Seventeen

Someone is following me.

I am a mile into the Lost Mine Trail, and I keep hearing the crunch and shuffle of feet behind me. Yet every time I look, I see nothing. My mind must be playing tricks on me. This paranoia—it all started yesterday.

Yesterday, while I was out running an errand for David, I had that same weird feeling—that unmistakable sense that someone is watching you. So I crossed the street. And when I noticed someone else cross the street, about fifty yards back, I stopped to look at a window display, and this person stopped, too. When I turned to look at him, he entered a store, as if that’s where he’d been headed all along. But I knew better.

Someone is following me.

I never got a very close look—but I could see that he’s older, in his late thirties, and balding. He was wearing khakis and a button-down shirt.

After picking up what David needed, I stopped by the co-op to get our lunch. I felt as though I was still being followed, though each time I turned I couldn’t see anyone. Either this guy got better at hiding, or he’d given up. Or maybe he had never been following me at all.

I found Alex in the cereal aisle. “Do you see anyone watching me?” I asked. “Look around and tell me what you see. But don’t make it obvious that you’re looking.”

Alex looked around, unfortunately being very obvious about it. “We’re the only ones in this aisle, Kat.”

“Okay, then follow me.” I described the man to him and led him to the produce section near the front of the store. I pretended I was looking at oranges as Alex scanned the customers.

“I don’t see him,” he said. “And besides, I recognize almost everyone in here. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” I look around, too, but he’s right—that man is nowhere to be seen. “It’s probably nothing.”

“You sure?” He looked concerned. “Do you want me to walk you back to the store?”

“No, I’ll be fine. So, are we hitting the trail this evening?”

“I can’t,” Alex said. “I’ve got inventory tonight. Love the overtime, but it’s going to be a late night.”

“Tomorrow, then?”

“Sure.” He studied my face, as if he was reading my mind. “You’re not thinking of running by yourself tonight?”

“Of course. I’ve got to keep getting the miles in.”

“Why don’t you just take the night off?”

“It’ll just be a short run,” I said.

“Well, stay off the Lost Mine Trail.”

“But I thought we were going to run it this week,” I said. Alex’s training program includes three different trails, all of which will strengthen different muscles. A part of me was nervous about going back to the Lost Mine Trail, but I knew I had to do it eventually.

“That’s right,” he said. “We. Not you alone.”

I felt my face getting red. “I thought you said bear attacks are rare.”

“They are.”

“Well, then, what are you worried about? Some other type of attack?” I stepped closer to him. “A vampire attack?”

“No,” he said. “Of course not. I’d just like to be on that trail with you. What’s the harm of waiting a day?”

But I decided that going back to the Lost Mine Trail for the first time was something I needed to do alone. I needed to be by myself when I went to the place where I’d last seen Stacey. I wasn’t sure what emotions might overtake me or how I’d feel. And I think a part of me wanted a chance to say goodbye.

So here I am now, and the only emotion overtaking me is fear. The trail is darkening quickly. It’s been taking me by surprise lately, how soon the light fades in the evenings, as fall gives way to winter. The sun is already behind Mount Lithia, casting shadows over the trees. Wisps of fog drift between the treetops.

I hear another noise, to the right of me in the brush, and I freeze, listening. I peer into the bushes, straining my eyes to see what’s there. The way noise carries here, it could be something as small as a lizard or as large as a deer. It could be a bear. Or a vampire.

But then the woods go silent again.

I decide to turn back toward town. Still nervous, my head turns at every noise, every sign of movement. I wish I’d waited for Alex. I wish that, instead of my teasing tone, I’d confessed that I do think there might be vampires here in Lithia, and that one of them might have killed our friend.

But I don’t want to encourage Alex. What if he makes a connection? I think a vampire killed Stacey. He thinks Roman is a vampire. What if he jumps to conclusions? He already has it in for Roman.

And I still don’t believe what Alex says about Roman. I can’t tell Alex this, because of how I know. I know Roman isn’t a vampire because of that night we kissed in the costume room. If he was a vampire, that was his chance to kill me—and he didn’t.

Still, I’m confused. As much as I want to see Roman again, I don’t think he wants to see me. And Alex and I are becoming so close. He makes me feel special in an entirely different way, in a way that maybe I like even more. Once, after a particularly fast climb up to 4,000 feet, he said, “I think you could actually win Cloudline.”

It sounds crazy, but being told I’m strong makes me feel even better than being told I’m beautiful.

Of course, now I don’t feel so strong. I try to pick up my pace, to get out of these mountains and back to town, but my legs are worn out. I slow down, then finally stop and walk for a while. I hear more sounds—creatures? other runners? the wind?—and start to run again, my fear overcoming my frayed muscles.

I’ve got my head down, focused on my feet, on putting one in front of the other, even as it’s getting so dark I can hardly see them. I think of my mother. She wouldn’t be frightened out here. She loved nature. She’d never been afraid of animals or anything else when she went out on the trails.

But maybe she should have been.

I tell myself to keep pushing, that I’ll be off the trail again in another half-mile. I lift up my head to see where I am, how far I have to go—and then I see him.

I stop short. Standing in front of me on the trail, as if expecting me, is a handsome young man in a dark suit. It’s so dark he could be mistaken for a short, branchless tree, and I blink to make sure I’m not hallucinating. But he’s still there, looking completely out of place. This I never expected—a stranger in a suit. I’d have been less surprised to see a bear. Maybe less surprised to see even a vampire.

“Hello, Katherine,” the man says.

I stare at him. Does the fact that he knows my name mean that I should be relieved, or more scared? The voice does sound familiar, but I can’t place his face, especially in all this darkness.

“You don’t remember me? I’m hurt. Though I was wearing quite a bit of makeup when you saw me last.”

Now I know. “Victor.”

“You’re quite a runner,” he says. “You almost had me perspiring.”

“You were following me?”

“I was indeed.”

I look him over, wondering if he’s the one who followed me in town. As he walks toward me, I wonder how I didn’t recognize him. He’s got such a distinctive look, so tall and dark and intense—nothing like the everyday look of that balding man in town.

Victor steps closer, and I notice the glow of two alabaster canines overlapping his lower lip.

“You must really like your costume,” I say.

“Pardon?”

“You may have taken off your makeup,” I say, “but I see you’ve kept your fangs.”

“These?” He reaches up and pulls on one. It doesn’t move. “These, my dear Katherine, are real.”

He takes another step toward me, and automatically I step backward, away from him. Doug was right, I realize with alarm. There are vampires in these hills, and I am face-to-face with one of them.

I try to match every step Victor takes toward me with a step in reverse. And I try to stay calm, which isn’t easy. But I can’t let him know that.

“So you don’t just play a vampire on Halloween,” I say, hoping that if I keep him talking he won’t hurt me. “You’re real.”

“Very observant, Katherine.”

He’s moving toward me more quickly, and I’m having a hard time backing up at the same pace, especially since I’m scared to turn my back on him.

“Don’t be afraid,” he says.

“What do you want?”

“What does it look like? I’m here for you, my dear. Don’t worry. It won’t hurt.”

I trip over a tree root, but I pick myself up right away and scramble backward a few more feet. Victor is moving slowly, like someone about to savor his first bite of food. Which, apparently, will be me. My heart is racing faster than it ever has during a run.

“Did you kill Stacey?” I ask him, the question popping into my mind suddenly.

“I’ve killed many people, Katherine. It’s what I do.”

He’s closer to me now, but this happens so quickly I don’t know how he got here. He’s twenty feet away in one moment, and right in front of me the next, and he doesn’t wobble on the unstable terrain. It’s as if he’s floating toward me, and I know that no matter how fast I run, I will not be able to escape.

But I run anyway.

I turn my back to him and sprint through a patch of trees, down to where I can re-enter the trail. And now I’m the one who seems to be floating—I’m running as hard as I’ve ever run in my life, not aware of the pain in my legs from just a few minutes ago. Not aware of anything but outrunning this creature who’s close on my heels.

I’m waiting for a hand on my back, a pain in my neck, for something to clasp me from behind—but I make it to the trail, and I keep going. Maybe he’s going to let me go. Could it be? Or could it be that this is all a set-up—a practical joke orchestrated by Roman? Or even Alex, to teach me a lesson?

I come to another turn, taking it fast, and nearly tumble down a steep incline. But I’m making progress. I can sense freedom.

Then I look up, and again he is standing in front of me. I skid to a stop and fall to the ground on my knees, my head at his feet. I don’t look up. I can’t. I feel him lifting me to my feet, and I don’t resist. When I’m back on my feet, I look up. His face is now glowing, the fangs overlapping his lower lip.

“You killed Stacey, didn’t you?” I say. “Please, just tell me. I need to know.”

“Ask her yourself.” He grabs my shoulders and opens his jaws, and I feel his body rising up to strike. I hear a hissing noise. I shut my eyes.

“Victor!” It is Roman’s voice, and it hits us like a strong gust of wind. I feel Victor release his grip.

I back away, opening my eyes. Victor has his back to me now, facing Roman. Roman’s eyes, like Victor’s, seem to glow, with their laser-beam focus on Victor.

“Leave her alone,” Roman says.

“You had your opportunity.”

“It’s not her time.”

Victor laughs. “Roman, she is not a fine wine. You can’t keep her on the shelf forever. She’s perishable. You should enjoy her now, while she’s ripe.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Playing games again is what you’re doing.” Victor turns around. He walks toward me, and I stand absolutely still as he steps behind me and puts his ice-cold hand on my shoulder. I close my eyes again.

“If you hurt her,” Roman says, “I will hurt you.”

Victor smiles, as if to taunt Roman. “Twice the pain. Twice the sorrow.”

As fast as lightning, Roman leaps toward us, and then I feel Victor’s hand lift from my shoulder. I spin around, and behind me, Roman has Victor up against a tree, his hands around Victor’s neck.

“I’m serious this time,” Roman says.

“Indeed,” Victor chokes out through his constrained windpipe. “Indeed you are.”

Roman releases his grip and turns to me.

I have inched my way to the edge of the trail, and I turn to look down, into a thick forest, onto a sharp incline. I know if I careen down this incline, I will find the trail again, but from here it doesn’t switch back again for at least fifty yards of steep, dense forest. I will be scratched and bruised and broken and maybe worse. But it’s my only chance.

Then Roman is standing in front of me, arms outstretched, prepared to stop me.

“I’m sorry you had to witness this, Katherine. This was not how I imagined things.”

“So Alex was right,” I say. “He was right all along. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“How could I have told you?”

Victor comes toward us, rubbing his neck, which now has deep black bruises. “Roman, it is time. You know what must be done.”

I can see Roman wrestling with some inner struggle—that same tortured look he often wears. It’s a sad and haunting look, and I might feel sorry for him if my life weren’t hanging in the balance.

“Why?” he asks.

“You know very well why,” says Victor. “There will be others.”

“Will there?”

“There always are,” Victor says. But I can tell by Roman’s expression that he isn’t convinced. Victor is closer now.

“If you won’t, I will,” he says.

“Stop!” Roman holds up an arm, and Victor stops. “I need to think.”

But before he gets a chance to think, I leap forward—and then I am in the woods, sprinting downhill at breakneck speed, wind howling in my ears, arms outstretched to dodge the trees. My legs can’t keep up with the downhill trajectory, and I trip and roll downward, feeling branches cutting my arms and legs, tearing my clothes. I manage to catch myself, scramble to my feet, and keep running. I reach the trail, cross it, and lurch back into the woods to cut to the next switchback. How many more until I reach the main road?

Then I hit a tree, and as I pull myself up once again, I see that it’s not a tree—it’s Victor, blocking my way. I let myself drop back to the ground, my head fuzzy with exhaustion. I’m not sure I even have room left for fear.

“Roman is weak,” Victor says, looking down at me hungrily. “But I suppose love will do that to you.”

He kneels, and I realize then that I am spent, that I have no energy left.

That my endurance has run out at last.

A part of me thinks that maybe it’s meant to be this way. If this is how Stacey died, maybe it’s the way I am supposed to die, too. Maybe it was supposed to have been me all along.

I see Victor’s greedy eyes turn toward my neck, and his mouth opens, revealing his fangs. I watch him moving in, closer and closer.

And finally I give in.

I lean back, exposing my neck.