Chapter 22
But first, unfinished business. Backpack strapped to my shoulders, a plastic bag in my hand, I stared at my father’s front door. It had been months since I’d stood there in broad daylight. I bit my lip. Part of me considered running away.
No, I told myself. This was what needed to be done. No more running. I had to tell him everything, from what happened the night I disappeared, all the way to the night I may or may not have helped save the world, or at least, the city. At the very least I wanted him to know that I kept a stable job for longer than a month. But again, yes, the saving the world bit.
Beads of water dripped from the plastic bag onto the cracked cement of the house’s front porch. I’d picked up a few beers along the way – not to encourage my dad’s habit, no, but because it was part of our ritual, part of how we bonded.
I lifted my hand, knuckles poised to rap on the door, when I stopped. Was this actually the right thing to do? Would he even acknowledge me? How would he react knowing that I was supposed to be dead?
“Go to him,” Sterling had said. He was right. It didn’t matter for as long as I could tell dad everything that happened. He’d believe me, and he’d understand. I sucked in a lungful of air, my chest puffing out. He’d be proud of what I’d done. Finally, he’d be proud.
Kind of weird taking advice from a vampire, I know, and weirder still acknowledging that vampires were now a part of my existence, but Sterling had the right idea. I wrinkled my forehead, straightened my back, and knocked loudly, three times.
Couldn’t help it. I grinned widely, something loosening inside of me, my chest expanding at the very thought that I was going to see my dad again, that there was a chance we could rebuild our relationship and carry on like the good old times.
I glanced over my shoulder, at the lawn where I used to play as a kid that had now gone brown and bone-dry. I could help him with that. We could sort that all out in time, nurture the grass as we nurture our relationship. We could go to the sea like we used to, do one of those picnics in the sand and talk about mom. I missed the ocean. I missed her.
But a minute had passed, and nothing. Maybe – maybe he was asleep, I considered. I knocked again, five times, louder this time. He couldn’t be at work. It was a Saturday. Stupid me, though. What if he was out doing groceries, or seeing some friends? Yeah, that was it.
I walked around to the side of the house, in full view, this time, of the large window where I used to peek in to watch him by night. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to find. Bottles strewn across the kitchen table, maybe, boxes of day-old pizza or Chinese food that he’d taken to leaving out since I’d left. But the kitchen was clean. Not just clean, though. Everything was gone.
My heart pounded as I pressed up against the glass. The refrigerator, the kitchen table, even that dried-up plant by the doorway to the living room, all gone. I gritted my teeth. Where was he?
My gaze focused on my own shadow, cast across the floor from the sunlight streaming in through the window. In half a second I had shadowstepped into the house. It smelled musty, like it hadn’t been aired out in weeks, maybe months. Motes of dust hung in the air, floating peacefully like little creatures, like the only things left living in this place.
I rushed to the living room. The couch, the television, the coffee table, all of them, gone. Pictures of my dad, of my mom, of me, none of them were there. All gone.
Something like loss twisted in my chest. Sterling had been right all along. I choked. I wanted to tell myself it was the dust, but I knew that it wasn’t.
“Dad?”
I let my feet carry me up the stairs to the bedrooms, where I knew I would find nothing. The bed frames lingered, the mattresses either moved or sold off. I bit my lip.
Glass tinkled. I wasn’t sure when the plastic bag had slipped from my fingers, but a
mber liquid crept slowly across the floor, pooling around my feet. I clenched my fists.
“Dad?” I said again, hoping that someone would answer.
No one did.
Chapter 23
“This is great.”
I shoveled another helping of chicken straight into my mouth, chasing it with a heap of white rice. The meat was cooked in a dark sauce, tangy, sour, rich. Couldn’t get enough of it.
Gil nodded in silent approval. Sterling looked on with a tired, glazed expression, and Carver hid his smile behind steepled fingers, watching me over the gleaming perfection of his buffed nails.
I kept going for more, attacking my plate like I hadn’t eaten in days. “What did you say this was again?” I said, through a mouthful of rice.
Sterling raised an eyebrow. “Chicken adobo. It’s Filipino food. You know, like the sign outside says.”
“No need to get snippy,” I said, maybe a little too sulkily. “It was just a question.” And I had many, many more.
It wasn’t hard to find these guys. Rather, it wasn’t hard for them to find me. All I had to do was sit alone out in the open where I was vulnerable and exposed to danger. Naturally, I picked Heinsite Park, the very place where I was abducted shortly before being sacrificed, and, incidentally, the same park where Sterling and Gil had chased me. I kept glancing at my watch to see how long it would take for one of them to show up. Ten minutes, almost on the dot, and Sterling had slunk up next to me on the park bench, a cigarette dangling from his thin, bloodless lips.
“I’m ready to talk,” I told him. And he took me to this Filipino place, a little restaurant just on the edge of the Meathook. Calling it a restaurant was generous, really, considering it only had four tables, plastic chairs to sit at, and kind of grimy linoleum flooring. The fluorescent lighting really emphasized just how pale I’d always thought Sterling was, except it turned out that he was even more pallid than that. Gil looked like just another guy off the street, albeit a really tall, muscular, and somewhat hairy one.