Hollowed (8 page)

Even as I pout
and slink off through the trees,
at
least
there
'
s comfort in knowing
if I screw something up, he won
'
t be leaning over my shoulder to lecture me. Besides, all I need to do is activate my handy-dandy internal vampire GPS, eat, and run. How hard can it be?

Ass-kicking vampire or not, the second I
'
m alone I regret leaving Oliver
'
s side. It
'
s cold, smells like rain, and every rustle of a bush or whisper of a tree heaves my heart into my throat. I can't sense Oliver. Maybe he knows how to hide his presence
.
Cole said it was possible.

Silently I slip through trees and skirt around bushes that tug and snag at my sweater and scrape noisily on my jeans. Graceful huntress, I am not. When I near the
pathways again, I can feel it—
the distinct tickling sensation that someone is near. Footsteps. Two sets of them, I think. The steady click-click of heels on the pavement. I hold my breath, wait for the sound to near,
and
step out just as whoever-it-is walks by.

And I'm...alone?

That doesn
'
t make sense. I know I wasn
'
t hearing things; the sounds were so vivid, so distinct. But
there
'
s
no sign of anyone and the
footsteps
have vanished. Total silence.

Until a
deep, thrumming
voice whispers in my ear, "Briar Rabbit should've stayed with her friend."

It comes out of nowhere, the warm breath ghosting my skin
.
I stumble forward and twist around.

A guy and a girl stand
not half a foot behind where I was. The blonde girl
'
s heels were the ones I must have heard. The guy has a shiny, playful grin a mile wide. Hers is thinner, lacking any humor or warmth. Their presences are the ones I was tracking, but now I can feel something more.
A
warning bell in the back of my brain.

Vampires. Vampires who know my name.

I don't let the cold fear
constricting my insides
show. Instead I force a smile, ready to bolt if I have to.
"
It's Br'er Rabbit."

Guy
'
s
smile flickers, fades, trades itself out by a
frown. "What?"

"It's Br'er Rabbit, not Briar. I think people get it confused because Br'er Rabbit lived in a briar patch.
No one pays attention to classic literature anymore.
"
Shrug.
"
How do you know my name?"

He actually seems to be mulling over what I've said
. What a genius
. Blondie
rolls her eyes
. "We've been watching you." She steps closer. It takes all I have not to back away. "I just have one itty-bitty question, and we can be on our way." Her blood-red lipstick makes her lips glisten when she smiles, and those heavily lined eyes see right through me. She knows I'm scared. She's reveling in it.

I swallow hard. "What do you want?"

Closer still, until
she
'
s
right in front of me. Her heels give her a few inches height, which makes it easy for her to loom. What's worse, the guy has vanished, and I now feel him behind me, practically breathing down the back of my neck. Trapped between them. There's no plausible way to run without being grabbed.

She leans in, surveying my face. Like it's something familiar to her.

"Tell us where to find your sister."

Ruby was beautiful. Long blonde hair, big
green
eyes. She was smart, artistic, athletic. She was the nice girl in school
with good grades, a part of, it seemed, every extracurricular activity imaginable. Drama, art, choir, even auto and woodworking.

In short, she was everything I wanted to be.

And I loved her. Aside from the typical sister-sister bitching we did at each other over sharing a bathroom, doing chores and whose turn it was to walk the dogs, Ruby and I were close. When she went somewhere, she took me along. There wasn't a Disney movie we hadn't seen together from the time I was four years old.

Until I turned fourteen, and Ruby disappeared.

She left behind no letter, no signs of running away. None of her things were missing. Nobody remembered her saying or doing anything out of the ordinary.
Kidnapped,
my parents and the police said. But after finding her blood in an abandoned
bakery
downtown
, any hope that Ruby was somewhere alive and waiting to be rescued began to dwindle. She was gone. And we would never know why.

So the words coming out of Blondie's mouth leave me numb and cold. She snaps her fingers in front of my face.

"Are you stupid? Do I need to repeat myself?"

I force my tongue to cooperate. "My sister is dead." It's the truth as I know it. The truth my parents and I came to accep
t after a year passed and Ruby didn't come home
.

Blondie glances behind me at Guy and her expression darkens. She grabs my face, deceptively slender fingers digging into my jaw. "Don't fuck with us. Where. Is. Ruby?"

I slam my fist into her mouth.

Reflex. That's all it is. She can get in my face all she wants, but grabbing me is a line no one crosses and gets away with.
Blondie
rears back with a howl, blood dripping where one of my rings split open her lip. While she screams and
Guy is too busy gaping at her
, I run like hell.

It
'
s not much of a head start. Guy
is
after me
within seconds
, his steps heavier but faster than my own. His fingers graze my back and I twist, dart off the right side of the path into the trees and bushes. Struggling to pick up some sign of Oliver
'
s presence. There
'
s nothing. I can
'
t
sense
him, and I can
'
t
pause
long enough to concentrate on where he might be. 

Reaching the creek that runs through the center of the park,
I head for the wooden bridge that spans the seven feet across
.
Guy isn
'
t good at silent pursuit; I hear him crashing through the woods behind me like a pissed-off bear. There
'
s no way I can outrun him, especially when I don
'
t know where to go.

I c
an't outrun him, but I can hide.

Rather than take the bridge, I plunge into the water. Instantly
I
'
m all too aware that
,
vampire or not, I apparently need to breathe
because
the cold
sucks
the air right out of me. I
wade against the current under the bridge,
draw
in a deep breath
,
and duck beneath the surface, feet bracing against the mud
dy bottom so I'm not swept
head-first into the nearest rock.
My hands clutch at
roots and plants, anything to keep me from floating to the surface and being seen.

Over the
sound of rushing water
, I can
'
t hear him approach. The only way
I know when he passes is the hollow thud of footsteps over the bridge
. Even then I stay put until I
'
m sure my lungs are going to explode if I don
'
t get oxygen.

I surface sp
uttering and wheezing quietly—
as quietly as one can sputter and wheeze, I guess. Oliver should have warned me bein
g undead—infected, whatever—
wouldn
'
t give me some useful ability like not needing to breathe. Or at least resistance to cold. Teeth chattering, muscles quivering, I drag myself out of the water. Now, if I can
find a tree somewhere I
'
m capable of climbing
, I can hide out until the two psychos take off or until Oliver finds me. Sopping wet and muddy, I really hope I won
'
t lose a finger or toe by the time that happens. So much for hunting.

N
o sooner have I gotten halfway to my feet than Blondie, split-lip already healed but blood still on her face, is a foot in front of me. Quieter than her bearish partner. Lucky me.

There
'
s no
time
for me scramble back before she kicks me. Hard. Once, twice, in the stomach, ribs. Something cracks, I can feel it. This is payback for damaging her pretty face. Instinctively I curl up on my side, trying to block with my arms. She digs the toe of her shoe into my hip, rolls me over onto my back. It hurts too much to resist. Easier to go with it, easier to hold my breath and pray for the jagged pain to stop.

Blondie leans over me, shark-smile in place.
"
You
'
re one dumb bitch, anyone ever told you that?
"

I try breathing in short little pants because it
'
s less painful than breathing in deep.
"
More than once.
"

Her gaze darkens. Obviously she doesn
'
t appreciate my humor, go figure. The next thing I know the pointy heel of her shoe is grinding down into my bro
ken ribs. The screaming I hear...
it
'
s coming from me. She leans her weight into it, pinning me in place, making it impossible to move or think or breathe.

"
I
'
ll ask you again... Where is Ruby? There
'
s no reason for you to protect her.
"

She eases up just enough for me to make some semblance of a reply. Nevermind the
whole
my sister
'
s dead
thing
, ‘cause obviously
she isn't
buying it.
"
Go to hell,
"
I grind out.
"
You killed Sherry.
"

"
Who?
"
Blondie wrinkles her nose. Even as I say it, I know it wasn
'
t them. Neither she nor
Guy
is familiar. She shakes her head.
"
Was that your friend at the river? Sorry about that; the boys got carried away. You were never supposed to be involved in any of this.
"

Sorry about that?
That
'
s it? Sherry
'
s dead, my life is ruined, and that
'
s what she gives me
?
Sorry about that
is what you say when you break
your mom
'
s vase
, or forget to return a loaned shirt or pay the utility bill so the lights get shut off.
Sorry about that
is not what you say when someone is
murdered
.

I
'
ve never wanted to hurt someone so much in my life. Under the tears stinging my eyes from the pain and the anger, I can hardly speak without my voice shaking.

"
I
'
m not telling you shit. Get that tacky-ass shoe off of me before I break your leg.
"
Big words coming from someone lying helpless on the ground
,
but
I can
'
t help it. C
an
'
t see straight, can
'
t think straight. All I know is I
'
m going to kick this girl
'
s ass the second I can move again.

Her face contorts. Not so pretty when she
'
s
angry
. Too bad
angry
means she
'
s
probably
going to kill me. Just like her friends killed Sherry. And maybe when someone asks her about me later she
'
ll tell them,
Sorry about that.