Chapter 31 - Goldie Goes A-Huntin’

An hour after she’d closed the door on Flint’s clenched jaw, Goldie was starting to be almost positive that she’d pretty definitely done the wrong thing. Maybe. Oh shoot, she didn’t know! Had she been too harsh on Flint? Yes, that was for sure. But had she done what was necessary to keep her and Darby safe? Also yes. It was all so confusing that even after a shower and putting on her favorite kneesocks and nightshirt - featuring the heroine from Beauty and the Beast curled up in a library that looked way too much to her like the book nook up at that hacienda - Goldie was sure her head was going to explode if she kept up this round-and-round much longer.

Time for another tactic.

She went to her room and hooked her phone up to the speakers, then scrolled through her music app until she found a song with a driving beat and lyrics that felt right. She stomped her feet as she sang along, letting the words mix with her feelings and carry them away on her breath. Shoot, she would have pounded on the wall if she wasn’t sure it would bring Flint running to her side.

But far from helping her feel more centered, Goldie’s aggression was ramping up. She sang louder, almost shouting the words, but it wasn’t enough. This ritual that usually served her so well was failing her. Goldie felt short of breath and stopped singing, her nerves buzzing like they were on fire, like… like… That doesn’t make any sense! But even as she thought the words, her vision went green.

A thump from Flint’s side of the duplex caught her attention, Goldie’s head swinging around as if she could peer through the walls and see what was happening. Then another thump, not even heard so much as felt through the floor, and she was in motion, moving down the hallway to the living room and stepping into the slippers she wore to get the mail. Quiet as a mouse out the front door. The dark outside looked like a scene from a movie shot in night vision. Down one set of stairs and up the other to listen at the brothers’ door. Did she hear voices inside? Not Bryce and Flint. The clinking of coins or some other metal? Definitely dragging.

Goldie tried the door but it was locked and she hesitated, but only for the barest moment. Climb into the backyard. Try the back door. Goldie started to step away, unable to stop herself from taking some kind of action, when the sconce by the door caught her eye. Maybe?

She held her breath and slipped her slender fingers between brass and brick, feeling for loose metal and found it immediately, pulled the spare key free from its hiding spot. Ha-ha! Gingerly she slipped it home in the deadbolt first, then the knob, moving as silently as she could. Where the heck was Flint? With her world going green, Goldie expected to see him in full bear-mode, tearing some vampire’s legs off. The silence by contrast was spooky, only the steady drumbeat of the music she’d left playing in her place providing any soundtrack for the scene.

Some part of Goldie’s mind was aware that she was walking into a situation that was crazier than anything she’d done before. But the spiraling bloodlust inside her compelled her on. Don’t fight it. Fight them.

As she came through the door Goldie froze, her eyes wide with alarm. Fight them with what? She’d left the small knife Flint had given her in her purse after they found Brittany, and she sure didn’t have a spare hidden in her kneesocks. Should she go back to her place?

Not an option, the surge of aggression inside her said. Find something. Kill. Do it NOW. The feeling was punctuated by a groan from one of the back bedrooms. Flint’s voice. The color that shaded Goldie’s vision deepened to evergreen and the muscles of her arms rippled with tension, her fingers clasping at nothing. Weapon. Now!

On quick, silent feet she slipped towards the kitchen to search out a blade, but her eye was drawn to the side and the stretch of pass-through countertop covered in cloth. There were stacks of shiny silver forks in different sizes, spoons, table knives, salt and pepper shakers, a pie server… As Goldie moved closer she saw a two-pronged meat fork and reached for its graceful length. Then her eyes lit on the piece beside it and Goldie’s heart thudded so hard she was sure the vampires would hear.

There you are.

It was an old-fashioned carving knife, the blade long and slightly curved at the tip in a way that Goldie found indescribably sexy. Hello, gorgeous. The handle was what sang to her, though. Even with a fresh polish its surface had a matte glow to it that enchanted her, the long strips of silver shaped into an undulating sort of cage and covered with decorative vines sporting fat, triple-pointed leaves. Goldie recognized them as pumpkin vines from the times they’d grown sweet-as-sugar pie pumpkins in Tallulah’s garden.

She picked up the knife, grateful for the cloth beneath that deadened the sound. A warmth so strong it had to come from love ran up the blade and into Goldie’s arm, moving with an electricity that set her heart to thumping even harder. Ooohhhhh. A confidence moved through her. A deep knowing she was helpless to deny. This weapon had been waiting for her.

Flint is waiting for you, too. The thought forced her breath to fill her lungs, the air seeming to shimmer green with the heat of her hatred. Stinking vampires wouldn’t dare take him from me. He was her shifter, her lover, her protector. And now, with this weapon, she would be his.

Goldie kicked off her slippers and started down the hall, stepping cautiously but quickly, one ear on the conversation she could hear coming from behind the only closed door. A friendly voice speaking of bears and strength. No. Not friendly. False. She could hardly distinguish words over the music she’d left playing, but she could sense the bloodsucker’s murderous motives.

Only a few feet left now. The music offered Goldie a modicum of cover while she planned her next move. Have to get through the door. What if it’s locked? What if they’re ready for me? Then Goldie smiled to herself. Was she a switch or wasn’t she?

Casting her mind back to the other day with Shiloh and Cora, Goldie held her hands in front of her, her lovely new knife still gripped tight, and blew into the space between her fingers. A green ball of lightning formed at once and she felt it throb, more intense than she’d ever felt it before, as if knowing there were vampires on the other side of that door had given her an injection of power.

Goldie focused all her energy on her bundle of magicks, on containing the maximum amount of power she could fit into its softball-sized space. Emerald lightning buzzed between her palm and her closed fist gripping the knife that felt as natural as a part of her body.

The fake-friendly voice in Flint’s room turned petulant, complaining about the music. Waa-waa, bloodbaby. Gotta be better than whatever Transylvanian funeral dirges you listen to. Then sneering, threatening. Saying something about teaching a woman with pink hair some manners. Ha! That’ll be the day.

Goldie whipped her left hand back, carrying the ball of lightning with her, and fired it at the doorknob. Wood splintered and flew like shrapnel and Goldie stepped through the opening with a smirk on her face. Someone thought he was gonna teach Darby some manners? “Good luck with that. I’ve been trying for twenty-four years and it ain’t stuck yet.”

A quick scan of the room showed her that the vampire she’d chased through the forest was to her left on the closest side of the bed, between her and Flint, his skinny henchmen to her right, near the foot of the bed. Skinny henchman looks worried. He should be.

His eyes shot wide as he focused on Goldie. “What the fuck is she, Vlade?”

The Fatherborne whose leg Flint had nearly severed from his body yesterday sneered in Goldie’s direction as he snarled at his henchman. “What do you think? She’s a fucking switch.”

Goldie looked at the Fatherborne and giggled. “Vlade, huh? Nice jacket, Vlade. Vlack is really your color.” A little zing of energy caressed her palm where it pressed against the knife handle and Goldie giggled again. Hunting with this weapon didn’t just work, it felt wonderful. Almost tickles.

But Skinny Jeans still looked worried. Goldie pouted at him, thrilling at the confidence that suffused her entire being now that she had her weapon in her hand and a couple of bloodsuckers to stick. “You don’t wanna play, Skinny Jeans? Too bad. If you’re going to double-team a girl you could at least laugh at her jokes. That’s just good manners.”

The one who called himself Vlade chuckled, a disbelieving smile on his face as he shook his head from side to side. “Is it odd to say I’ve missed this?”

Goldie raised one eyebrow at him. “Why, Vlade, it’s only been a day. You sweet on me?”

A movement on the bed drew Goldie’s attention. Flint. He looked horrible, his skin pale, or at least it looked that way in the green wash of her vision. A thin scratch down his chest was blistered and angry. Power thrummed through Goldie’s body. What the heck did these bloodsuckers think they were doing to her man? One thing for sure, they weren’t making it out of here without being punished. She might be wearing kneesocks, but they’d be the ones squealing like schoolgirls before she was through.

But Vlade snatched her focus back. “Not you, your sisters.”

Goldie’s mouth moved before her brain caught up. “What’s your deal with Darby? Are you the one writing letters?”

Vlade’s smirk told her she’d given him something. Shoot! Shut up and stab him! He quickly adopted a more polite expression. “I speak of your switch sisters, long ago.” Then his tone turned almost wistful. “There’s something about a smart-mouthed woman. I don’t get nearly enough of it anymore. My meals are usually too frightened to talk.”

Goldie felt her stomach flip-flop in revulsion and swallowed it down. “I’m starting to feel pretty stabby. What do you say I ventilate you and your friend here?” She edged towards Vlade, figuring he was the bigger threat. The vampire with the streak of white in his black, pushed-back hair pulled away immediately. Ha! Made you flinch! Goldie took another step toward Vlade, eyeing his leather jacket and weighing how much it might slow her knife down.

He immediately corrected and went on the offensive, stepping next to Flint’s shoulder with the black blade he’d had in the forest once more in his hand, a triumphant sneer on his craggy face. “How about I poke holes in this bear until his soul leaks out and then I go after your sister? What did you say her name was? Darby?”

Goldie held her reaction close. Stinking bloodsucker had just laid out her two worst fears, threatening to check them off his list like groceries, but she couldn’t let on. “I usually just go with ‘hothead’. It seems to work.” She gripped her knife harder and let her gaze bounce from Vlade to Skinny Jeans. Which one first?

Another glance at Flint. Head upright, eyes unfocused. He looked like he was trying. She had to Undo these vampires fast, while he still had some fight left in him.

Vlade’s head tipped to one side and his mouth took on a cruel curve as he observed her indecision. “Interesting.” Then all at once he seemed to make a choice, clapping his hands together. “Well then, switch. My friend here is going to kill the bear. I’m off to find your sister. With that head of pink hair she shouldn’t be difficult to spot. Unless…”

His eyebrows rose in smirking inquiry and he set one foot back, arms raised in front of him like Johnny in Dirty Dancing waiting for Baby to do the grand finale lift.

Goldie’s whole body hummed. All she wanted was to stab, slash, skewer, and this joker was making her think. Where would he take her if she attacked him? Did it matter, as long as she stopped him from hurting Darby? Her body tensed to run at him, her sister’s-keeper reflex kicking in hard.

But Flint groaned and Goldie stopped short, her socked toes digging into the carpet. She felt her connection to him everywhere, all through her body, from her tingling scalp to her sparkly silver toenails. Jumping Vlade meant leaving Flint to die. Out of the question. Decision made.

A huff of laughter drew her attention to Vlade’s face. He was watching her. Then he glanced at his skinny henchman with a regretful smile. “You’re going to want to run.” Vlade tensed, the thick black tendrils she’d seen yesterday pouring and swirling off his body in their oily liquid way, and disappeared in a blink. Phazed into the ether.

Her heart thudded once when Goldie realized she no longer had the option to protect her sister. It was up to Bryce now. Goldie had a job to do.

Skinny Jeans looked like he was in the middle of shitting his namesake trousers. Goldie glanced to his hands. Hadn’t Vlade said the skinny little snot was supposed to kill her bear? And how was he supposed to do that without a weapon? She laughed and gave her opponent a pitying glance. “Your boss just left you to die.”

The vampire held out his hands in front of him, eyes scanning the room shiftily. “Wait. Just wait. If you let me out of here I’ll give you whatever you want, I swear.”

Flint groaned to Goldie’s left, his words sending her power surging. “Kill it.”

Skinny Jeans panicked, fear turning to rage in his eyes. “No! You don’t understand… I have money… as much as you want.” His desperate pleading trailed off.

To her surprise Goldie didn’t feel anything. All she could hear was the sound of her knife’s tip glancing off his brittle ribs before slipping sweetly through to his soft parts. All she could picture was the beauty of the blade sinking deep, down to the hilt. A wave of energy surged through Goldie’s body, her vision going deep forest green. This was only ending one way.

Goldie blew into her left palm and felt the bundle of emerald lightning gather there, curling her fingers so she could control it with one hand. She smiled at her prey. “Sorry. I just don’t want cash as much as I want to see you dead.”

Skinny Jeans’ face contorted in impotent rage. He visibly mustered his power and started towards Goldie, but she was more than ready for him.

She threw the ball of magicks at his legs as he lunged, and watched him crumble like wet cotton candy to the floor. In an instant Goldie was on him, one knee on his neck and the other on his chest, the gurgling in his throat a welcome melody as she raised her knife - it was singing to her! - and brought it plunging down into the vampire’s belly.

Red light erupted from the wound and the creature’s screaming mouth, blinding Goldie to the green of her vision, drowning it out and spilling through the room. Goldie felt washed clean in the rush of light and energy that filled her. Inspired and replenished, like the whole of the Nantahala River was coursing through her body at once.

She felt her knees sink closer to the floor as beneath her the vampire’s body degraded, the skin sagging over bone, drying to a leathery texture. Brown hair turned scraggly and thin over a scalp pulled close to the skull beneath. Eyes and tongue and ears disappeared, black voids where they used to be. It was repulsive. She couldn’t stop staring.

Goldie yanked her knife free of the monster’s midsection. Heart pounding, breath filling lungs with a bloodlust unlike anything she’d ever felt before, she pushed herself to standing. More. Again.

She spun in a circle, hair whipping her face as she turned. Where had that Fatherborne gone? Maybe if she ran as fast as she could, she could catch him.