Devil's Pathway Read online

  Liam was far more suited for this job, but the vampire was lazy and conniving as well as Henry’s best friend. Liam did what he wanted. And dear sweet Catherine wouldn’t deign to get her precious little hands dirty.

  Rob stepped out of the shadows of the trees and strode to the truck, determined not to think about what he was doing.

  An older man slowly opened the door and got out, his gray hair almost silver in the moonlight. Rob could sense the man’s heartbeat race. Despite the thirst being somewhat satisfied, Rob couldn’t help but think of his teeth on the man’s throat with the warm blood spilling out as the thirst dissipated for a short time.

  “I got two,” the man said. “It was harder this time. Fewer homeless people are coming through. Maybe word is getting out about what’s happening to people here. We may not be able to continue this agreement.”

  “You’ll have to find a way.” The force from holding back his urge to drain the life from the man made Rob’s voice harsh. “If not, we’ll turn Grangeville into another Florence and wipe it from the map, starting with you and your family.”

  The man swallowed. “I’m sure we’ll find a way,” he stuttered. “Please just keep your side of the agreement.”

  Rob ignored the plea. “Show me.”

  The man led the way to the back of the truck and lowered the tailgate. “They’re younger, as requested. We gave them food and a place to clean up.” He gestured to the two large heaps lying in the bed of the truck. “Do you think your master will be pleased?”

  Rob flipped back the blanket. His loathing to the task faded while the thirst controlled him more. Perhaps this was why he hated this task. It reminded him that he was the same kind of monster as Liam, ruled by the thirst, uncaring of life, capable of the darkest evil.

  He forced himself to look at the two people, drugged and bound by ropes. The man looked to be in his mid-twenties. While unshaven, he appeared to be healthy and free of toxins. The other was a blonde-haired woman about the same age.

  Rob flopped the blanket over their faces and turned to the man. Fear filled the older man’s light blue eyes as he awaited Rob’s judgment. The rules set down by Henry stated that if the vampires were unsatisfied by the offering, then they would take a life of someone in the community as punishment. A life precious to the one who chose to give a poor offering.

  Rob let the man fret while he mulled over his choices of who he would take. He could use this opportunity to take Megan and do what he wanted to her.

  “I’m satisfied,” Rob said brusquely before the desire for Megan overcame his judgment. He stepped into the shadows.

  The man sagged and pulled the prisoners out of the truck, dropping them to the ground in his haste.

  Rob waited until the man was almost in his truck before stepping out again. The man turned, frightened by the change in their routine.

  “And, Tom, don’t take so long next time,” Rob warned. “That church you pastor doesn’t offer you any protection.”

  Tom nodded so hard it looked like his head would pop off. “Of course,” he stammered. “Faster next time. I understand. Thank you, sir.”

  “Go!” Rob barked. The lust for blood chokes him, making it impossible for him to speak.

  Tom leaped into his truck and raced back to Grangeville. When the truck was out of sight, Rob gathered the two humans and made his way back to the house on the edge of Florence.

  Liam would claim the woman, even though that wasn’t something Henry allowed. Liam was getting more out of control while he grew stronger. Would he try to defeat Henry and take over control?

  Rob didn’t want to think about Liam being in charge. Henry was ruthless enough. He looked down and saw the woman’s face in the moonlight. Yes, Liam would want this one, and Henry would let him. Rob felt a wave of pity for the woman when he thought of the torment she was about to experience.

  The invisible chains seemed too heavy to bear as despair pulled him into a pit of hopelessness that had no escape.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Recess

  This week is the first full week of school. I stay away from anything that has the school colors on it, and everything seems to go okay as long as I keep my head down. Megan alternates between ignoring me and glaring at me. She gets to school early every day to change before others see her the way her mom expects her to look.

  During the week, I skim parts of the Bible Mom gave me years ago. It’s not fascinating, but it’s not horrible. I don’t find a lot about angels, but I’m surprised at the number of times I read the words Do not fear or Do not be afraid. One verse I find talks about being strong and courageous.

  On Friday, Aunt Kate drops me off at school, and I drag myself into Idaho History. For some strange reason, Mr. Harris decided we should study a little about Florence.

  I thought I would be interested, but Mr. Harris talks in a dry, monotone voice, and he doesn’t cover any of the stuff I want to know. It’s more about the wars around Florence and facts I could find on the internet.

  Today he shows us a clipping from The York Times in 1860. It states that gold was found. A vein, thirty to ninety feet wide, held unclaimed wealth. After this article, people flocked to Florence.

  “History is made of people who felt the same and did a lot of the same things we do.” Mr. Harris stands on the side of the room so we can see a picture of the clipping from the paper.

  “Like texting, checking Facebook, and posting on Instagram?” Tyler’s long legs are stretched out under the seat in front of him, and he’s reclined with his head on the back of his chair.

  “Well, not that.” Mr. Harris ignores Tyler’s posture. “But they went to work, they worried, they laughed, and they tried for a better life. I’ve decided to feature some of these people, so get to know them because they’ll be on the next test.”

  Groans fill the room. I smile at their protests because this class has been a breeze so far.

  “Cherokee Bob is the first one,” Mr. Harris says when the groans stop. “Take notes! I’m not joking about a test.”

  We pull out paper and pencils and start scratching notes.

  “His name was Henry J. Talbotte, the son of a white man and a Cherokee woman from Georgia. Think about this for a second. Flying to Georgia today will take most of the day. Cherokee Bob had to walk, ride a horse, or take a wagon to get out here.”

  I remember the drive from Chicago to Grangeville and marvel at the effort it would have taken to get here in a wagon.

  “He left Georgia when he was fifteen.”

  The bell interrupts Mr. Harris.

  “When we continue next time, we’ll talk about Cherokee Bob’s horrible reputation,” Mr. Harris shouts over the sounds of chairs scraping on the floor and conversations starting up.

  “Why’d you smile when he mentioned a test? You want a test?” Megan turns on me. “Talk about a teacher’s pet.”

  Tyler smirks. “I remember when you were the teacher’s pet, Meggie. It wasn’t that long ago.”

  “I was not,” Megan protests.

  Meggie? What a stupid nickname. What’s wrong with you, Tyler?

  “You were such the teacher’s pet, you made his dog feel sad,” Tyler mocked. “You’re still pretty pathetic.”

  Sadness and disappointment flash across Megan’s face, but it’s gone quickly. She’s not as uncaring as she wants people to believe she is.

  Why do you hang around this guy?

  “Leave her alone.” I lean around Megan and glare at Tyler. “You’re always picking on her like you’re still in elementary school at recess. Grow up, why don’t you?”

  Tyler sits up with a jolt and slams his palms down on the desk. “Don’t tell me what to do!”

  “Tyler!” Mr. Harris calls a warning from behind his desk.

  Megan pushes me back. “Shut up, Nic!”

  I ignore Megan and turn back to Tyler. “Don’t be such a bully.”

  “You’ll regret this, Nic,” Tyler growls and glances at Mr. H
arris, who is staring us. “Just wait until you’re alone. Then you might not be so brave.”

  “I’m not scared,” I reply.

  Oh, crap. What did I get myself into?

  “Tyler, let it go,” Megan pleads. “He’s dumb. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

  “I’ve had enough of you,” Tyler snaps at her. He grabs his backpack and storms out of the room.

  Megan watches him go and turns to me with a nasty look on her face. “Thanks a lot.”

  She sounds like she’s going to cry.

  “He’s bad for you, Megan.” I try to make her see some sense. “He’s a bully, and you let him. I’m sick of it. Is he why you change clothes every morning?”

  “Of course not,” she snorts.

  I don’t believe her.

  She grabs her bag, pulling hard as it tangles on the seat. “I change clothes to look like everyone else. You just don’t get it. Tyler’s perfect! And now he doesn’t want to talk to me, and you ruined everything!”

  “He’s not perfect!” I jump to my feet. “You’re really pretty when you don’t cake on the makeup like a clown! Why change for him?”

  “You think I cake on my makeup? And look like a clown?” she repeats in a very low tone.

  “Uh,” I stammer. Did I say that out loud? “Well, it’s true. Not the clown part, but you wear a lot, and you don’t need to.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you ever again, Nic.” Her voice is low and full of hate. “I don’t want to know you. I don’t want to see you. Leave me alone!”

  She stalks from the room. I sag against the chair and watch her go, shocked by what just happened.

  Did I really stand up to a bully? And Megan wasn’t even grateful!

  “Girls.” Mr. Harris shakes his head from across the room after she slams the door to the classroom. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I don’t want to talk about it, especially to him. I grab my bag and stalk from the room.

  “Whatever,” I say.

  All the good feelings I had all week are gone. I brood during the rest of the day, staying out of both Tyler and Megan’s way.

  As soon as classes are over, I duck into the bathroom and hang out there until I figure everyone is gone. Aunt Kate will be worried, but I’ll tell her that I was talking to a teacher about an assignment.

  When I emerge, the hallways are quiet. I pass a few classrooms where the teachers are still in the rooms, their heads bent over papers.

  I am almost to the doors when Tyler and his gang of four guys he always hangs with come around a corner straight toward me. Megan trails behind the guys like a scolded puppy desperately hoping for affection. She doesn’t look at me.

  The guys don’t appear to see me as they strut down the hall while trading jokes and insults. I keep going, staying close to the lockers. Instinctually, I adopt the same survival skills I’ve used with the demons for so many years.

  If I don’t see you, then you won’t bother me.

  I keep my eyes to the ground. They draw closer. They’re mocking one of the guys about something that happened at football practice yesterday.

  They pass without looking at me. Tyler brushes past me, his arm bumping into mine. I turn without thinking and give him a dirty look. He never bothers to glance my way. He nods at Cody.

  Cody, the big, muscle-bound jock with black hair, grins and crosses behind Tyler, pulls back his fist, and punches me in the face with a blow that drops me to the ground. I land hard, my head smacking against the white tile floor.

  All I hear is their laughter as the world around me fades into darkness.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Urban Legend

  My eyes open. My arm is throbbing. And my face. I blink when I realize that I’m on a cold, white floor. I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see the bodies of my classmates beside me.

  Was Idaho just a dream? Am I shot like everyone else in the classroom? Did I make up a life while I bled to death? Is the pain in my arm from a bullet, not an axe like I thought?

  I want to scream and leap to my feet to run away, but if the shooter is still waiting, he will mow me down in a second. My best chance of survival is to pretend I am dead with the others and lay among the bodies of my fallen friends.

  “Nic! Nic!” a voice breaks through my panic.

  I freeze, but a wave of confusion sweeps through me. I don’t know that voice. I cautiously open my eyes.

  “Nic! Say something!”

  I do know that voice.

  I groan with a weird mixture of relief and disgust at what just happened. “Just leave me alone, Megan.”

  “Are you all right?” Megan shouts. “Someone help me!”

  Her? Why does she need help? I’m the one that got knocked out!

  I didn’t dream it. Everything about Idaho is real. I’m trapped between relief at being safe from the gunman and anger about Tyler and Cody and the trouble Megan brings with her.

  Cody must have knocked me out cold.

  My arm is throbbing again. I think the cut has been reopened because the pain is making it hard to breathe. Megan is sitting beside me while calling for help. I roll onto my back and moan, my head pounding.

  “Nic! You’re okay!”

  Before I can say anything, the door across from us flies open, and Mr. Harris dashes out of the classroom. Disappointment floods me that it’s him.

  He drops to his knees. “What happened?”

  “I slipped.” As I say it, I know it’s a horrible explanation, and Aunt Kate isn’t going to believe me.

  Mr. Harris doesn’t either. He glances at Megan.

  “Did you see Nic fall?” he questions.

  “Yes, I did.” She pauses. She begins to say something several times but closes her mouth like she’s having a battle about what to say. When the words start, they come fast like she’s afraid she won’t have the guts to finish. “He slipped because Tyler told Cody to target him for their Knockout game.”

  “Knockout game?” Mr. Harris asks. He presses me back in my attempt to get up. I struggle and then lay on the floor.

  “It’s a game everyone is playing,” Megan explains. “Well, not everyone. Tyler and his friends. They pick someone they don’t like and wait until that person is alone, and they knock him out. Tyler already had his turn with...” She gasps that the secret information almost tumbled out.

  “Levi?” Mr. Harris asks.

  She continues reluctantly. “Yes. Levi irritated Tyler. I can’t remember why. Anyway, today after class, Tyler told Cody to knock Nic out.”

  Mr. Harris nods like it makes perfect sense. I’ve heard of the game, but I thought it was more of an urban legend. I snort with a weak attempt at humor that an urban legend came up and hit me in rural America.

  Mr. Harris and Megan don’t get the joke.

  “Megan, stay here with him. I’m going to get the nurse, if she’s still here.” Mr. Harris waits until she nods. “Nic, just lay here and don’t move while I get the nurse. Do you understand?”

  I nod and then remember he said not to move. “Okay.”

  He trots off in the direction of the school nurse’s office. Something’s different about him. He seems more confident, and his voice has lost the monotone quality.

  Megan sits down on the floor next to me. She’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt again. She avoids looking at me. I don’t blame her. Maybe she’s finally realized her crush is a jerk.

  “I’m sorry.” She curls up so her knees are almost touching her chin. “Does it hurt?”

  “Doesn’t feel good.”

  “I’m sorry,” she repeats as she covers her face with her hands and squeezes her eyes shut. “I didn’t think they would do it. You know how guys talk about crazy stuff all the time and not do it. I should have told you what they were planning. I’m so stupid.”

  How is it that I’m the one hurt and now my job is to make you feel better?

  “You couldn’t have stopped them no matter what you did.”
>
  I’ve seen evil find a way past every barricade.

  “I could have tried.” She sounds like she’s crying and doesn’t want me to know. “He’s so wonderful at times and then so mean. I don’t know what to do.”

  And now I have to give you dating advice?

  I can’t stop the harsh laugh that escapes. “What is it with you and him?”

  She glares at me and bites her lip like she’s not going to tell me anything, but she must figure that she owes me one. She stares at the floor while she speaks.

  “I homeschooled until high school,” she says. “When I moved here, I was a nerd. I sat in the front row, asked a ton of questions, and got the best grades. But I didn’t have any friends. Tyler was pretty much the same as he is now. All the girls liked him. But after I got my head flushed in the toilet, he told me to stop being so good at everything and start thinking about my appearance more.”

  She turns to me, growing more animated. “You have to understand. The coolest, hottest guy in school took time to help me. He was right, too! I used to wear plain, old jeans and a t-shirt every day and didn’t wear any makeup. I even brought my Bible to school. He said if I could get myself together–you know, like better clothes, makeup and all that–and if I gave up all the religion stuff and started to party that we could date one day.”

  What a jerk!

  “Let me guess,” Disgust drips through my words. “You still aren’t good enough for him, right?”

  She grins. “He broke up with Hilary, so I’m hoping that by the prom…”

  I can’t take it anymore. “You’re in your own fairy tale story, aren’t you?” I say sarcastically. “And your prince will take you to a ball, and you’ll live happily ever after.”

  Tears roll down her cheeks. “I knew you wouldn’t understand! You aren’t listening to anything I’m saying.”

  “You need to forget him” I shift a bit. The hard floor is getting uncomfortable. “Why the church act then? If you’re so intent on getting your prince, why don’t you party and do whatever?”