Chapter 26

*In keeping with my cover tradition, I this weeks lovely creation comes from the very talented walkingXonXstars.  (her stories are amazing guys!)

If you want to make me a cover, I'm still accepting new ones.  Just message me!

I worked on this chapter late last night and then woke up early to edit it again, but I *know* I missed some things.  I just didn't want to delay anymore--so some things might be a little off.

Don't be rude about it, just point them out and I will fix them.  As always, let me know if something doesn't make sense.

Thanks for reading!*

Chapter 26

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They drove in utter silence.  It was odd—for a moment, they could have been some bizarre family on a scenic drive through the mountains.

If it wasn’t for the fact that their car was careening down the road as if trying to match the speed of light.

Or that the driver had ruby red eyes that glared through the windshield like lasers.

Or, the fact that Miriam, for whatever reason, was currently locked inside of said car against her will.

She was almost relieved when Eliot finally broke the silence.

“Where are we going?”  He snarled to Lizzie, who—despite everything—seemed totally at ease.  She was smiling; Miriam could see her pale face reflected in the side-view mirror.

It was as if they had just come from a candy shop rather than a hospital—where, as of two days ago, she had been lying motionless on the permanent coma floor.

“The house of course,” she replied in that wispy voice.

“The house?”  Eliot’s scoff echoed throughout the back seat like a gunshot.

Miriam had to clutch her seatbelt as the car jerked sharply to the right, as he  ripped his gaze away for the road to glare at his sister.

“Are you insane?”

“Of course, darling,” Lizzie replied breezily. “But, I’ve already paid off the mortgage.”

Eliot didn’t really seem to care about something as trivial as money.  The dark look he shot Lizzie from over his shoulder was searing enough to melt steel.

“What the hell are you planning Alazzdria—”

“Lizzie,” the girl corrected sternly.  “Remember?”

Miriam didn’t miss the way she inclined her head sharply to the back seat—almost as if to say; watch what you say around her.

She didn’t miss the way Eliot’s gaze flickered up to the rear-view mirror either.  Those amber eyes met hers grimly in the glass.  He frowned, as if remembering she was even there.

“Fine,” he growled, wrenching the steering wheel so that the car swerved back to the center.

“Excellent!”  Lizzie clapped her hands like a spoiled child and beamed.  “They wouldn’t dare attack so soon anyway,” she added smugly.  “You know they have to follow their silly little protocols.”

Somehow, Miriam figured that she wasn't just talking about doctors or the hospital staff.

Not for the first time, she wondered just what the hell was going on.

“Excuse me?”  She piped up as loud as she dared from the backseat.

Her fingers were shaking over the straps of her backpack, but she tried not to show it.  Maybe if she played along with their little game, they might finally give her a clue?

It was worth a shot.

But, at the sound of her voice, Eliot didn’t even spare a glance in her direction.

Lizzie however, shifted around on her seat.  Those gray eyes sparkled—and if it wasn’t for the fact that she stared at a spot a little too far to the right from Miriam’s head, she might have forgotten that the girl was even blind.

“Yes?”

“What…”  Miriam had to break off and take a deep breath just to make sure that her voice didn’t come out a frantic scream.  It was hard though.

Especially watching Lizzie smile strangely into space as if nothing in the world was wrong.

“What’s going on?”

“Hmm?”  Lizzie cocked her head to the side.

“Why…”  Again, Miriam had to choose her words carefully.

Something told her that she wouldn’t get too far with things like; why the hell aren’t you still in the hospital, when you very obviously seem brain-damaged?

Why did you kidnap me?

In the end, she simply settled for, “Why are we speeding down the highway?”

“Oh.”  Lizzie shrugged her thin shoulders.  “To escape them of course.”

“Escape…w-what?”

The answer was so unexpected Miriam had to pinch herself just to make sure that she wasn’t hallucinating; that this whole crazy experience wasn’t some new variation on a seizure.

That she hadn't gone insane.

Surprise, surprise—when she opened her eyes again, nothing had changed.

Lizzie was still grinning, and Eliot still looked murderous as he navigated the winding road.

“Whose…them?” She added weakly.

For once, the a bit of real fear flickered across Lizzie’s face—but just as quickly another alarming smile displaced it.

“They’re called—”

“Watch it,” Eliot warned, clenching the steering wheel to that point that Miriam was afraid it might snap in half..  “Don’t you dare…”

Lizzie barely paid him any mind.  “The Mafia,” she declared.

“The…Mafia?”

Miriam did pinch herself that time.  Just hard enough on the end of her wrist to make sure she had heard correctly.

“Yes.”  Lizzie nodded, solemnly.  “The Mafia.  They’re after me, I’m afraid.”

Miriam didn’t know whether to take her seriously or to laugh.  She tried looking at Eliot again, for a clue as to how she should react, but his face was infuriatingly blank.

All she could do was hope that she didn’t sound like an idiot as she nodded sympathetically.  “The Mafia…in Wafter’s Point?”

Lizzie reached up to tuck a piece of dark hair behind her ear.  “I led them here, actually,” she explained, in a voice as light as air.  “It was an accident—I stole something you see.  Apparently, they want it back.”

“You stole something,” Miriam repeated, cocking her head to the side.  “From the Mafia?”

“More or less.”  Lizzie shrugged, moving that empty gaze to stare serenely at a section of upholstery.  “I thought I would be safe at the hospital, you see—but they found me anyway.  Which is why we just had to leave as soon as possible.”

The girl’s voice was so earnest, that Miriam almost had trouble not believing her…

Until heard Eliot’s exasperated sigh.

“Knock it off,” he snapped.

“Oh?”  Lizzie giggled and covered her mouth with a pale hand.  “But I having so much fun!”

Miriam drew back, realizing that she’d been teased this whole time.  Strangely though, she wasn’t annoyed—instead she felt more …relieved.

She couldn't ignore that, for a brief moment, Lizzie had seemed truly terrified; as if someone or something really was after her.

And, though he wouldn’t glance in her direction, she could tell that even Eliot was uneasy.  Hell, to prove it, he was still speeding even as they crossed the border into town.

It was as if he was trying to put as much distance as he possibly could between the three of them and…something else.

But Lizzie’s cackling laughter distracted her from thinking too much on it.

“I’m sorry Miriam.”  She grinned mischievously.  “You made it so easy.”

“Oh…it’s okay.”  Miriam tried forcing a bit of fake laughter herself, but it didn’t come out right; ha...ha…ha…

It was only when Lizzie turned around to face the front, that she realized the girl had never really answered her question.  But before she could gather the strength to ask again, the car came hurtling to a stop.

"Home sweet home," Lizzie chirped.

Glancing up, Miriam almost shivered as she took in the image through the tinted glass.

Just beyond the windshield loomed a massive black house that seemed to ooze dark mystery into the atmosphere.

“Marvelous!”  Lizzie seemed to brim with energy as she pushed open her door and slid from the seat.

Miriam could only watch through the window, dazed, as the girl stood on bare feet in the snow and threw her head back with a sigh.

“It feels so good to be out of that wretched place.”

“That’s nice,” Eliot snarled sarcastically as he shoved open his own door.  “Now get inside before someone sees you.”

“There’s nobody around to see me,” Lizzie replied confidently, shaking out her black hair.  “This place is emptier than your soul, Eliot darling.”

Miriam flinched, glancing around the other houses, before she realized that it was probably true.

Her house was empty.

The others were deserted.

Even the crime scene on the other side of the complex was cleared of police officers.

There really was no one else around.

Without responding, Eliot marched to the back of the car and ripped open the door.  Miriam jumped, as he reached for her with those pale fingers, but he only snatched Lizzie’s bag from the seat and tossed it over his shoulder.

“I have your bag,” he told her.  “Now, get in the house.”

“Fine,” Lizzie said, turning in the direction of the massive black Victorian.  “But I’m not staying in there.”

Exasperated, Eliot rolled his eyes.  “Then where?”

“The guest house,” she said, inclining her head toward a small hill in the back where a tiny stone cottage stood surrounded by ice-covered trees.  “I’ve made a list of things that I shall need you to bring out to me,” she added, pulling a sliver of paper from her sweatshirt pocket.

Eliot’s voice was a scoff.  “You made a list?”

Lizzie shrugged.  “Well, I had one of the nurses write it down, but it’s just the same.  I need you to transfer every item, if you please.”

Eliot looked skeptical as he snatched the paper from her hand.  “Why?”

Lizzie gave him a chilling, secretive smile.  “All in good time, my darling Eliot.  Now do hurry.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel, slipping through the snow.

On bare feet.

Shakily, Miriam turned back to Eliot, who held the piece of paper between two fingers as though it were something nasty.  That ruby gaze scanned the page with barely any interest.

After about a second, he glanced up after Lizzie with a scoff.  “The radiator?”

“It’s necessary,” she replied, without turning around, as she made her way carefully through the snow.

Her skin was so pale, that she almost seemed to blend in with the icy white, until Miriam couldn’t tell where the snow ended and the girl began.

The gray sweats were the only thing giving her any dimension at all against the white—that and her hair.

Glaring, Eliot crumbled the note into a fist and shoved it in his pocket.  “I’ll do it later,” he snarled, sparing a wary glance at the sky.

It had started to snow, Miriam realized following his gaze.  Thick, feathery drops were already falling down to dust the hood of the car in a thin layer of white.

But that didn’t seem nearly threatening enough to have Eliot shifting uneasily on his feet, rubbing at the skin of his arms.

“I’d prefer you do it now,” Lizzie called from over her shoulder.

To Miriam’s surprise, she was nearly hallway toward the hill, seemingly unbothered by the snow falling down to brush her sweatshirt, not to mention the fact that it was freezing out.

Eliot growled between his teeth.  “I’ll do it tonight.”

This time, Lizzie didn’t even slow down.  “The early bird gets the worm, Eliot,” she scolded on a cackle.  “…Have Miriam help you, if you’re so worried.”

Miriam flinched as that amber gaze, swiveled on her—but for once, she wasn’t nervous or afraid.

Merely…curious.

She couldn't help wondering just what could be so important in that dusty, black house that Lizzie needed it right away.

Besides, anything was better than going back to hiding in her room.  Now that he was no longer keeping her prisoner in his car, the thought of marching across the grove, to her huge empty house, didn’t seem as ideal as it had before.

If she wanted to rationalize it, then well he had barged into her house—why not return the favor?

“I…I don’t mind helping,” she stammered, climbing uneasily to her feet.

Eliot didn’t answer.

He turned and marched up the icy, overgrown path to the main house.  Without thinking, Miriam followed him.

The large, wrap-around porch was bigger than the one in front of her house.  The ancient wood creaked ominously beneath her boots as she mounted the steps in Eliot’s shadow.

Even the door seemed larger.  It was thick and carved of a black oak that gleamed like ebony against the backdrop of snow.

She watched as Eliot palmed the handle, only to realize she was behind him as he shoved the door open.

“Stay here,” he growled, before slipping into the shadows that lined a massive entryway.

But he left the door open behind him.

Curious, Miriam craned her head, watching the shadows play against a dust covered floor.

It looked as though the past tenants had been The Adams family—everything, from the wallpaper, to the furniture, seemed colored in shades of gray and black.

Antique fruniture was everywhere.  Ironically, though it had lain empty longer than her house had, it seemed more lived in.

Even with cobwebs covering every surface.

Catiously, she followed Eliot inside, feeling the need to tip-toe over the dust-covered floor.

She didn’t know why, but this house didn’t seem quite as empty as hers did.  The back of her neck prickled, and she couldn’t escape the uneasy feeling that, even though there seemed to be no one else there, they weren’t alone…

“I thought I told you to stay outside?”  She flinched as an icy grip clenched over her forearm, staring her through the sleeve of his jacket.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered.

Glancing up, she saw that Eliot held her with one hand, while balancing a pile of dusty objects in the other.  From what she could make out, it was all junk; an old-fashioned radio, a flashlight, an a wide flat box crawling with cobwebs.

Before she could make sense of it, he glared, dragging her back out onto the porch, and wrestling the door closed behind him.

“I just—”

“Here.”  He shoved something into her arms before taking off down the steps and through the snow toward the guest house.

Confused, she glanced down to find the sturdy radio clutched between her palms.   Helplessly, her gaze trailed back up to Eliot, who didn't even aknowledge that he'd given her anything at all.

But, when she didn’t follow, he glanced at her impatiently and jabbed his chin the direction of the guest house.  Move.

Without thinking, Miriam followed, shifting the heavy object to the crook of her elbow and shuffled after him.

She had to give Lizzie credit, she realized, as she trudged after Eliot with all the ease of running through quicksand.

The snow from yesterday had hardened into an icy crust that felt like glass beneath her rain boots. Not to mention the wintry chill lashed at the skin bared beneath her dress.

She felt like an old woman as she huddled against the wind.

Though, peeking through her hair, she saw that Eliot seemed to have no problem moving through the thick drifts.

He was already several feet in front of her, and she was slipping…

“Hey!”  She managed to squeak, as her fingers began to lose grip on the radio.

He didn’t turn, and just kept walking—leaving her to waddle precariously through the ice until the heel of her boot slipped on a slick patch.  Without warning, she went sprawling backwards.

Umf!

The radio laded hard in her lap and the hem of her dress went flying up, leaving her bare skin unprotect from the shocking kiss of the cold.

Unsurprisingly, Eliot did turn around then.  He was watching as she stared up dazed, tasting blood on her tongue.

Miriam didn’t know what she expected.

For him to move?

Help?

Just stand there with that unnervingly blank expression?

What he did, however, made her jaw drop in shock.

The corner of that pale mouth quirked up, and for once, real emotion glimmered in the depths of those red eyes; amusement.

It was the look a snake might wear as it watched a hapless mouth struggle through the weeds.

He didn’t laugh, but he wanted to.  She could tell it in the way he held his jaw clenched as though it ached.

Miriam wanted to be angry…but the more she tried, the harder it was to keep a straight face as an old memory flashed before her eyes.

She had been seven, and just like now it had been snowing in thick, heavy layers.  Their lawn had been covered in inches of it as though someone had spread down a cold batch of white icing.

Her mother had bundled her in so many scarves to go to school that day that she had waddled through the snow like a duck before collapsing in a heap just off the front porch.

Her mother had laughed, but rather than remove any layer, she had just added two extra scarves—just to make sure ‘my little duck is bundled up right.’

It was a stupid thing to remember—something that hadn’t made much of an impact the day it had happened.  But now, looking back, the image made her laugh out loud.

The sound shocked her; it had been so long since she really, truly laughed.

And she couldn’t stop.

Her stomach ached.

She couldn’t breathe.

In the end, she had to clutch at her abdomen  and gasp for air.

It had been a long time since she thought about those days—or any memory of her mother at all.

But beneath the laughter, was a burning, harsh pain that went deep.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Eliot stare.

He looked shocked.  Confused.

Finally he began to rush towards her—but it was only when her vision began to blur that she realized why.

She was crying.  Hugh tears were dripping down to smear her chin in cold wet.  Her bottom lip trembled, and the gasp of a sob lined each and every throaty laugh.

“Are you alright?”

She blinked as Eliot appeared before her.  Without warning, he leaned down, holding out those pale fingers.

“I’m fine,” She said.  Surprisingly, it was the truth.  They were sad tears she realized.  Just tears…

Easily wiped away by the back of her hand.

“I’m fine,” she repeated, glancing up.

The concern on his face shocked her.  He was practically down on one knee, arm outstretched above her body as if he wasn’t quite sure whether to touch her or not.

“Are you hurt?”  He insisted.

Miriam shook her head.  “No.”

But...he didn’t move.

His closeness was suffocating—affecting her worse than any heat ever could.  His chill went deeper than the snow.

Deeper than deep.

Colder than cold.

She shivered instinctively, feeling her teeth chatter together.

He needed to move away.  She knew she'd go insane if he just stayed there, staring at her like that.

Impulsively, she palmed a handful of snow, feeling the shock of ice on bare flesh zap through her like an electric shock.

It helped a little.

But in the end, even the cold wasn’t enough to clear the muddled thoughts running through her mind in rapid succession.

He’s so close…

Too close…

I want him closer…

Without thinking, she shoved her fingers deeper into the snow, curling around a handful of ice.

Then, mindlessly…

She threw it.

He blinked.  “What are you—”

It was impulse, really.  She wasn’t quite sure what made her do it.

Maybe the desire to knock Mr. no emotions down a peg or to?

Or maybe just to change the subject.

Either way, it felt incredibly rewarding to palm a ball of snow in her fist and lob it at that sweatered chest.

At first he stiffened--as if he’d been shot instead of just hit with a snowball.  Slowly, he glanced down at the explosion of ice shattered over the center of his chest.

That gaze shot back up.

Leaving his face the prime target for a second ball of snow that lobbed right off the side of that perfect nose.

He blinked, still shocked—only an amber glare quickly replaced it.

“What are you—”

Miriam silenced him with another toss that bounced off that brilliant red hair.

“You’re losing,” she said.

She didn’t know what made her do it—he certainly didn’t seem like the type up for a snowball fight.

But the look on his face…it was as if he didn’t even know what a snowball was.

As though he’d never had fun in his life.

As if he didn’t know how.

He just stared, even as another glob go snow glanced off his arm.

“One more hit and I win,” she taunted breathlessly.

But the fun lasted all of about two seconds.

She barely even saw him move.

But the next moment, she was pinned beneath him.  His hands were on her shoulders, pressing her down into the snow.

Shocked, she could only stare...

Up close those eyes were like embers holding her captive—but they weren’t what made her heart stop beating.

His teeth did.

Two of them to be exact; sharp, curved to deadly points, each dripping down from a corner of his mouth.

Fangs.