-limped, half-hopped to the nearest tree, reached up and broke off a branch. I stripped off the twigs and sharpened one end with Angus’ knife and snapped the branch again, leaving it the right length to use as a makeshift crutch. I moved on, much more slowly than before, and kept an eye out for more fallen logs. If I fell again it would be the end of me. I was probably done for anyway. I had no idea how I would manage to climb another tree when night fell.

  As the moon rose again I sat, with aching legs outstretched, on a log beneath a twisted old oak, drinking water, trying to estimate the distance to the bridge. My afternoon trek had been a total disaster. Even with the help of my makeshift crutch, my right foot had throbbed all the time, and my left foot had developed painful and bleeding blisters, which I’d had to bandage with my handkerchief. My progress had therefore been ultra-minimal. I reckoned I’d lost a day, and would no doubt lose more precious hours tomorrow. In fact, I didn’t know where I was at all; how could I? I’d never ventured this deep in the forest before. Any second I expected wolves to attack, or the mountain lion I’d heard, or worse. Shivering with cold, almost falling down with exhaustion, I dug out some earth from beneath the rotting log and crept underneath, the only use I could make of a tree tonight. The moonlight shone fiercely between the trunks, so it wasn’t much of a hiding place, but it was the best I could manage. If they found me, they found me.

  CHAPTER 4

  (Mike)

  A Police Officer (First Class) calls

  “Officer Hanson, how wonderful to see you! Won’t you come in?” Jean Power, wearing a green below-the-knee pinafore dress that matched the color of her eyes, and with her red curls tied back severely, smiled at me through the crack in the door.

  Holy smokes, was this a massive turnaround of behavior from Astrid’s aunt. On my previous visits, Mrs. Power had frostily barred me from crossing her threshold. This time, she unhooked the security chain immediately and welcomed me into the living room, where I sank down into the big sofa, below a framed picture of the Sacred Heart, and was instructed to call her Jean. A photograph in a gilt frame stood on the side table, next to an open bible. A Bach cantata1 was playing softly on the sound system. Jean was a fervent churchgoer, and highly respected as one of the pillars of our little community.

  “Can I make you a coffee?” she asked, twisting her fingers together, smiling all the while. I couldn't get over how much she looked like her niece. Not at all unattractive.

  “Uh, sure,” I said, picking up the photo, which depicted a young red-haired girl cuddling a cute black kitten. “Wow, this can't be Astrid, can it?”

  Jean laughed. “No, I don't have any photos of Astrid. That's our precious Emma. Let's see, it must have been taken about five years ago. When she was twelve.”

  “How is your daughter?” I asked.

  “She’s fine, thanks, almost back to her normal cheerful self,” she replied. “Shopping with her friends at the mall, I think.”

  “And Astrid?”

  “No idea. She hasn’t called me.”

  My heart sank. So Astrid hadn’t returned. “She hasn’t called me either.”

  “I guess where she’s gone they don’t have much use for cellphones.”

  “Maybe I should go visit her. At the risk of sounding weird, I have a feeling she’s in some kind of trouble.” I brushed a hand through my hair, hoping Jean wasn’t going to laugh at me, because I knew I sounded dumb.

  Jean shook her head. “You’ll never find the place. Give her time. She’ll be home soon enough, don’t worry.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll go make that coffee,” she said. At the door leading to the den she paused. “James!” she yelled. “Switch off the TV, and get yourself out here to be sociable. Officer Hanson’s come to visit.”

  A few moments later, James Power, a great bear of a man wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt bulging in the wrong place, appeared at the den door, clutching a Coors Light. “Wow,” he rumbled. “She let you in.”

  “I’m honored, I guess.”

  James sat down heavily next to me and pulled from his beer. It took a while before he found something to say. “How’s the local crime scene?”

  “Non-existent. If you don’t count the false alarms.”

  “People still going nuts over that guy you shot?”

  “We get an emergency call every time anybody sees someone wearing motorcycle leathers and a black helmet. All the bikers in town are complaining of police harassment.”

  James chuckled. “I’ll bet.”

  I scratched the back of my neck. “And every girl at Rosenberg High seems to be crushing on me.”

  “Well, that’s not a crime. What do you expect when you go around saving damsels in distress? My daughter’s very grateful to you. We all are.”

  Jean came back in with a tray and three steaming coffee mugs. “James, put that beer down please.”

  James muttered under his breath and frowned, but did as he was told, reaching for a coffee as a poor replacement for his habitual beverage. Jean passed me a mug and sat down facing us on the ottoman. “So, what’s bugging you?” she asked.

  “I … Do you really think Astrid is okay?”

  “She’s with my sister.”

  That was supposed to reassure me?

  “June—um, I mean Ophelia—I'll never get used to calling my sister by that ridiculous name—knows what she’s doing,” continued Jean. “She raised my niece practically single-handed.”

  “But you brought Astrid here to Rosenberg High.”

  Jean shrugged. “I didn’t bring her. She insisted on coming.”

  “Lucky for me she did.” Well, maybe. “But what if she’s changed her mind again?”

  Jean’s broad smile comforted me. “She’ll be back. Take it from me, there’s no stopping Astrid once her mind is set on something. Or somebody.”

  The coffee was freshly ground and strong, and I left the Power house with a glad heart and a spring in my step. On the way down the front yard to my car I gazed up at the beauty of the night sky. Planet Venus shone brilliantly, and the palest of almost-full moons was rising above the dark outline of the forest.

  * * *

  1 J.S. Bach - Cantata BWV 169 "Gott soll allein mein Herze haben".

  CHAPTER 5


  (Astrid)

  Sunburn

  Shivering with cold beneath the log, at least I was hidden from the pale moonlight and anything skulking in the undergrowth. Every sound had my insides knotting up. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig had me holding my breath and petrified with primal fear. Was something out there watching me? I had a pretty good idea of what lurked in this forest, and it sure as nirvana wasn't lurking there to make certain I got through the night unharmed.

  Feeling weak from pain and hunger I didn’t dare close my eyes. But eventually I must have fallen asleep because I was woken by the sound of a raven pruk-prukking from a branch of the oak tree above me. “Thanks for the wake-up call,” I muttered as I watched the bird fly away into the breaking dawn. With still plenty of miles to cover, I needed to get moving. I crawled out from beneath the log, sat up grimacing with pain, and brushed the dirt from my clothes. My first thought after drinking was of my ankle, so I rolled down my sock to take a look. The night’s rest seemed to have done me some good, as the swelling had diminished and the ankle wasn’t throbbing anymore. I picked up my crutch and gingerly hauled myself upright. So far, so good. Then I put weight on the injured foot. Ouch! A stabbing pain shot up my leg and sliced through my hip. Oh boy. Today was going to be another challenge.

  I had no idea how far I still had to go to reach the river and the safety of the open terrain on the far side, and my stomach was protesting like crazy. Reluctantly, I decided to open one of the other flasks that Mom had prepared for me. But I rinsed out my mouth with water afterwards.

  That morning the sunlight shone brightly again, a lovely late summer’s day for those who could appreciate it. I kept to the shade as much as I could, hobbling as fast as I could across clearings and through streams, where the lack of cover exposed my delicate skin to the open sky. What wouldn’t I have given for a tube of my cousin’s factor-fifty sun cream? But no matter, I survived my ordeals by fire, a slight tingling on my face and hands being strangely all I felt. Maybe the year I’d spent away from Vampville had made me more resistant to sunlight. Something was different now, that was for sure. A year ago, I never would have dared set foot outside the house on such a sunny day. But a year ago, I wasn’t in danger of being ambushed by a bunch of rabid vampires.

  Much to my surprise, around midafternoon I beat my way out of a thicket of green ash saplings and found myself standing on the riverbank. I could even see the bridge. “Mom,” I breathed. “I made it.” She wasn’t there to hear me, of course, and to tell you the truth, I hadn’t given her much thought since I’d left home. But now I found myself wondering where she was, and what she was doing, and why she’d left me, and whether she’d expected me to make it this far. Of course she had. I was her determined daughter; I’d lost count how many times she’d told me that. My lip quivered and I pushed away a tear. “Mom,” I wailed. “Where are you?”

  I battled my way back into the bushes and hid under their dense cover until sunset, figuring twilight would be the best time to attempt to cross the bridge. If I made it, I would sleep on the far side, in the red barn I had already spotted. And tomorrow morning’s breakfast would be fresh apples from the nearest orchard. My stomach groaned in anticipation and I drank the last of my water supply in an attempt to appease it. Pulling out my cellphone, I punched in the pin code, but frustratingly there was still no signal, even this close to civilization. But tomorrow I would have a signal for sure, and I would call Mike, and hear his voice, and he would drop everything and race out to rescue me and fetch me home in his cruiser.

  Home.

  From now on home would be Aunt Jean and Uncle James’s quiet little house in shady small-town Wicket Lane.

  At the red of dusk I emerged cautiously from my hidey-hole and peered toward the bridge. It appeared to be unguarded, so I continued along the river bank to the road, ready at any moment to make a run for it. Seeing nobody, I kicked up my heels and trotted across the bridge to freedom. I didn’t look back. I was glad to have made my escape from that dark place deep in the forest where I had to admit that sometimes I still felt at home. But this time I was determined not to return. If I’d been in possession of a boat, I would have set fire to it then and there.

  Five minutes along the road I came to a barn. I bedded down in the straw, rolled myself up in a ball, and, lulled to sleep by the quiet rush of the river, dreamed of Mike.

  Next morning, I raided the first apple tree I found, but to my disgust the apples were as hard as rocks and sour. Nevertheless, I forced a couple of crunchy mouthfuls down my throat. Next, I phoned Mike, but he didn’t pick up, so I left an impassioned plea for help on his voicemail, hitched up my jeans, and started down the road. With luck I’d catch a ride soon. Good-looking teenage girl alone on the road, miles from anywhere, someone was bound to stop.

  A couple of hours later I was trying not to freak out. Mike hadn’t returned my call and I was still walking. Correction, hobbling. I sat down for a rest and emptied the one flask I’d filled from the river. I know, I know. I should have filled two. I tried Mike’s number for the nth time but still he didn’t pick up. What was he so busy doing that he couldn’t answer his girlfriend’s frantic calls for help? And what was with the total lack of traffic? Had Judgment Day arrived while I’d been away and everyone whisked off to Heaven or Hell? Or to Paradise, or wherever else you were supposed to end up? But no, I guess not, as I could hear and see an airplane dusting a cornfield in the distance, and from that observation could deduce that at least one person had survived Armageddon. I hoisted my backpack onto my shoulder and struggled onward. My blisters were really hurting now, and it felt as though they were bleeding again, even though I’d bathed my battered toes in the river after breakfast. I struggled back into my shoes and toughed it out until the shadows were at their shortest, then decided to take a siesta. So, with difficulty, I climbed the fence and almost fell over the top of it into the adjacent orchard, ending up spread-eagled under the nearest shady tree. A couple of minutes later, I was out for the count.

  Ouch! Something hit me on the forehead. I opened my eyes, anticipating an impending deluge of Newtonian apples, but it wasn’t apples, it was hailstones, big ones, heavy enough to penetrate the leafy canopy above me and smash on my face and drench my cheeks and hair with icy stinging water. I scrambled closer to the tree trunk and improvised an umbrella from my backpack. Vampires, sunburn, dying of hunger or thirst or sheer fright—now I was in danger of freezing to death. In the middle of summer! And the last time I’d seen hailstones this big there had been a tornado too. Shivering, I watched in dismay as the hailstones hammered down like golf balls all around me. I wiped my hand across my stinging face. Where the heck was Mike when I needed him?

  I could have told you at that very moment my phone rang, but it didn’t. I was forced to shelter almost an hour under the tree until the hailstorm stopped buffeting my head, and spent another hour trudging the road before Mike deigned to call me.

  “I’m soaking wet and my battery’s almost dead,” I shrieked. “Where have you been??????”

  “Calm down,” soothed the man of my dreams. “Find some shelter and keep dry. I’m on my way.”

  At such welcome news I punched the air and burst into tears of joy.

  I was wiping my eyes when a car drew up beside me. I’d been scanning the road ahead for a sign of Mike, and had failed to notice the Merc as it crept up behind me. The tinted window slid down and two dark-haired men in black suits and wearing sunglasses looked out at me. What gave? Bloodsuckers day out? For a moment I thought the closer of the two men was Angus, so familiar seemed his lizard smile. “Hi, darlin’. You need a ride?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Thanks all the same, but I’m expecting my boyfriend along any moment.”

  The guy peered ahead along the road. “Oh, you mean Mikey the stepfather slayer? Sorry to bear you bad tidings, sweetheart, but your hero ain’t coming.” The rear passenger door swung open and he beckoned me with a long-nailed finger toward it. “So, Astrid, please get in the car.”