Chapter 2 - Goldie And That One Vampire

“Dangit.” Goldie Peletier repeated the word in her mind like a mantra as she ran-walked toward the school’s exit. Running in public was not proper for a woman (lady, her grandma Tallulah’s voice corrected in her head), so Goldie wouldn’t do it, but if she missed the bus there was no way she could walk the fifteen miles to the motel on mountain roads with no shoulder to speak of. Please just let me catch the dang bus. She’d gotten the job, thank goodness, meaning they would have money to buy groceries at the end of next week, but the interview had run late, and now she was facing being stranded.

She pushed out the door and hurried down the concrete steps, turning right on the sidewalk and giving in to the urge to move faster, not quite running, but almost. The early night air was fresh and warm, but with a slight chill on the leading edge of a strong, steady breeze. Goldie loved it. She’d never planned on stopping in the middle of western North Carolina’s Nantahala forest, but the car had broken down and she and her sister were not getting another mile down the road anytime soon. All the money in their accounts was going to keep a roof over their heads, food in their bellies, and her little green hatchback on blocks at a local mechanic until she had cash to fix it.

Goldie’d had no choice but to get a job. And now they were stuck in this tiny mountain town, for at least several months. Liking the place was a bonus. Everything about it was wild. The weather, the forest, even the people she’d met, like each one of them had a secret.

There, she spotted the bus stop three blocks ahead and moved a little faster still. There was no bus in sight, but that could mean either it hadn’t come yet, or it had come and gone.

The leaves on the trees in the park beside her were turning slightly, their very edges going orange-red, reminding her that, yes, it was early September, but autumn was coming. She could feel it and she couldn’t wait to experience it. She’d never lived in the mountains, had lived her whole life in New Orleans, which was actually situated below sea level. She shivered, like she always did when anything reminded her of the hurricane that had changed her life forever. She shivered, but she did not slow.

Most years on the bayou it felt like autumn took her sweet time, showing up in the middle of November and then lingering all the way until spring. Up here maybe Goldie would see some real seasons, maybe even snow that stayed on the ground.

She passed the tiny park, speed-walking past the red-brick municipal buildings and the weathered clapboard siding of retail stores and restaurants. A quaint small town. Penny candies and homemade fudge alongside e-cigarettes and t-shirts. Not too different from the shops in the Big Easy where tourists could buy a fine porcelain magnolia blossom teacup alongside neon plastic shot glasses and voodoo dolls.

Goldie made it to the bus stop, out of breath, glad to see an older man sitting on the backless cement bench. If he was waiting, maybe that meant the bus was late.

The man seemed familiar, in that Southern gentleman way she’d grown up around. On the shorter side, with white hair cut close and a stocky build that spoke of a past as a soldier or laborer. He smiled at Goldie kindly as she approached and sat on the other end of the bench. “Evenin’, young lady.”

Goldie didn’t feel like talking, but she’d been all but raised by Tallulah Peletier, one of the grand dames of New Orleans (at least in her own eyes), and that meant Goldie had been raised right. She smiled at the man, responding to the kindness in his face. “It’s a lovely one. How are you, sir?”

He continued to look her over, a vague expression on his softly wrinkled face. “Right as rain, can’t complain. I don’t believe I know you, and I know everyone. You new to town? A student at the college?”

Goldie shook her head. “No, sir, I just got a job in the county schools. I’m a speech therapist.” She gave the older man the sweet smile she’d perfected before she was five and chattered on, painting the disaster of her life to sound like a delight, as if she and her sister, Darby, hadn’t been close to homeless when she found this job. It was the perfect job for her and she was the perfect person for it.

The man smiled over at her, nodding. “You moved here with your husband?”

Goldie held in a weary sigh. Didn’t matter if she was in North Carolina or New Orleans, anyone old enough to be her grandparent wanted to stick their nose in her heart. “No, sir, with my-” Goldie stammered, the lie feeling clunky on her tongue, “My roommate.”

His eyebrows scrunched up, like two furry white caterpillars over his suddenly serious eyes holding tight to hers. “Well, if that don’t beat all… two young ladies, living alone? Y’all best be careful. We’ve had some young ladies go missing around here lately, if you hadn’t heard. Bad sorts runnin’ around.”

Goldie had heard. She’d seen the prime time special on the tri-state kidnappings more than a month ago, had been able to think of little else for the first few days they’d been stranded in the town. She loved the weather and the forest and the quaint little town, but the thought of the ‘bad sorts running around’ was hard on her. Whoever was doing it, he was preying on women alone after dark. Goldie worried about herself, but more, she worried about her sister (roommate, she’s your roommate). Darby was not known for having a level head.

Especially considering the reason Goldie wasn’t calling herself and Darby sisters. Darby had a stalker. But Goldie didn’t want to think about that or admit they were running. Hiding. She crossed her legs and spoke to the older man. “Beautiful town y’all have here.”

He swelled with pride, his clean-shaven chin jutting over his buttoned-up collar. “Why, thank you.” He looked around at his town, and Goldie wondered if he’d lived there all his life. That was the kind of ownership she felt coming out of him in waves. “Clean air, nice people, pride in our history, surrounded by some of the oldest mountains on earth. You could not live in a better area.”

He stuck out his hand to her. “My name’s Vernon Bunn.”

The proper response rose to Goldie’s tongue, just as she’d said it a thousand times before, I’m Goldie Peletier and I am so very pleased to meet you, but then her world turned upside down and she lost her mind.

Or at least that’s what it felt like. Like what she had always known was not only wrong, but against her very nature, and who she really was trumped who she always thought she’d been, and the realization fell into her head all at once and knocked all sense out of her.

A limo, long and sleek and black as midnight slid past on the nearly empty street.

Goldie was up and moving, without a word to excuse her to the man she’d been speaking to. Unheard of but it didn’t stop her. Her world turned a stunning shade of shamrock green, reminding her of the worst night of her life, which scared her, but also gave her a frame of reference for the strength pouring through her.

She’d felt this extraordinary power before, back when she’d needed help in the worst way, for her and her sister, and it had not ended well. This would end no better, she was sure of it, because she was completely and totally out of control. And Goldie could think of nothing worse than being out of control. But still she ran. In public. Where people could see her.

The green stayed in the edges of her vision and she didn’t care, all she cared about was the feeling of hate pouring through her as she chased the limousine down for absolutely no reason at all.

It pulled away from her.

She ran faster.