They Belong To Me

 Carl was in the kitchen making bacon and eggs for Jessie and Heidi. The little girl giggled at one of his jokes, and Francine heard Jessie tell him it was the first laugh she’d heard from her daughter in months.

Francine felt a familiar flicker of worry. Carl was older than she was, but ever since she’d discovered he was her brother, she’d felt protective of him. In many ways, he had been more sheltered. True, he’d grown up knowing about the supernatural world, while their grandmother had tried to shield her from it. But Francine had adapted. Carl had grown up wanting a normal life. With who their father was, that had never been possible. And then there was the fact that he could see ghosts.

It had tormented him for years, so badly that he’d once sought relief in a bottle. She was proud of him. Ever since his near-death experience, he hadn’t touched a drop.

Francine stood in the hallway and listened to them talk, relieved that it was the only sound in the apartment. The lights no longer flickered. There was no scratching at the walls. No sense of something pressing in from the outside.

It was quiet.

For now.

She felt eyes on her.

Looking up, she found Hunter watching her from across the room. A small flutter stirred low in her stomach. She wondered how long he’d been there. If he had been watching her the entire time she slept.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Morning. What time is it?”

“Seven thirteen.” His voice was steady, but he looked tired. Even without sleep, the daylight drained him.

Hunter was a creature of the night. Francine should have been too. She couldn’t risk direct sunlight, but she had discovered she preferred being awake during the day. The world felt less lonely then. Less empty. Night was for isolation, when everyone she cared about was asleep.

That was why they had bought the van. If she stayed in the back, wrapped in a cloak and protected with sunscreen, she could move about during daylight hours. She could dash into vampire-friendly places like the library, whose windows were permanently shaded. She had a feeling Mrs. Roberts was responsible for that.

Hungry, Francine stepped into the kitchen. Eggs and bacon were not for her. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a glass jar filled with dark red liquid. Blood. A donation from a bank that catered to the gentler kind of vampire. The kind that did not want to hunt.

She tried to drink discreetly, turning slightly away from the table, but she felt Jessie’s gaze on her.

“Can you eat normal food?” Jessie asked, curiosity outweighing caution.

Francine lowered the jar. “No. Before I was fully turned, I could manage raw meat. Now any food I eat makes me violently sick.”

“Oh.”

Jessie looked down at her plate, thoughtful rather than frightened.

Francine turned away again, pretending not to notice that Hunter was still watching her.

“Is Deb still asleep?” she asked, trying to ease the quiet tension that lingered in the room.

“I was,” Deb said, walking into the kitchen and reaching for a strip of bacon. “Then I smelled breakfast.”

A faint smile tugged at Francine’s lips. “Do you want to go with me to the library this morning?”

“Try and stop me,” Deb said around a bite. “I’m still mad you didn’t let me go with you to the diner.”

“I don’t need a guard dog,” Francine said. “Just the company.”

“I will come too,” Hunter said.

Francine glanced at him.

“I don’t think the demon will be able to access the library,” he continued. “I’m certain Mrs. Roberts has the building protected against anything evil. But I don’t believe we should take any chances.”

His eyes held hers again, and this time she did not look away.

Her phone rang.

She jumped, heart slamming against her ribs. A nervous laugh escaped her before she could stop it.

“I’m so jumpy,” she muttered. “It’s probably Mrs. Roberts. Or Sondra. Maybe she’s less grumpy now that she’s had a night in her own bed.”

Even as she said it, her stomach tightened.

She picked up the phone. “Hello?”

Static answered her.

Not the faint hiss of a weak connection. This was thick. Grinding. It crackled in her ear like something alive.

“Hello?” she repeated.

For a moment, there was nothing but that sound.

Then a voice pushed through.

Gravelly. Low. Wrong.

“They belong to me.”

The words slithered through the speaker.

“Stay out of my way, or I will make sure you are permanently out of everyone’s way.”

The line went dead.

Francine lowered the phone slowly.

The kitchen had gone silent.

Even the bacon had stopped sizzling.