Page 68 of House of Pawns
Numb.
I deserve everything he just said. I did cause all these things in this town. Maybe not the attacks, that was in motion the moment I arrived, and I don’t see the connection to me. But the others. Ian no longer hunting vampires, because he is one. The curse storm.
I swallow once. Blink three times. I scan the small crowd before me once more. And turn to leave these poor people alone.
A small skiff of snow covers the Jeep when I climb back in. I pull back onto the road, the Hanging Tree in my rearview mirror. I drive. Past the businesses again. Past homes. Past the turnoff for the ConrathEstate.
And I slow when I get toward the outskirts, at a dirt road turnoff.
The road that leads to Ian’s house.
Don’t think.
Don’t feel.
Yet I can’t seem to make the car leave.
I will keep my promise to Elle. I won’t say a word about Ian being a vampire. I won’t mention his family. Not his crazy, bitchy grandmother. Not his sweet sister. Not his dead, cheating mother, or his vampire father.
Don’t think.
Movement down the road draws my attention and a startled ache forms in my chest.
There’s a lone figure down the road a little ways, trudging through the snow. Her tiny, frail frame holds a stick, feeling for obstacles in her way.
Daphne.
Finally, I move the car forward and head in her direction. The snow on the road gets thicker and deeper the further from town I get, where Samuel has not plowed as much. Yet, I know once the borders of Silent Bend end, so does the snow.
“What are you doing out here in the snow?” I ask as I pull to a stop beside her, rolling down my window. The frigid air hits me like a punch in the face.
A smile comes to her boney face, reaching her empty eye sockets behind those sunglasses. “My, my. Would that be the long lost Alivia Ryan?”
“It would, indeed. Now get in before you freeze to death.” I reach across the passenger seat and push the door open. “I’ll give you a ride.”
She reaches out a searching hand, feeling around in the airfor a moment before making contact with the open door. Carefully yet clumsily, she climbs into the seat, bringing in a load of snow with her tattered boots.
“Oh, that feels nice,” she says as I roll up the window and blast the heat. She still smiles that smile that is almost too wide for her face. Her frail frame doesn’t shake, though, despite the negative temperatures I just rescued her from.
“Can I drive you home?” I offer. I feel like a terrible Samaritan, not offering to take her home with me. So many have fled, their homes unable to withstand mother nature. But just now, my home is far from safe for her.
“That would be very kind of you,” she says with a little nod as she holds her hands up to the heater. “Crazy weather, huh?”
“Daphne, why were you walking out there? Where were you headed?” I haven’t started driving yet, because I don’t know where I’m supposed to be going, or where she lives.
She hesitates in answering. And this small, tiny moment, makes me wonder if what she’s going to say next is going to be a lie.
“I was headed to check on a friend. Haven’t been able to get ahold of her since day before yester, got worried. But the snow got too deep,” she says. “Thought I’d best turn back.”
“You shouldn’t have risked going out,” I can’t help but chide her. “Where do you live?”
“Go about half a mile down the road and turn on Willabee Road,” she says.
I start driving.
“I hear you’ve made some new friends as of late,” she says, making conversation.
But it makes my blood run chill.
