“Why is Guthrie so sad all the time?” I asked. “I mean... he seems to have a pretty sweet life, except the part where vampires show up at his door in the middle of the night. But sadness hangs over him like a cloud.”
“He made an unfortunate decision, and his wife died,” Rans said without looking at me.
My face fell. “Oh,” I said quietly, wondering if he’d driven drunk and gotten into a fatal accident or something. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
He didn’t volunteer anything else, and a few moments later we were leaving the lobby of the grand old building. A white SUV pulled up to the curb as though choreographed, and the passenger side window rolled down.
“John Reynolds?” the driver asked.
“That’s right,” Rans said without a hint of irony. The almost-convincing Midwest accent was back. If I didn’t know what he was supposed to sound like, I’m sure I would have bought it completely. As it was, something about it grated.
There was no denying my tension at leaving the perceived safety of Guthrie’s apartment, but the drive to Lambert was free of incidents. Rans printed out boarding passes at a kiosk and checked in the Suitcase of Pointy Doom. It felt odd not to have anything with me but the clothes on my back—no purse, no backpack, not even a proper wallet.
I was no fan of airports, mostly because airports implied planes. And I really wasn’t a fan of planes. Not once they got off the ground, anyway. Though to be fair, it wasn’t as though buses had proven to be a much safer option for me in the end.
The security line snaked around a long series of barriers, full of unhappy people with heavy carry-ons shuffling forward a few steps at a time. Children cried. Men in suits checked their watches. Considering it was currently around four a.m., I could only imagine how bad the line would be later in the day.
By the time we reached the TSA agent at her little podium, my back was starting to ache. I realized with a start that I was facing life without NSAIDS... my trusty bottle of ibuprofen consigned to whatever fate had befallen my backpack the previous night. Given that fact, I was doing surprisingly well. My almost giddy feeling of healthy normalcy was slowly fading, but I was still miles ahead of where I’d been over the past few weeks.
The TSA woman accepted my boarding pass and ID, scrutinizing it for a moment before looking closely at my face. I tried not to react—not to let my shoulders stiffen or my face betray worry.
“She’s just got one of those faces,” Rans said in a low, compelling voice. The American accent still sounded wrong, but something about his tone made gooseflesh prickle across my skin.
The TSA agent’s eyes flew to his and caught fast. She blinked rapidly, a look of mild confusion sliding across her features before they smoothed. She returned to processing my ticket.
“You’ve got one of those faces,” she said as she handed everything back to me.
I had to suppress a shiver. “Yeah, it’s funny, isn’t it?” I said in a determinedly light tone. “My husband tells people that all the time.”
She smiled absently and I continued through the checkpoint to the conveyor belt. Boots off, raincoat and cell phones into a gray bin. Belatedly, it occurred to me that having two cheap cell phones with me might look suspicious. I should have stuck one of them in the suitcase. There was nothing for it, though, so I moved to the creepy full-body scanner thing and assumed the proper position, feeling both ridiculous and nervous as hell.
The operator completed the scan and waved me through, and I relaxed incrementally. With my boots back on and my raincoat slung over my arm, I waited for Rans to join me and we headed to the gate. After the line at the baggage check-in and the security line, there wasn’t much of a wait before boarding. I spent it staring at the lights outside the floor-to-ceiling windows with unfocused eyes.
It wasn’t until we were called to board that I realized where our seats were. “First class, dear?” I couldn’t help asking. “Isn’t that... kind of expensive?” I felt ridiculous in the spacious airline seat, sitting there with my rumpled clothes smelling faintly of yesterday’s body odor.
Rans looked coolly amused. “Only the best for you, pet,” he said, and damn it, I was growing to hate that fake accent more each time I heard it. “Window seat?”
My body went cold. “Er... no. I’m good with the aisle seat, thanks.”
His blue gaze swept over me. “Fair enough.”
When we were settled, I fiddled with a snag in the fabric of my jeans. The denim was dark enough to hide the stains where I’d been pushed to my knees in the wet parking lot, fortunately, but I was still going to have to figure out how to acquire some more clothes soon.
The cabin attendant was droning on about safety measures, and I did my best to tune out the discussion of water landings and flotation devices. When the plane rolled away from the gate umbilical with a lurch, my hands clamped around the armrests and my heart beat faster.
“All right over there?” Rans asked, and I swear if there’d been a hint of smugness or amusement in those words I would have smacked him there and then, powerful undead creature or no.
“Never better,” I gritted out. “I live for days like this.”
A pause, and I heard the sound of the window cover being pulled down, cutting off the view of the moving scenery outside. He was silent as the plane taxied along the maze of runways, stopping and starting while I tried to distract myself from what was about to happen.
Then it was time to take off. My eyes closed, and my
