The Impossible Adventure Page 7

  Oops, I forgot to scream.

  You die.

  To continue, click here.

  “You asshole, you promised!” Paige screams.

  Behind your curled body, chains clank. You struggle to peel your dry eyes open. It’s like you’ve been sleeping for days, weeks even. But you’re not well-rested in the least, not after all those nightmares stalking you every minute.

  Your fingers massage your throbbing temples. You try to swallow, but your mouth is drier than dust. At last you pry your eyes open.

  A pockmarked ceiling greets you. You shift to your side, then push yourself up into a seated position. Your hands rest against the damp cement floor. You scan around you.

  Even though it’s dark as night, you see everything in horrifying detail. You’re in a long, low room. A shadowy hallway is centered on a whitewashed wall opposite you. Its paint is peeling, revealing the russet color of the bricks beneath it. At the far end of the room are sliding doors with more than a few glass panes broken. They’re shut, although there’s no lock. The remaining two walls are blank. No windows, no hallways, no doors. No way out.

  Dirt and rodent droppings litter the floor underneath you. Termites munch on the rotted wood panels at the base of the walls. Rooted into the ground are steel rings, through which greasy chains are looped. They attach to the locked handcuffs over your wrists and ankles. Not twenty feet away, Paige crouches, trussed up the same.

  Her face whips toward you. Her oily hair whirls about her in tangled locks that are almost black. Paige growls at you with her fangs bared.

  Your gums throb. Canines of your own jut into your lower lip. Your fingers dart up to touch them.

  “Yes, they’re real,” a voice booms. A figure emerges from the hallway. He saunters toward you, then stops two yards away.

  With your fingers still poking at your fangs, you assess your chains. He’s inches out of your reach. Not that it matters; he’s your master now.

  When he grins, it’s more like a snarl. He flashes his own canines. “Nice of you to join us this fine evening.”

  Your fingers fall away from your fangs. You accept them as real, but you can’t quite put it together. “W-what happened?”

  He leers at you, his almond eyes crinkling with amusement. A hand waves toward Paige. “Why don’t you tell the story, Paige?”

  Paige snaps her jaw.

  His finger wags at her. “Uh-uh-uh. Let’s not forget who’s in charge here.”

  Paige glares at him as she backs up to the wall behind you. She moves along it until her chains are taut, until she’s as far away as possible from you. Then she squats down and angles herself toward you. “Listen…I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I brought you into this.” Her ebony eyes find your master. She scowls at him. “He was supposed to leave me alone, but as you can see, he didn’t.” Paige raises her handcuffed wrists.

  Still you don’t understand. “Paige, what are you talking about?”

  Paige rolls her eyes. “You never were the sharpest tool in the shed, were you? All those missing people, I delivered them to him.” Her head tilts in your master’s direction.

  His grin grows wider.

  Awe, hatred, and fear war within you.

  Oblivious to your inner battle, Paige continues, “His name’s Khan by the way. Or at least that’s what he told me to call him. Anyway, you were asking too many questions, so we had to get rid of you. You know, tie up loose ends. Unfortunately, I was a loose end too.” Paige shifts toward Khan. She gestures to her new tattoo, visible through a ripped sleeve. “I thought this was supposed to protect me. Which, if you recall, was the only way I agreed to go along with your plan.”

  A bark of a laugh erupts from Khan. “And if you recall, I am a vampire, child. I don’t tell the truth. Though now that you’re one of us, I’ll admit it. Not even the Clan possesses magic that can create a tattoo to protect humans from us. You were foolish to trust me.”

  Your brows collapse with frustration. You need them to get back to the point. “Wait, so, Paige, you’ve been delivering people to this…this monster?”

  She meets your gaze without a speck of remorse. “Yes.”

  “And I was one of them?”

  Paige’s wide mouth twitches toward a frown. “Not exactly. I knew I’d never be able to keep you from the truth, so…I mean, yeah, I guess. But I didn’t mean to! I thought it was either you or me—”

  “And it ended up being you and me,” you interrupt.

  Paige stares at her clasped hands. “Yes.”

  At last you put the pieces together. The new canines, the thirst, the last few moments of your life… “And now we’re vampires?”

  “Yes. Which…” A ghost of a smile plays over Paige’s chapped lips. “Which is kinda cool, right? When you think about it?”

  “Yeah, I—”

  “Enough!” Khan cuts you off, his voice sharp as a knife. He stalks forward with a naked blade in one hand. When he steps toward Paige, the dagger extends toward her.

  Paige shrinks away from it, pressing her body against the brick wall.

  Khan grabs her hand and wrenches it toward him. He lays the blade flat against her forearm.

  Paige shudders.

  As Khan unlocks Paige’s manacles, he commands, “Paige, tell our new friend here about this nice li’l weapon.”

  The whites of Paige’s eyes flash. She gulps. “Whatever you do, don’t let it cut you. It burns like a mother.”

  “Exactly right.” Khan finishes with Paige’s handcuffs, then stalks toward you. The blade darts near your wrist, impossibly fast.

  You’re faster. You jerk your wrist away.

  Khan’s fang-filled smile gleams in the darkness. “Good. You learn quick.” His hot breath tickles your neck when he whispers, “Maybe I’ll pick you instead of her.”

  Like with Paige, Khan lays the blade along your forearm, then unlocks your shackles. You don’t dare one breath while that dagger touches you. Once you’re free, Khan shoves the knife back into the waistband of his faded jeans. He walks to the center of the floor, midway between you and Paige.

  There, his hands rise. His voice booms into the empty room like he’s an announcer in the Colosseum. “Now, my lovelies, it’s time for you to fight. Paige, you want to survive? This is your final test, then we shall ride off into the sunset. So to speak, anyway.” He shifts toward you. “And you, you’re mad about Paige sacrificing you to save herself? You’re mad about Paige killing all those innocent people? Kill her and move on with your eternal life.”

  Paige glares at you, then bends down. Her fingers wrap around a loose chain.

  Do you take advantage of Paige’s distraction and attack first? Or do you try to talk Paige out of it?

  If you attack Paige first, click here.

  If you try to talk Paige out of it, click here.

  “Julia, I’ll be right in.” Mimicking Paige, you wave your phone at her. “I just need to check on something really quick.”

  “Oh, um, okay.” Julia frowns at you, but heads in with the rest of the students crowding the entryway.

  You turn away and weave through your classmates, battling the current flowing into NFHS. When you reach the corner where Paige disappeared, you flatten yourself against the brick wall like you’re James Bond.

  But wait, isn’t this super obvious? Deciding that it is, you cross your legs at the ankle and scroll through your phone as if you’re waiting for someone.

  Paige’s voice reaches your ears. “You have to be more careful. I don’t know how much longer I can cover for you… No, my friend’s dad heard of a missing person today… No, my mom didn’t say anything about it to me… I don’t think she suspects anything. I think she’s just trying to shelter me…”

  Your jaw drops. Paige can’t…no, she can’t possibly be talking to…and yet…

  You slide down the wall. Your limp backpack catches on the rough brick. Your fingers comb through your hair. How can this be?

  You sit there, numb i
n shock.

  Seconds, minutes, or hours later, a pair of beaded sandals appears before you. Your eyes travel up bare legs, a floral skirt, and a tight V-neck. Lined gray eyes—matching her shirt—meet you. They’re narrowed.

  Paige’s hands dig into her waist. One hip juts out. “Just how long have you been sitting there?”

  At her annoyed tone, indignation flows through your veins. You scramble to your feet. Your fingers wrap around Paige’s bicep. “Paige, what’s going on?” More fear than anger makes it into your voice.

  She tears her arm away. “Nothing. Let’s just go.” She rushes away from you, back toward the entrance of NFHS.

  You catch up to her in a single stride. “Paige, you can tell me. I promise.”

  Paige’s lips press into a line of uncertainty, but her gaze remains flinty. “And if I don’t?”

  “You know me. I won’t let it go. You’ll have to tell me eventually.”

  Paige sighs. “I s’pose so…” Her fingers wheedle around your elbow, then squeeze. “Why don’t we chat tonight at the library?”

  “At the library?” The basement of the library is a prime makeout spot in Fruitvale. It’s second only to Corner Coffee’s back booths, which are obviously off-limits to you. But why does Paige want to talk there?

  “Yeah, so you can tell your parents we’re studying. I’ll pick you up around nine. Sound good?”

  “Um, okay.”

  The school day is long and filled with boring classes that fail to keep you mind off your appointment with Paige. The only diversion is a spurt of gossip that both Magda and Davey are leaving Fruitvale already. Not even that can distract you for long. When you get home, you watch mindless TV show after mindless TV show, punctuated only by a family dinner during which you say little and eat less.

  Beep-beep! Beep!

  “Dad, I’m heading out with Paige. I’ll be back by curfew,” you yell into the kitchen.

  “Okay. Don’t forget to pick up your bike,” your dad calls as you hurry out the door.

  You stop short on the front porch. You expected Mrs. Torres’s station wagon. Instead, Paige sits in an ancient black Corvette with the top down. You hop into the red leather passenger seat before the impatient Paige can initiate a second round of honking.

  Paige tightens the handkerchief protecting her hair from the wind. Her hazel eyes sparkle. “You ready?” Not waiting for your answer, Paige slams down the gas pedal. The tires peel out as she whips around the corner, toward State Ave.

  You suck in a breath. Your nails dig into the arm rests. Paige is not a careful driver. “W-where’d you get the car, Paige?”

  “From a friend.” Paige flashes a grin. “So…do you wanna get a snack first? You hungry?”

  Your stomach rumbles.

  “I knew it! Don’t worry, we’ll get you taken care of.” Paige winks at you.

  Almost ten blocks away from downtown Fruitvale, Paige pulls down a side street and parks the car. “Sorry ’bout the walk. You know I’m not very good at parallel parking. My friend’ll be pissed if I get even a scratch on his baby.” After caressing the scratched hood, Paige heads toward downtown.

  Good luck noticing one more. “Speaking of which, who is this new ‘friend’ of yours, Paige?”

  “Oh, he’s wonnnnn-derful. Dark, broody, older, all the classic romance signs. Although, I’m not quite sure he’s my type.” Despite the disclaimer, Paige extols his virtues while you meander down side street after side street, wending your way toward downtown.

  By the time the streets become lanes between the backs of quiet townhomes, jealousy fills your empty stomach. You fight to keep it out of your tone. “And how’d you meet him?”

  “He found me.”

  That’s…weird. “What do you mean, he found you?”

  Paige wears a sad smile. “Listen, I am sorry about this.”

  “Sorry? What—”

  A body slams into your side. You crash onto the rocky asphalt. Talons slash your abdomen, tracing your ribs. Daggers of pain stab through your torso, then radiate through your body. Every breath is agony. Tears spring to your eyes.

  Rough hands flip you onto your back. Your skull bounces off the unyielding ground. Stars in the night sky swirl above the townhomes looming over you.

  A man with greasy locks blocks them out. His pitch-black eyes swallow the lamp light. Canines almost an inch long poke through his lips. They shine so white it hurts your eyes.

  Like a boa constrictor, fear winds around your torso and squeezes. It’s the same man from last night.

  He leers at you, then darts to your neck. The movement is nothing but a blur. Twin knives puncture your throat.

  Your life drains away.

  Oops, I forgot to scream.

  To continue, click here.

  Taking advantage of Khan’s distraction with the cot, you flee down the length of the basement to reach the sliding doors with the broken glass panes. You fling one door down its track, then vault through the opening. By the time the door clatters against the brick wall, you’re bounding up the cement steps, jumping them three at a time.

  A lit street light peeks through a glass door one flight up. You burst through the door and enter the night. Your feet pound against the pavement. You push your legs faster and faster, paying no attention to where you’re going. Wherever you end up, you’re going to get there fast.

  Seconds, minutes, or hours later, you listen to the evening noises. Below the hum of rushed cars, there is only one set of footfalls: yours. No one follows you.

  You slow to a stop and look around. You’re just past the outskirts of Fruitvale. Avoiding the warehouse district, you double back. Your feet find their way to Paige’s house at the end of a cul-de-sac. Without rustling a single twig or pine needle, you wriggle your way into the copse of trees separating one dead-end street from another. Despite the late hour, Paige’s window is bright yellow, a spotlight amid black-as-night windows.

  You search the pockets of your stained shorts, but your phone is missing. Frowning, you scan the thicket for an idea. Given how late it is, you don’t want to knock on the front door. An instinct whispers that it wouldn’t be a good idea anyway.

  Your eye catches on pebbles silver as the stars above, scattered around your worn sneakers. You pick one up and toss it toward Paige’s gilded window. It hits dead center. You pick up another. Again, dead-on. You throw a third. It taps against the exact same place, only this time the window pane fractures. Circular cracks form a bull’s-eye around your target. Oops.

  Paige’s window unlatches. When two slim hands heft it up, it scrapes against its frame. You glance at the houses surrounding you, but there is no movement, no lights flickering on. When you return to the window, Paige peers out into the night, her dark hair stringy and loose, her hazel eyes red and puffy.

  You step out from the trees and wave. You don’t make a sound.

  Paige’s square jaw drops. She bends farther out the window, squinting at you. Her index finger rises for a moment, then she eases the window shut. Even so, it’s louder than a car door slamming. Still, not one of Paige’s nosy neighbors bats an eye.

  Two and a half minutes later, Paige—clad in koala pajamas—stands in front of you. Her fingers reach up to stroke your cheek.

  You lean into her caress.

  “I can’t…I can’t believe it. I mean, I knew it was a possibility, but I didn’t dare hope…” Paige’s husky voice trails off and she offers you a watery smile. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”

  Your gums pulse. You wrap your lips around your growing canines.

  “Although…I have to admit…” Paige’s bloodshot eyes meet yours. “I am sorry he found you that night. I never meant for it to happen to you.”

  You remain silent.

  Paige steps closer. Her fingers dance over your forearm. Through long lashes, she looks up at you, then whispers, “Do you forgive me?”

  Paige’s blood pulses through her veins. A perfume sweeter than a bouquet of r
oses, than the darkest chocolate, than the most delectable coffee, curls up your nose.

  Your mouth waters. Your canines poke against your clenched lips.

  You can’t hold it back any longer.

  You lunge down. Your fangs sink into Paige’s throat. Hot syrup with a hint of lavender and blackberries fills your mouth almost faster than you can swallow.

  When Paige gurgles “I guess I deserve this,” it barely registers. You drain her dry.

  Three days later, you pace in front of Paige’s limp body a hundred miles away from Fruitvale. Probably too close, but it’s hard to travel with a corpse. Like Khan, you found an abandoned warehouse to wait it out, although you have no idea when to give up on Paige. Maybe you should have stayed with him, at least long enough to get some questions answered.

  But it’s too late for that now. Your front teeth worry your lower lip. Your gaze pins itself to Paige’s body once more. She lies on the area of the cement floor you cleared of dust, grime, and rodent droppings. Her hands are folded over her waist, her dark locks smoothed over her bony shoulders. She reminds you of Sleeping Beauty or Snow White, but in koala pajamas.

  Paige gasps. Her eyes—now ebony—flutter open.

  You drop to your knees beside her. Your hand strokes Paige’s sunken cheek.

  Paige croaks, “Am I…”

  You finish the sentence for her. “A vampire. Yes, I think so. Although, it’s pretty new to me too.” Your canines flash in the lamp light flitting through a high window.

  Paige sits up. She interlaces her fingers with yours.

  Your stomach flips. Nothing has ever felt so good…well, except for drinking Paige’s blood. Your fangs throb at the memory. Your mouth salivates. Needing to focus on something else until the murderous urge melts away, you shift back to Paige and her transformation. “How are you feeling?”

  Paige squeezes your hand, then releases it. Arching her back, she stretches her arms over her head. Her spine pops and cracks. When she returns to you at last, her obsidian eyes sparkle. “Great.”

  You stand and pull Paige to her feet with both hands. She clings to your side, wrapping her fingers around your bicep.