Hemovore by Jordan Castillo Price

Author:Jordan Castillo Price [Price, Jordan Castillo]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: E
Published: 2013-05-23T02:09:39+00:00

Hemovore

My stomach churned. “But there’s supposed to be fifteen.” She initialed a couple of boxes on a yellow carbonless form, stamped it with a big, round, metal stamper, then slid it beneath the bars of her window. “Sign at the bottom,” she said.

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” I asked. After all, she worked there. I didn’t. She had to know something. I felt an overwhelming surge of empathy for the woman who’d been yelling about her electric bill.

The clerk chewed her gum more vigorously. “Five thousand. That’s what the paper says.” Damn it, Murray, damn it. He should have known. He should have warned me.

“Just take it,” Tina whispered. “It’s better than none.” I signed on the line at the bottom and the girl slid the stacks of money through. Tina slipped a stack into her inner coat pocket and I did the same with the other stack and the half-stack that’d been counted twice.

“There’s supposed to be fifteen,” I whispered to Tina.

“We’ll figure it out.” She looped her arm through mine. “Let’s just get out of here.” I turned and began walking to the door, my body numb, propelled only by Tina’s momentum.

Oblivious to our distress, the cashier in the off-the-shoulder top laughed aloud, and her voice carried easily through the bulletproof, barred-glass window.

“Sun’s down.” Tina peeled off the sunhood she’d just slipped on. “Go in back and tell Jonathan what happened, and I’ll ride up front.”

I got into the truck first, stooping down to slip through the heavy hatch into the back. They’d remodeled since the days of sundaes and popsicles in the typical piecemeal, no-budget way they seemed to do everything. Two shag-carpeted benches lined either side, and a couple of nets hung from the roof that were filled with sleeping bags, V-shakes and other emergency gear. I planted myself across from Jonathan as Rachel scooted over to make room for me. “The money—”

“They found the Audi,” he said, his voice flat.

“What? Who?”

“The police. They found the car. It is all over the news.” It made no sense to me that a stolen car would be a very exciting story—even if that car belonged to us. But maybe it was a slow night.

“There was a corpse in it. A sixteen-year-old boy. His whole body bitten.” No. Not very slow after all.

So it hadn’t been a gang of deviant vampire derelicts leaving a body trail after all. It was László. And he’d managed, yet again, to paint Jonathan as a sadistic freak, while he was free to continue terrorizing us.

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