It didn’t last long.
I got home and found Hopper sitting on the front porch with a pile of dead fish. I frowned at him, glancing around the yard like a stream might have materialized while I was away. “Where did those come from?”
He chittered and leaned back on his hind legs, using his tail as a kick-stand. The little paws grasped at the air as he chortled and sneezed fish guts across the step.
“Lovely,” I said. The bones and guts reminded me too much of the dead wild man’s face and insides-outside, and my stomach turned over. I gave Hopper plenty of room so I didn’t end up covered in scales and waterhound snot. “I hope you enjoy them. I’m going to eat the steak I got you.”
He followed me in, scampering off toward the bathroom, and I turned to lock the door.
And found Dragomir standing there instead.
His eyes flickered red and silver as he stalked inside. “This is unacceptable.”
“What?” I backed up so fast I bumped into a cabinet and the sharp corner dug into my hip. “Who licked the red off your candy?”
“There is no candy,” he said coldly, stalking me with his chin tipped down so his eyes glowered at me. My blood froze. “You are spending time with those newcomers. That male who was here. I see a great deal of activity around them, and yet very little in the areas that matter.”
I pulled the to-go container of steak and baked potato out of the fridge and tossed it on the counter. “I’ve made progress. Are you going to even ask me what I’ve done, or are you just going to assume like a total dick?”
The corner of his eye twitched. “Demonstrate the progress.”
I gnawed a piece off the steak and retreated to my old bedroom to retrieve a large shopping bag. I dropped it on the floor at his feet and went back to the steak to lop off another piece. It probably would have been better hot, but I didn’t have the patience. Archer hadn’t called yet, and I didn’t know how long I could wait until I gave in and called him instead. “UV-protective clothing.”
“Clothing.” He nudged the bag with his foot. “This you consider progress.”
“I know hiking clothes are terribly proletarian, your bougie-ness, but it’s the easiest layer of defense to use.” I yawned and rubbed my jaw. “I’ll work on the UV-protective tuxedo, but in the meantime, this is what I’ve got. Say I come up with a polymer or cream or whatever to protect your skin. Chances are it’ll be expensive, so do you really want to have to cover your whole body with it? I don’t know if there’s a genetic or biochemical fix. You weren’t jazzed about wearing a mask, so I assumed a silicone bodysuit was out of the question.”
Dragomir’s gaze chilled even more.
“Right,” I said. “Definitely not going to be rocking the silicone bodysuit. I’m working on how to start narrowing in on the right lever to pull to fix this, but in the meantime… the UV-protective clothing will keep you from going poof. Which is absolutely progress.”
The vampire’s expression soured. “We do not... ‘go poof.’”
“Then whatever the fuck you do.” I hobbled over to the table and sat, scraping cheese off the baked potato. “Is it instantaneous? Or do you have to sit out there and get a bit of a tan? Does it just age you or mummify you or turn you to dust? What if only your arm is in the sun, does it disintegrate all of you or just the arm? Would it grow back?”
“Why do you ask ridiculous questions?”
“No question is ridiculous,” I said. “If you could regrow fingers, for example, that’ll help us test different solutions at the next stage one finger at a time. First I make sure your blood is protected by whatever solution I have, then we go for a small body part, then we go for more real estate, maybe chest or torso.”
“No.”
I licked sour cream from my thumb. “What, you don’t trust me? Is that why you’re stalking me all day and night? Standing outside my window like a creeper?”
“I am looking after an investment,” he said. His tone slid through me like wolf tones on a cello. “You. I do not intend to let my investments fail.”
“That sounds like a threat, Dragomir.”
He didn’t respond, instead studying the contents of the fridge like I would have peeked into a rabbit’s burrow.
I studied his back and side. Were there fat vampires? Could drinking blood sustain a significant body mass? But something else bothered me more. I could roll the dice and just believe what Archer said and maybe Dragomir would confirm it. “Funny thing happened yesterday. I thought you’d have an opinion.”
Again, he waited. Something crashed in the bathroom and his eyes narrowed. No doubt he disapproved of Hopper still being around.
I didn’t take my eyes off his face. “Why is there a werewolf running around the park?”
Dragomir dropped into that impossible stillness, unmoving as a statue. He didn’t even fake-breathe. Just stood there looking at the wall.
“Yeah,” I said, still watching him. “I took the crew out to where I found the sasquatch and Hopper the other day, and on the way there, a werewolf attacked us. If the crew hadn’t had shotguns, it would have killed all of us.”
The vampire turned on his heel to face me. “Yes, I remember. You thought it was me who attacked you.”
He didn’t deny that it was a werewolf instead of just a scary cryptid. If he believed the beast was a werewolf, well… he’d be in the best position to know.
“Why is there a werewolf here? I’ve never run across one in fifteen years in these mountains, and within a matter of weeks, suddenly there’s a werewolf, a vampire, and that crazy old man who attacked me and might be a werewolf, too.” It felt like a dream, like some crazy flu-induced dream, when I heard myself say those words out loud. Werewolf. Vampire. Did I really believe in werewolves now? When had I fallen off Occam’s Razor?
His attention sharpened. “What do you mean, the old man is also a werewolf? He is dead in human form.”
It was my turn to pause. “How do you know he’s dead in human form?”
Dragomir said nothing.
The detective’s comment about not finding blood around the body, about the attack happening somewhere else… I shuddered. “You killed him? You ripped out his throat and clawed his guts up? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I partook of some of his blood.” No emotion showed in his impassive face. “The rest had to look like an animal attack and not exsanguination.”
So. Gross.
“So you knew who and where he was, this guy who attacked me? You found him easy as that?”
“It is not difficult to find what you are looking for if you understand its motivations and habits.”
Anger percolated in the back of my mind. “He was a werewolf. He looked like one. Did you know that? Did you… You told me werewolves exist. How long did you know he was out there?”
“A few years.”
My heart beat faster. “And the one that attacked us on the trail. You knew about that one. Were they the same one? Different? How many are out there, Dragomir? Where are they? How do we get rid of them?”
“There are more than you’d like but fewer than you imagine.”
I stared at him. “What kind of bullshit non-answer is that? Are you connected to them? Do you have something to do with the werewolves, Dragomir?”
Irritation cascaded through him, but he took his damn time pondering an answer.
Just as he opened his mouth, bright lights swept across the front of the cabin and through the windows, illuminating us both. I froze as the dark SUV pulled up and the engine cut off. Archer. Oh shit.
Archer.
Dragomir hissed, fangs out, and his eyes flashed red.
I grabbed his arm and shoved him. “Get out. Go out the back. Crawl out the broken window. I don’t give a shit. You cannot be here. I – I revoke your invitation.”
“I will dispose of the problem and you will return to your work.” His eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the door.
It really didn’t work. Damn.
“If you hurt him, I’m done.” I put steel in my voice. “I mean it. You can fuck straight off and hide out in your lair for the rest of eternity.”
His eyes narrowed and time slowed. Archer paused near the truck, head tilted as he studied the cabin, and I pointed at him like I could have reached through walls. Dragomir’s voice slid into my brain like a chisel. “My patience wears thin. I will return tomorrow night. Find a solution.”
I felt trapped in deep water, fighting a current as I turned to track his approach to the door. “Mask. Tomorrow.”
The door opened and closed but his words lingered in the air like Hopper’s nasty fish. Progress or you will pay the price in their blood.
He walked away at a normal pace when I lifted my arm a millimeter at a time. The moment he disappeared, time snapped back into place. I staggered and reached for the table, my heart racing and trying to climb up my throat at the same time, and memories of the awful dislocation of being in Dragomir’s lair and then being dropped in the dark to be found…
I clutched my head and went to my knees.
“Ada,” Archer called, jumping onto the porch. He threw the door open. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
I shook my head and fell back onto the floor. Horror swamped my mouth with bile and set my vision swirling but focused as a soda straw. Dragomir had... swung me around like a bag of cats, dropped me into brush piles and rocks. He could have killed me. He nearly did, all in the name of making a story plausible. The justification didn’t change how fucking painful it had been. And it didn’t mitigate the terrifying moments when, once I bled enough, Dragomir licked my wounds for himself.
I shuddered and sucked in a breath, except there wasn’t enough air. There wouldn’t ever be enough air again. Surely it wasn’t that bad. Maybe I did hallucinate. The world darkened around the edges. Maybe I could get out of the deal. We could part ways after I made his masks, and call it even.
No.
Ice dripped down my spine. Archer crouched next to me, looming over me, and I jerked away. Too close. He was too close and the shadows ran over his face and Dragomir saw him. Dragomir threatened him. And now Archer was in my house while Hopper played in the bathroom and I had a box full of research on vampires. Archer believed in werewolves; obviously he’d believe in vampires, too. What would he do if he found the waterhound or the research? Would he know I lied to him? What the hell had I gotten myself into?
“Ada,” he said. “Breathe.”
I shook my head and tried to breathe through the panic. “Back up. Just — back up a second.”
Archer retreated to the table though his gaze remained pinned on me. “How can I help?”
I held my hand out to fend him off, even though he hadn’t moved, and braced against my knees as I sucked in air. My vision flooded with dark blotches until I squeezed them shut. Too much went wrong. Too many close calls. Dragomir breaking my bones, Betsy walking away, Archer promising the world and changing his mind, and he returned to tell me whether he wanted to… do something. I wasn’t prepared for the answer.
Tremors ran through me. Only my thoughts remained, a chaotic riptide dragging me into nothing.
Fear did not rule me. I repeated it to myself over and over. Panic wouldn’t force me to do anything. My hypothalamus reacted to a situation and flooded the limbic system with adrenaline, which caused a physiological reaction triggering the fight or flight response. Brain chemistry took over and I was helpless to control it. That’s all it was. Evolutionary leftovers.
Rubbing my temples didn’t help much, but it bought me more time to keep my voice from squeaking like a gangly teenage boy. I cleared my throat and straightened up. “Talk about something. Something normal.”
Archer leaned back as he watched me. “Did I tell you about that movie we watched yesterday?”
I shook my head and stared at the battered wood floor. Wiped clammy palms on my pants. Sweat trickled down my back and felt hot and cold at the same time.
“I didn’t think so.” He took a deep breath and started a play-by-play of some action flick. The smooth cadence of his voice made it easy to lose myself in a mundane story that didn’t require any kind of intellectual effort.
Of course he knew what to do in every situation, including an irrational panic attack triggered by a goddamn vampire. He couldn’t be just a film producer. Maybe his military training helped him, but those skills would have atrophied. Between fending off the werewolf and handling a flashback without blinking, he wasn’t who he claimed to be.
As his voice slid like honey through me and coated my heart in sweetness, I didn’t care.
My heartbeat slowed closer to normal, though my ribs ached and my legs trembled as the adrenaline dissipated. The shirt stuck to my back in a clammy reminder of my genius brain’s failure to adequately process memories and differentiate between past and present. I shivered and leaned my head against the wall to watch him as Archer wrapped up his analysis of a movie that apparently relied on explosions and car chases to move the plot forward.
He got up and returned with the shabby throw from the equally shabby couch near the fire, and tossed it around my shoulders. He even tucked it in to wrap me up like a burrito. Then Archer sat down on the floor next to me and stretched his legs out.
I waited for the interrogation, but it didn’t start. He remained quiet for so long I started to think he’d dozed off, but when I glanced over, I found him staring meditatively out the window. I took another deep breath, just to know that I could, and said, “Thank you. For that. I don’t know what came over me.”
“A panic attack, maybe post-traumatic stress,” he said. “It’s a normal reaction to going through something as ugly as what you survived. Probably primed by seeing those photos last night. I’m impressed you’re up and already trying to get back to work.”
“Well, I’ve gotta pay the bills,” I said. “No rest for the wicked.”
His fingers tapped against his thigh in some pattern only he knew. His elbow moved and revealed an impressive knife clipped in his pocket. It made me wonder what else he hid.
And I would have much rather talked about knives than what else he might have to say.
Archer took a breath all the way from his toes and I braced for the worst. Instead of telling me that I’d never see him again, he rubbed the scars on the back of his hand. “Did you get a chance to look at the videos I gave you?”
Videos? I blinked and looked around, searching for tapes or something else.
He smiled. “The tablet. Did you go through everything on the tablet?”
“Oh.” I stared at my toes and wondered if maybe Dragomir broke my brain completely. Him worming around in my thoughts or whatever the fuck he did must have caused irreparable brain damage. That was the only explanation for all the confusion and suggestibility. I went from being a rational, intelligent person to believing in vampires and werewolves in a matter of days. I rubbed my temples. “I didn’t. It’s been… busy.”
“Stocking the fridge with more blood?”
I winced. That wasn’t what I wanted to talk about, even if he sounded half-joking. I couldn’t be sure he actually joked, and I couldn’t handle the quicksilver change if he decided to be serious instead. “Nah. Just busy.”
The silence stretched and Archer squeezed my hand. “Sorry. Lame attempt at humor. I want to show you something on the tablet. Can you get up?”
I didn’t want to. As long I stayed right where I was, I could pause life. I could just pause everything until I figured out what to do next, like Betsy said. But I’d tried the same thing after Dad died and it didn’t work then. “Slowly.”
He got up first and offered me a hand, and even though I knew touching him crossed into dangerous territory, I took it. Archer lifted me easily and held my waist as I steadied myself. My heart jumped as I looked up at him, and my lips parted. He was so close. Just right there. If I went up on my tiptoes and closed my eyes, maybe…
I took a chance. I rolled the dice. Just once. Just once, something just for me. Just because I wanted it. Just because I wanted him. I didn’t care about cryptids, I didn’t care about vampires, I sure as hell didn’t care about vampires.
My palms slid over his chest and I leaned in, inhaling that Archer cologne that drove the last rational thoughts right out of my head. I tilted my head and brushed my lips against his. Now he just had to kiss me back.