HAPTER TWO
The rest of the day she couldn’t shake her encounter with Ryder. His card was still in her breast pocket, and seemed to be a constant reminder. As a result, it was even harder to focus on work than usual, and Mme. DeFleur made a point of making her stay an extra hour past closing time, just to make up for the work she had fallen behind on. Lisa didn’t mind. It might’ve seemed boring and routine to another person, but Lisa’s mind was always on the go, always inundated with thoughts, like a busy, well-oiled traffic spree. Sometimes, it was exhausting.
That’s why she liked apparently menial work. It kept her brain from overloading with too much stimulus. It calmed things down, tempering the storm of her inner thoughts. She had begun to suspect that her condition was the reason she had never made any close relationships. Even now, there were a few classmates she could rely on, but she had been pursuing her Masters in Literature more or less by herself. Am I lonely? she often wondered.
Perhaps. But then, she had never really needed other people. And other people had never really needed her—it was hard to fit in. All the same, I’ve never even had a boyfriend, she lamented. The idea of a boyfriend, of that kind of close physical and emotional intimacy, had become mythical for her, something you could believe in, but only as a metaphor, never in the literal sense.
She knew she wasn’t undesirable to look upon. Every ounce of her brimmed with the classical qualities of femininity, and she was smarter than most of the men in her school. What about a sense of humor? Well, she had it, but she also suspected that what she found funny was far too convoluted—needed too many other points of reference—for others to find it amusing.
The last book slid with a grinding sound of leather on leather into its shelf and she sighed. Street lights on campus had come on already, a foamy orange glow that snuck in like a stray animal and bathed the inside of the library in a preternatural ambiance.
Finally, she sighed. Even though it was simple work, she could feel the stress of it in her shoulders. She massaged her arm and headed toward the exit, locking the door behind her with her keycard. Under one arm she had two more reference books. Over the course of the day, she’d thought of several other links to ancient blood cults that might be of use to Ryder. It was curious, though. She wished she knew what he was looking for; it would be easier to narrow things down.
The books she’d taken out were old, and she figured some of the references and passages in them were the only ones of their kind. History has a way of being forgotten, she thought, and took renewed pride in her job, and the fact she was in fact carrying a part of history with her now. Campus was unusually empty and she picked up her pace, heading straight for the parking lot where her quaint, if stubborn, Toyota Corolla was parked. It was the only vehicle, and she remembered it was Friday. Students and professors alike had retreated to their homes, safe at least for the weekend from the rigmarole of the university.
As she neared her car, she was aware someone was watching her. Her pulse caught in her throat again, and she fumbled for her keys. Just kids, she tried to convince herself, but her hands were shaking looking for the right key. One of them appeared from behind a tree and walked toward her. Another was coming from the other side of the parking lot.
Lisa froze, danger pricking at her scalp, and she desperately tried to fit the key into the lock. Finally, it snapped in and unlocked the door, and she gave a breath of relief. But it was too late. A strong hand slammed the door shut again, and she was looking into the menacing face of a big man, young and built like a football player, his ginger hair a colorful mockery of her own fine reddish-tint.
“What’s the hurry, dear?” he said, his eyes dark.
She realized how similar they were to Ryder’s—impassive, oily, but keenly intelligent. And somehow dangerous in a way she couldn’t pinpoint. She pulled on the door again but he held it shut easily.
“Please,” she managed.
The two other men had come up. All of them were around her age, she figured, early twenties. But there was a malicious intent behind all of their gazes, something lecherous that went beyond sheer physical brutality.
“Whatcha doing, Connor, scaring the poor girl?” one sneered.
“I’m just having a decent conversation,” the ginger said. “Come on, pretty thing like you… what are you doing out this late? And what’s this here?”
He reached for the books she’d dropped and analyzed them. He tossed one of them to his companions, who flipped through it. “This looks like it. Hey, lady, any more like this?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t play dumb!” the one named Connor said angrily, his eyes suddenly a hue redder, as if her own crimson panic was reflecting back in his stare. “We know you’ve been looking into things you shouldn’t… is this all of them, all of the reference material?”
“Maybe she really is dumb,” the skinny one offered with a bored leer.
“Whatever, this should satisfy him. We’ll still get paid. Keep those books safe, dammit,” he turned back to Lisa, “but he didn’t say we couldn’t have fun with the little doll, did he?”
“I don’t recall anything about that,” one of them said, but Lisa couldn’t tell which. “Looks absolutely delicious. I bet she tastes sweet, like fruit. Why don’t we bleed her dry and find out?”
Lisa fought back the urge to cry. She didn’t want them to have the satisfaction, but her whole body was rigid with fear, her mind playing out scenarios, each worse than the last. Her voice felt as if had been trapped deep insider her, a bird locked behind a cage. “Please, please let me go…” she said weakly.
The third man stepped forward, smelling harshly of radish, or some other subterranean vegetable, as if he’d been plucked himself from the dark humus of the earth. His hand grabbed her wrist and he pulled her towards her, sniffing the top of her head. Lisa trembled and let out a small cry, tears forming at the edges of her eyes. “No!”
“Give me some of that,” the ginger said and reached toward her, his hands catching on her waist. Lisa felt as if she was going to die, and she kicked upward on reflex. Her knee caught the ginger square in the nose, and she heard cartilage crack and splinter.
The two other men laughed, but the skinnier of them still held her wrist fast. The ginger, Connor, groaned and stepped back, his eyes watering. He blew through his nose and blood and cartilage alike jetted out. “Little bitch broke mide node!” he said, holding his face.
“That wasn’t very nice, little sister,” the skinny one said.
This time, Lisa screamed. She watched her attacker’s face grow wide, evil and Joker-like with its smirk, and suddenly sharp fangs on either side drew over his lower lip. He snarled at her, raising the sharp gleaming points toward her; his face had changed too, shrink-wrapped around his oblique skull, and his colorless skin was fish-like, gangrenous and cold to the touch. He seemed to take pleasure in her terror and loomed down toward her. She struggled but it was no good. All she could picture as she turned, pulling uselessly, were those two points plunging into the unprotected flesh of her neck.
Then suddenly she was free, and she stumbled forward, throwing her hands out in front of her as she caught herself from hitting the door of the Corolla. She turned around and gasped. The skinny man was on his stomach, crawling away, blood dripping from his mouth, which had been impacted by the shiny blunt helmet in her rescuer’s hand.
She could hardly say his name out loud. Ryder.
He turned and gave her a curt wink, then returned his attention to the other vampire who was gaping at his friend. Another snarl, and he leapt forward, his teeth sharp and jagged, and bared like his companions. For a second, Ryder didn’t even flinch. Then, almost against the laws of physics, he saw him move left with the elegant grace of a martial artist. The fanged man stumbled past with a surprised look on his face, but Ryder caught him by the back of his hood and dragged him back, causing his legs to flail out in front of him. He landed hard on his back, and Ryder dispenses a bone-crushing kick to the man’s jaw.
Lisa winced. Another crack of bone, and she saw the man whimpering on the ground, holding the ruin of his mouth where Ryder had broken off both fangs. Like a bird of prey, the young corporate executive, attired completely in black, looked for his final enemy and found him, staggering backwards. Lisa shivered when she caught the look in Ryder’s eyes—halfway between a cool-headed and fatal calm, and an otherwise explosive anger.
Connor held up his hand. “Hey man, hey! Leave uff alone, we were just having a laugh, juft a laugh isf all! Whatf your problem?” Blood was still curling from his nose, soaking onto his T-shirt. Lisa felt a slight throbbing in her knee where she’d broken his nose.
“I’m just having a laugh, too,” Ryder said, razor-flat intonation. Connor let out a scream and tried to claw at his adversary, but it was almost too easy for Ryder to dodge. He blocked another blow and swung around, kicking the ginger hard in the solar plexus and sending him flying through the air, ten feet into the sharp green needles of a spruce tree. He disappeared into the branches, only his feet sticking out.
Lisa took in a breath.
The other men, whatever they were, had scrambled away. She could make them out further down the road, making a beeline over the soccer field to get away. Ryder sighed and stretched his shoulder, then turned reticently toward her. He made a face like he’d just heard a bad joke with an inappropriate punchline.
“I know I’m getting in the habit of asking this, but are you okay, Lisa?” he said.
She stared at him, not sure how to respond, and sunk down until she was squatting with her back against the door of her car, her naked knees drawn up. She didn’t even care if he glimpsed her panties this time. It was too much, and she felt the weight of it land on her with a crushing blow. He didn’t try to help her up but sat down next to her, plunked his head against the car, and sprawled his feet out in front of him.
“I’ll take that as a no,” he said.
“Wha-wha… what…”
Ryder scratched the back of his head. “What did you see?” he asked, too slowly for it to be a coincidence, as if he were hoping for a specific answer from that question.
“He… he was too strong. And I saw his face change; his teeth grew… like fangs. He-he tried to bite me,” she murmured through quivering breaths.
At the mention of bites, Ryder’s face chanced and he leaned in, touching her neck. She didn’t flinch this time, and wondered why. “They didn’t though?” She shook her head. “Ah, okay… good… Christ, you scared me there.”
“What was that?” she asked, more confidently.
He paused before answering. “Vampire.”
“That’s not possible,” she said. She remembered the research she had done for him—blood cults, assassin, vampires. “Tell me it’s not possible.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t do that,” Ryder said, and sounded genuinely sorry. “The fact is… vampires exist. But most of us aren’t all that bad. A truce was formed, long ago, between vampires and humans. That doesn’t mean you don’t get pricks like these upstanding gentlemen here, from time to time, but in general we mind our own business.”
She shook her head. “You just said… us,” she turned and backed away, just enough to see a hurt expression cross his face, and he stood up and took several steps toward the sidewalk. No, it can’t be, she thought. But then it all fit: the way he’d stayed out of the sunlight in the library, the way he’d been able to catch her so easily. The way he’d just saved her from three—and she couldn’t deny it now, they had been something not human about them—vampires. More tears floated to her eyes and she shook with the effort.
Ryder waited patiently until she’d found composure and stood up again. “I am a vampire, Lisa… but… if it’s any consolation, I’m one of the good guys.” He reached down, retrieving the two books the vampires had dropped. “I had a bad feeling… like maybe I wasn’t the only one looking into these references. Glad I had the nerve to come back, although I didn’t expect to find you. Did those assholes say anything about these?”
She shook her head, her hands trembling on the frames of her glasses. “N-no, just that… just that they were supposed to bring them to someone. To him, they said, that’s all. And that they’d get paid… they asked… if there were anymore. I don’t understand.”
He let his shoulders slump and came closer, put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You know that group of assassin I was looking into?” he asked. “Well, I think someone else knows about them too and doesn’t want me to find out.” Ryder flashed her a grin. She could see the resemblance to vampire in him, the light skin, the eyes. But she had to admit that she didn’t feel frightened by him, or even repulsed. It was still too odd. “Listen, why don’t I escort you home? I have my bike over there. I’ll follow you, okay? I don’t think we need to worry about those guys bothering you again but just to make sure. How’s that sound?”
Almost against her will—against any sort of logic and self-preservation—Lisa found herself nodding. He was a vampire, a mythical creature that should only have existed in books; a creature that fed on human blood; and yet I’m leading him back to my house, she thought as she pulled out of campus and saw Ryder fall in behind her on a shiny, sleek-looking motorbike.
“What am I doing?” she said out loud to herself. And yet, she couldn’t help but trust him. It felt like the headline to a bad tabloid. Billionaire Shinji Heir And Self-Professed Vampire Saves Librarian. She could almost laugh, if her stomach hadn’t been in her throat.