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Chapter Fifteen

Noah

“We’ll bring the bikes around.” Xander kisses my temple as we exit the club. With the red neon sign illuminating the sidewalk, the evening air is full of energy as a distant thunderstorm rolls in over the mountains.

Darkness shrouds the street as cars pass by and pedestrians slip into open restaurants.

Harlan clasps my hand. “Come on, there’s a good ice cream shop around the corner.”

I let Harlan pull me along. His hand fits into mine neatly, and his grip is gentle but cold. That’s when I realize he’s not quite like Xander.

I manage to catch up with Harlan, and we walk hand-in-hand as he kicks up his feet and hums happily.

“Can I ask you a strange and possibly rude question?” I find myself asking.

Harlan’s easy smile doesn’t fade. “Of course!”

The white light of an ice cream parlor fills the alleyway as we reach the front door. It’s designed just like a nineteen-fifties parlor with a hanging sign spelling out ‘Malt Shop’ and red and white leather booths lining the checkerboard floor.

“Did you die before you were turned into a vampire?” I ask.

Harlan pauses with his shoulder resting against the glass door. “I did. But I wasn’t dead for very long before I was turned.”

He doesn’t elaborate any further as he pushes the door open and a bell chimes above us as we enter. The place is air-conditioned to the max, and a tired-looking woman stands at the register.

Harlan lets go of my hand and bounds over to the viewing cabinet where countless different tubs of ice cream are lined up and waiting to be devoured.

“These look so good! I’m starving!” Harlan squeals and begins deciding which flavors he wants.

My appetite for dessert fades as my mind wanders from Tyler’s premonition and Harlan’s vague response. Xander explained that some vampires are warm-blooded if they had been turned when they were alive versus those that were cold due to being dead before the change.

The bell behind me rings as another customer enters and queues behind us in silence. Harlan ‘ums’ and ‘ahs’ between pistachio and peanut butter or boysenberry and coffee. All the while the lady behind the counter waits patiently with her scoop at the ready.

“I can’t believe I found you, baby.”

The world freezes, and every hair on my body stands on end. I barely blink as my body tenses until my stomach revolts and I spin on my heel, coming face-to-face with the last person I thought I'd ever see again.

Richard.

My mind struggles to adjust to the person standing before me. Richard, with his perfectly combed hair, thick and hard with hair gel. Who never left the house without triple-checking his outfit was perfect and had lunch with his clients every Sunday. Who would order the oysters to look affluent and would laugh at things that weren’t humorous in the slightest.

But the man who looks down at me has deep purple rings under his eyes. His hair is shaggy and matted, and his beard has far outgrown his face as it crawls down his neck.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He snatches my wrist and pulls me towards him, but I dig my heels into the overly polished floor. “Do you know how worried I've been? I’ve been sick every night from not knowing where you were.”

His smile is uncanny. Strained. It doesn’t suit him and it doesn’t reach his eyes in the slightest as they twitch with hidden anger that I know is simmering beneath the surface.

“R-Richard.” I find my voice, but it’s weak. Scared.

After these few weeks, I’d have expected myself to have grown a backbone or at least built some level of animosity towards this man. But all I want to do is cry.

“Baby,” Richard sighs, his smile widening. “Let’s go home. I’ll forgive you for everything. We can go right now.”

Forgive me? As if I was the one who put a fist-sized hole in the wall. Or the one who screamed their lungs out and threatened to toss me to the street if I made another mistake.

“No.” I wrench my wrist from his grip and hiss when my skin burns. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Richard hastily checks over his shoulder, his body tensing, and frantically steps closer while I try to step back. Crowding me like a brick wall, he clasps my arm in a vice grip, his nails digging through the leather of my jacket, and I bite back a yelp.