Page 39 of Bitten Vampire
The driver climbs out, pale and shaking. “I didn’t see him. He came out of nowhere from behind that parked car. If you hadn’t grabbed him… I—I would’ve killed him. I wouldn’t have stopped in time.”
My heart pounds. The vision was real.
“I think she’s in shock,” someone murmurs.
“I’m all right,” I say faintly. “Just… glad he’s safe.”
I wave awkwardly and walk back to my car. I climb in, buckle up, and pull away—carefully, shakily.
A few streets on, out of sight, I stop and sit while my heart hammers.
The child is alive. He cried because I frightened him, not because he was hurt. The vision saved his life. Somehow, I ended up where I was needed.
That’s… insane.
When I can face the road again, I drive to the end, turn around and head home.
Chapter Seventeen
I’m still completely freakedout about yesterday—about rescuing that little boy.
If I hadn’t been scrolling at that exact moment, if I had not slipped into a social-media trance, would he have died? I’m no superhero; I’m not anyone special. Yet what a thing to be able to do—visions of real life. I don’t think I will be saving people every day, but it’s as though this power needs me to believe it’s real.
He would have died if I’d ignored that pull, that compulsion to go.
It’s all so strange and terrifying.
House thinks I’m psychic, and it makes sense. I did have an odd little gift I had spent ten years ignoring before my life went to shit.
I won’t ignore it again; I will try to learn about it even ifit doesn’t feel real. But for today, I need to set it aside, so I shove my phone into the glove compartment. I have a wedding to attend.
I park my car a street away from the venue and walk the rest of the distance. House has worked her fairy-godmother magic on me. She wasn’t exaggerating when she promised to handle my hair and makeup. Flawless. Not overdone. Elegant.
I grip the fancy wrapped wedding gift as though it might bite me.
House and I spenthoursweighing the options. We debated books, booze, bonsai trees, but in the end, we chose something that struck the perfect balance between polite and pointed.
A luxury candle in an elegant hand-blown glass jar. Scent: fresh linen and citrus. Name on the label:Fresh Start.On the card I wrote:
Wishing you warmth, clarity, and a bright new beginning.
All the best,
Fred.
Amy would find the candle hilarious. I wish she were here. I wish House were flesh and blood. Instead, I’m alone, attending the wedding of my ex-boyfriend and the woman with whom he cheated.
Chin up, shoulders back. I can do this.
The hotel grounds are beautiful: sweeping lawns, immaculate flowerbeds, and a golden stone pathwithout a weed in sight. I follow the clink of glasses, music, the murmur of voices, and a series of curated wedding signs pointing around the building to the rear terrace.
“Fred! Is that you?”
I turn to see Jay’s father.
He approaches, takes my upper arms, and kisses my cheek.
“I’m so glad you came,” he says, voice warm. “Are you all right? I’ve missed you.” His glasses slip down his nose as he peers at me. Jay’s father has always been a gentleman; I’ve never understood how he endures Theresa.
