What Do These People Think They Are? Vampires? (Book 1)

Under the blanket, I could pretend my life was anything other than what it really was. Mom would finally wake up one morning and be Mom again: the real one, the one I remembered from before the pills swallowed her whole. She’d knock on my bedroom door with two suitcases behind her and that old smile on her face.

Come on, Ev. We’re getting out of here.

Under the blanket, I could have my mom back.

“Ev!”

His scream cut straight through my shield.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to get back to the hot French guy I’d been fantasizing about at the Louvre gift shop. Dark curly hair. Terrible English. He was just about to ask if I wanted to see Paris with him after his shift.

“EV-E-LYNNNN!”

And there went Paris. I curled tighter beneath the blanket.

He sounded just as drunk as he had yesterday, and the day before that. Heavy footsteps slammed against the floor downstairs. I stopped moving.

The stairs groaned beneath his weight, and I counted without meaning to, the way I always did. Third step creaks. Sixth one doesn’t. The board outside the bathroom pops under his heel, and my door hits the wall harder the drunker he is.

His footsteps crossed the hallway. My bedroom door slammed open.

Dad ripped the blanket away and threw it behind him before tangling his fingers in my hair. I cried out as he yanked me from the bed, my feet barely finding the floor before he shoved me into the doorframe.

Pain shot through my shoulder and ribs. I stayed there gripping my side, glaring up at him.

“Dad—”

“Get the fuck up and make me some shit to eat,” he ordered. “I don’t even care what it is. Just make it edible.”

The smell of whiskey rolled off him. His hair was a mess, his shirt wrinkled and stained. He stomped back downstairs toward his usual place in front of the television without waiting for an answer.

I stayed against the doorframe until the pain eased enough to move, then reached for my phone. 8:47 a.m.

“Shit.”

I was already late for work. I pushed myself upright and tried to straighten my uniform. Across the hallway, something moved.

Mom was awake. Through her open door, I could see her lying in bed, staring vaguely in my direction.

“Mom?” I asked.

Her eyes settled on me, and I waited. Maybe she’d seen it. Maybe she’d say something.

The prescription bottles scattered across her nightstand caught the light. She said nothing.

I looked away before I started crying. Had she eaten yesterday? I couldn’t remember bringing anything upstairs, and Dad wouldn’t remember either.

I grabbed my bag and shoved my phone into my pocket, but I checked her doorway once more before going downstairs.

Dad was where I expected him to be, sprawled in the recliner with the television blaring. The whiskey bottle rested against his thigh, one hand wrapped loosely around its neck.

I kept my eyes on the front door. Three more steps. My fingers closed around the doorknob.

“Where’s my food?” Dad demanded.

“I have work.” I turned toward him, keeping my hand on the knob.

Dad lowered the bottle from his mouth. “I told you to make me something.”

“I know, but I’m already late.”

“I don’t give a shit if you’re late.”

“Dad, I can’t lose this job.”

“And I said I don’t give a shit.” He pushed himself out of the recliner.

“Just make something yourself,” I snapped.

The words were out before I could stop them. Dad went still, the bottle hanging at his side.

I turned the doorknob.

“Don’t you walk away from me,” he warned, coming toward me.

I pulled the door open.

Something hard slammed into the side of my head.

White burst across my vision. I stumbled sideways into the wall as a high ringing swallowed the television. My hand flew to my temple.

Wet.

I pulled my fingers away. Blood.

Dad stood in front of me with the whiskey bottle in his hand. I couldn’t stop looking at it. At him. At the blood on my fingers.

Then he reached for me.

I shoved him with everything I had. He staggered backward, his heel catching the edge of the rug, and crashed into the recliner. The side table went with him. His bottle hit the floor and shattered, spraying glass and liquor across the room.

Dad stared at me from the chair.

I stared back. Then I ran.

“EVELYN!”

I bolted through the open front door. Behind me, furniture scraped across the floor.

“You better get your ass back here!”

I ran harder. The fast-food place where I worked was down the road, but I couldn’t go there. He knew where I worked. He knew where the few people I talked to lived. Every place I could think of hiding suddenly felt useless.

Then I saw the woods across the road. Dense. Dark enough between the trees that I couldn’t see much beyond the first few yards.

“YOU HEAR ME?” Dad screamed behind me. “I’M GONNA BEAT YOU UNCONSCIOUS WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!”

I crossed the road and disappeared between the trees.

Branches caught my uniform and scratched my arms as I forced my way deeper. Roots snagged beneath my shoes. My lungs started burning, but I kept going.

Dad shouted my name, then shouted it again. Each time, his voice came from farther away.

The woods took the last of his voice, and I kept running anyway.

* * *

The woods swallowed me whole and refused to spit me out.

By the time I admitted I had no idea where I was, the sun had disappeared behind the trees. A thin wash of moonlight barely reached the forest floor. I’d spent hours walking, looking for a road that never appeared.

When I’d left home, it had been almost nine in the morning.

“Jesus Christ.”

My legs ached, my feet felt raw inside my shoes, and my phone had died hours ago. My dramatic escape from home had failed to include a fully charged battery or any sort of plan beyond running until Dad couldn’t find me.

Excellent work, Evelyn.

I wrapped my arms around myself and kept walking, although I’d stopped pretending I knew which direction I was going.

A bush rustled to my right. I stopped. For a moment, nothing moved. Then something heavier shifted ahead of me, and a branch snapped.

I searched the darkness between the trees. Two faint yellow points appeared between the trunks.

Every part of me locked. Then they vanished.

Had those been eyes? No. Nope. Exhaustion.

A sound rolled through the trees somewhere far away. Not quite a howl. At least, I didn’t think it was. It was lower than I expected a wolf to sound, rough enough that every tiny hair along my arms lifted.

I listened, but it didn’t come again. That was enough forest exploration for one lifetime.

I found the thickest tree nearby and lowered myself against it. Bark dug into my back as I pulled my knees toward my chest.

What the hell was I supposed to do now? Go home? Dad would eventually calm down. He always did. Mom would still be upstairs. She probably hadn’t eaten.

I shifted forward before I realized what I was doing.

Someone has to take care of her.

My hands tightened around my knees. Dad had hit me in the head with a whiskey bottle, and I was sitting lost in a forest, worrying about dinner.

“No,” I whispered.

I settled back against the tree. For once, I wasn’t getting up because someone at home needed something.

Not tonight. Tomorrow, I’d find the road. Call someone. Figure out a plan that didn’t involve going back.

For now, exhaustion had settled so heavily over me that even the strange noises in the forest were beginning to feel far away. I leaned my head against the bark. Once the sun came up, finding my way out had to be easier.

My eyelids sank closed. I could have fallen asleep in sec—

* * *

Soft. That was the first thing I registered. Whatever was underneath me was way too soft to be the forest floor.

I moved one hand beneath me. Sheets.

My eyes opened to pitch-black. I stretched my other hand outward and found more bed.

What the fuck? I pushed myself upright. Unless the forest had grown a mattress while I slept, I wasn’t in the woods anymore.

“What’s your name?”

A man’s voice came out of the darkness. My entire body jumped. I reached around me, finding nothing but air and mattress.

“Um… my name is Evelyn.” My throat felt painfully dry. “Where am I?”

The light clicked on.

I winced and threw one hand over my eyes. Through my fingers I glimpsed two men first, a tall one beside the bed and someone blond behind him. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out the others.

Five men. I pulled the sheet against my chest.

What had I gotten myself into?

“Welcome to your new home,” the tall one replied calmly, as if that answered my question.