Kisses from Hell

charge of this, though.”

“Can you still shoot?”

He shrugged. “Sure, but—”

“Can you avoid shooting figures with brown hair, blue jeans, denim jackets, and”—I looked down at my feet—“dirty white sneakers?”

A genuine smile. “I can.”

“Then keep the gun. I have no idea how to use one. Now we should see if Chad did ditch a cell phone. It’s a long shot, but we need to head back to the road anyway. Maybe we can find his trail.”

We did. It wasn’t hard. Chad was no backwoodsman, and we didn’t need to be trackers to find his trampled path through the undergrowth. I followed a detour where he’d walked deeper into the brush, then returned, and at the end of that path, under the bushes, I found a phone.

“Do you think there’s anything I should know about using it?” I asked Neil. “Maybe a GPS that needs to be disabled?”

“My tech skills are limited to being able to turn things on and operate them. In other words, zero on the geek scale.”

I glanced over at him. “I wasn’t assuming. I was just asking.”

“Did I sound defensive?”

“A little.”

A rueful smile. “Sorry.”

I turned the phone on and waited to see if anything would happen. Then I checked for outgoing calls. One had been made twenty minutes ago. Damn.

Before I called Marguerite, I needed some idea of where we were. Neil thought he’d seen a sign on the side road he’d been supposed to take. We found a path heading in roughly the direction we needed to go. Once we found the sign, which promised a town two miles away, I dialed Marguerite’s cell number. On the second ring she answered with a wary, “Allo?”

“Miss me yet?” I said.

“Katiana! Where are you? What happened to you? Are you all right? Are you hurt? They called, the police, about the car. The accident. I said the car was stolen, but I have been looking everywhere, calling everyone —”

“I’m fine. Just kidnapped by bounty hunters rounding up missing vamps from the experiment.”

A pause, then, “That is not funny, Kat.”

“You think I’m kidding? I wish. I’m with another guy they grabbed. Neil…” I tried to remember his last name. “Walsh. Neil Walsh.”

“Actually, it’s Waller,” Neil said. “Walsh is the name my parents have been using since they left the experiment.”

Marguerite overheard and said, yes, she remembered Neil. She warned us not to call his parents on the phone we’d found. If it was owned by Chad, our captors could check their billing and which numbers we’d called. I hadn’t thought of that. Neil agreed. We’d get to the town and lie low until she could pick us up. Then Neil could notify his parents from a pay phone.

As we walked, Neil fussed with the gun, taking a better look at it and checking the ammunition, saying, “If those guys find us, we might actually need to use it.”

“I’m sorry about earlier,” I said. “With Chad. I wouldn’t have shot you.”

“You needed to see how we’d react. While I’m not eager to be turned, I’d rather do that than go back to the Edison Group. My parents told me…things.” He let the word drop, heavy, and stared at the gun, lost in thought. Then he turned it over in his hands. “It appears to be police issue.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Only that it may mean we’re dealing with someone who knows how to fire a gun significantly better than I do.”

“We’ll be fine. You’ve got some killer aikido skills to fall back on. Speaking of which…That might be a popular choice with cops, but there’s no way you picked that up in a co-op term. What level are you?”

“In the black belts.”

I had to press him for more than that, and after some waffling about nonstandard terminology, he admitted he was fourth-degree.

“Seriously? I just made third. Damn.”

“Sorry.”

I laughed. “Is that why you didn’t want to tell me? You think I’d be pissed because you’re a higher level? It just gives me something to strive for. Can’t have a guy beating me.”

I grinned, and when I did, he gave me this look, like…I don’t know. He just stared at me. Then he glanced away fast, cheeks flushing.

“Any other martial arts?” I asked as we walked.

“Just that. I’m not much of an athlete, but I like lunch.”

“Huh?”

“In fifth grade we moved to a new city and there was this kid, a head taller than me. He decided my lunch money was a good way to supplement his income.”

“And you needed a way to keep it.”

“Yes, but I prefer using my head to my fists, so I thought I could outwit him by brown-bagging it. He took that. I switched to health food. He’d still take it…and throw it in the trash. So, I could either humiliate myself by digging through the garbage every day or learn a form of self-defense. I did my research. Aikido seemed a good choice for what I wanted and, as you said, it’s popular with law enforcement, which is a bonus.”

“That’s what you want to be? A cop?”

He studied me, like he was trying to see if I was mocking him. That was getting annoying. When he saw that I was serious, he said, “A detective. That’s what I’m good at—problem solving.”

He asked about my meeting in New York, carefully though, like he didn’t want to pry. I explained and said he should talk to his parents, see if they could come. He might not be a vampire yet, but if they weren’t sure what lay in store for him, this would help.

“I’m sure they’ll agree,” he said. “They want to help me, and I think it would be good to keep in touch.” He paused. “Not that I expect—” He cleared his throat. “I understand that under the circumstances, we’ve been thrown together, and while I’d like to go to this meeting with you, I know it won’t be with you.”

“English translation please?”

Another throat clearing as he pushed low branches aside. “We got caught up in this together. We pooled our resources to get out. But once we are out…” He raked his hair back again. “I’m not one of those guys who thinks that if the popular girls ask for homework help, it means they want to hang out after school.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying…” He trailed off, starting and stopping a few times before glancing over, dark eyes meeting mine. “I think you know what I’m saying, Katiana.”

“I sure as hell hope not, because it sounds like you’re saying that after I’ve used you to escape, you expect me to walk away, pretend I don’t know you.”

“You didn’t use me.”

“Whatever.” I turned in his path, facing him. “You’re saying you know my type, which apparently means you know me. That’s rich, coming from the guy who got his back up when I asked if he knew about cell phone technology. Hell, I’m not even sure I have a type anymore, unless you’ve met a whole lot of teenage vampires.”

“No, I do believe you’re the first.”

He smiled, but I wasn’t buying it, and I sure as hell wasn’t returning it.

“Maybe that’s the problem,” I said. “Not that you think I’m some dumb jock who wanted your answers on the escape-from-evil quiz, but because of what else I am. Not exactly sure you want to