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GREYSON CURSED AS HE pulled off the main road and into Alex’s driveway and found that her car was gone. “Dammit!” he shouted and pounded both fists against the steering wheel. “I’m too late!” He’d wasted too much time with Dario. Though he’d received invaluable information from Dario, and Dario had confirmed all that he’d suspected, he regretted the length of time it had taken. He should have left when he’d planned to. If he had, he may have caught her before she’d left. Who knew where she was now or what she was experiencing. She could be anywhere and with anyone. In danger or endangering.
He sat for a moment, staring at her rundown house as he contemplated his next move. Once-white siding had a coat of gray grime clinging to it along with another greenish substance Greyson couldn’t identify. The green shutters were faded and hung at odd angles and the screen of the storm door had several holes large enough to fit two fingers through. But Greyson didn’t care. He didn’t care one bit about the siding, the shutters, or the screen. He never stayed in fancy places. He’d never held possessions in high regard. Not as a human and not as a vampire. Bigger houses and more expensive things were just what they were on the surface: bigger, more expensive things. They didn’t impress him. And he’d never been the kind of person interested in impressing others. It was the person who lived inside the house or apartment that mattered to him. You could put a horrible human being on the streets, in a cramped apartment or in a multi-million dollar home, but that didn’t change the fact that the person was still a horrible human being. He knew what he was and would be it regardless of where he lived or what kind of car he drove. He was a monster. A monster was a monster whether he wore designer jeans and drove a Mercedes or Levi’s jeans and drove a Chevy.
Without an idea of how to find Alex, Greyson slipped out of the driver’s seat of his Tahoe and jogged up to her front door. Hopefully, someone inside knew where to find her. He took a deep breath and opened the screen door. It creaked on its hinges so loudly he’d expected someone to come to the door before he knocked. But no one came so he rapped the peeling paint of the front door with his knuckles. After several moments, a female voice sounded on the other side of it. She debated answering with a male, who slurred his words nearly as much as she did. He suggested she answer it.
“Oh fine,” Greyson heard the female voice exclaim finally just before the patter of footsteps sounded and the light to his left came on. The front door opened. “Can I help you?” asked a woman with black makeup smudged around her brown eyes and blonde hair so bleached and over processed it looked like it would make a crunching sound if touched. At first her gaze had been unfocused, meandering in the vicinity of his shoulders as she’d squinted against the porch light. But as soon as her eyes adjusted, they became fixed on his face. She immediately straightened her posture, thrusting her chest forward and placing a hand on her hip as the other fought to smooth her disheveled hair.
“Hi. I apologize for waking you. But I’m looking for Alex,” Greyson said.
“You didn’t wake me!” The woman swatted the air in front of her to dispel the notion. “Don’t you worry about that, I wasss up.”
“Oh, uh, I see.” She looked as if she’d been in a deep sleep or possibly and alcohol-induced coma moments before she’d answered the door, but he wasn’t there to debate her about any of that. He was there to find out where Alex was. “Sorry for assuming. It’s late and—”
“Oh please! I’m not that old. And isss not late. In fact, I’m prolly not that much older than you are.” Her voice was thick with alcohol and the sour stench of her breath reached him from the other side of the screen. “I had Alex when I wasss very young.” She bobbed her head and had given up on smoothing her stiff mane and opted to twirl a crispy piece around her finger instead. Leaning against the door jamb, the eye contact she made with him was unsettlingly concentrated. Every so often she batted eyelashes that resembled the leathery legs of a wood spider and attempted smiling coyly. Through the heavy filter of alcohol, he supposed both seemed like good ideas to her. To Greyson, her behavior was sad. “I wasss so young she’s practically my sister. People think she’s my sister. On account of I look so young.” She did the smile-eyelash-batting thing and stared at him, waiting for him to agree.
“Uh, okay, well,” Greyson cleared his throat.
“Laurie. My name’s Laurie.” She opened the door and shoved her hand at him, all the while she maintained intense eye contact.
Reluctantly, he took it and gave it a light, anemic shake. But when he tried to retrieve it, Laurie refused to let go.
“Why don you come in. Isss cold out there.” She pulled him forward.
“No, really, that’s not necessary. I’m not cold. I’m just looking for—” he started but she cut him off.
“Well, I am. We can talk in here where iss warmer.”
Greyson refrained from rolling his eyes and shouting “Seriously!” Instead, he nodded and accepted her invitation. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, he opened his mouth to ask where he would find Alex when the male voice he’d heard earlier called out.
“You comin’ back to bed?” the man asked in a hoarse, slurred tone.
Laurie laughed nervously. “I wassn’ sleeping, Juss’ you. I’m busy,” she said.
The man didn’t reply.
“You wanna a drink? I have beer, wine,” she started rattling off a list of booze.
“No, but thank you.” It was a struggle for him to remain polite. His guilt and his worry for Alex combined with Dario’s untimely visit and distressing news had been enough. Laurie’s attempts to keep him there by plying him with alcohol didn’t help matters. He took a deep breath to calm the prickle of annoyance he felt. “Actually, I’m here looking for Alex.”
Screwing up her features as if shocked, Laurie asked, “Why?” as if the idea of anyone looking for her daughter was absurd.
“Why?” Greyson asked, allowing a little bit of heat to enter his tone.
“Yeah. Why?” She shrugged and still wore the unflattering expression.
“Because I need to see her. I need to find her,” Greyson answered and couldn’t believe the demeanor Alex’s mother had assumed. He didn’t know why, but felt hurt on Alex’s behalf. He’d just met her but he found himself with a distinct ache in the left side of his chest, hurting for her.
Laurie chuckled mirthlessly. “Why would anyone need to see her?” Her upper lip curled in disgust. “She’s nothing important.”
“Maybe to you she isn’t.” The words snapped from a part of him he’d kept at bay for many years.
Laurie jerked her head back. He waited for her to correct him, to tell him he was wrong and way out of line to say something so rude. But she didn’t. She didn’t appear as though his words had phased her in the least. The ache intensified.
In a softer tone, Greyson said, “Can you please tell me where Alex is?”
Laurie folded her arms across her chest. “Wasss in it for me?” she dropped her chin and asked while poking out her lower lip in a dreadful pout.
“Excuse me?” Greyson asked. Surely, he’d heard her incorrectly.
She advanced a step.
Greyson retreated a step so that his back rested against the closed front door.
“What do I get if I tell you where Alex is?” She spoke her daughter’s name with a hint of scorn.
A powerful wave of annoyance crashed against the shores of Greyson’s mood. “Nothing. You get absolutely nothing,” he said as he leveled her with a flinty gaze.
This time, it was Laurie who retreated a step, thankfully expanding the distance between them. “Oh. I see. You’re interested in her.” The implied part of her statement, the part that screamed “and not me”, was left unfinished. She tossed her head back and tipped her chin. Her bleary gaze locked on him defiantly. “She’s at the roller rink with her sister.” The words blended in a barely-coherent sentence that reeked of both resentment and resignation.
Greyson contemplated asking which one in case more than one existed but decided against it. He’d Google roller skating rinks in the area as soon as left and hit all of them if he had to. As long as he found Alex. “Thank you,” he said.
“Yep,” Laurie replied in a snippy tone.
Without hesitating another second, Greyson turned from her and headed out the front door. He climbed into his SUV and started the engine. He then grabbed his phone from the console and punched in the words “roller rink” and Dutchess County. Immediately, the name Hyde Park Roller Magic popped up. As far as he could tell, it was the closest of the ones listed. He began reversing out of the driveway and decided that would be where he’d start. He set Roller Magic as his destination in his GPS.
Once out on the main road, he stomped on the accelerator and sped toward the roller rink. He couldn’t understand why but a sense of urgency had claimed him. Shot with adrenaline, his veins thrummed, Alex the singular chord vibrating through him. Cars weaved left and right on the three-lane street as they darted toward various entrances to one of the many restaurants and hot spots that lined the road. Greyson couldn’t care less about the bustling nightlife. All he cared about was the fact that every car seemed to be recklessly jockeying for the same spot on the road; the one right in front of him. He’d blared his horn and received angry middle fingers from more people than he could count. They could moon him if they wanted, as long as they got out of his way. Between crazed motorists and the fact that he was hitting every red light on Route 9, Greyson felt dangerously close to losing his mind. The harried pulse of the traffic slowed only after the road narrowed to two lanes and the establishments flanking either side became sparser. After more than twenty minutes of driving, Hyde Park Roller Magic came into sight. He only hoped to find her there, safe and happy. But the sinking feeling twisting in his gut warned otherwise. He couldn’t explain why, but he not only feared she was in danger, he sensed it.