Suddenly the car felt too small. Too cramped. The cool air nipped at her face and crept down her collar.
Amber threw open the door and jumped out into the heat. She walked over cracked and dry ground, her legs stiff, her arms rigid by her sides, her shoes kicking stones. She started to think about her parents again, and she walked faster, but the thoughts kept up. She broke into a run, tears blurring her vision. When she was out of breath, she shifted into her demon form and ran on. In her demon form, she could run forever. In her demon form, she never had to worry about crying.
A racking sob took her by surprise and Amber stumbled, fell to her hands and knees. Tears dropped to the ground and the ground soaked them up thirstily. Not even her demon form could shield her.
She tried to get up but couldn’t. She rocked back on her haunches. Her eyes fixed on a spot on the ground and held it. It took her a good long moment to figure out that she was looking at her shadow. The way her shadow was, all bunched up like that, it made her horns look like Mickey Mouse ears, except thinner, and sharper. If Micky Mouse was a demon’s shadow, she decided it’d be an exact match.
Walter S. Bryant, the kid back at Springton, had wanted to go to Disney World. She wondered if he ever would. He stood a good chance, she thought. At least Springton was still standing. How long did Cascade Falls have, now that the vampires were free to drain it dry? She wondered if it would rise from the dead, like so many of its other victims, but then decided not. Whatever it would be in the future, it would no longer be Cascade Falls, just like this shadow she cast was not Amber.
She reverted. Immediately, she began to sweat. The sun burned at her scalp. If she stayed here, the sun would eventually fry every last inch of her, she was sure. Fry her to nothing. Rob her of all liquids. Maybe she’d end up looking like Varga, right before he crumpled. She still had his blood on her. It was matted into her hair. She needed a serious shower before she’d be free of him. She’d need mouthwash, too. She could still taste it.
She stood, looked to the road. She’d run a long way. Her eyes dry now, she walked back to the Charger. Milo got out as she neared, looked at her over the roof. He took his sunglasses off, had to squint against the glare. His eyes looked tired, but perfectly normal.
“Sorry,” he said.
“No, you’re right. I was being stupid.”
“You’re allowed to be stupid. You’re in a unique situation. There is no correct way to handle things.”
“I still should have told you.”
“How long do you have left?”
She looked at her wrist. “Two hundred and forty hours.”
“Ten days,” said Milo. “It’ll take maybe fifteen hours of driving to get to Colorado. If Jacob Buxton can tell us exactly where his father is, we won’t have a problem.”
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t look well. You look sick. And your eyes …”
“I’m fine,” he said.
“We’re way above the eight-hours-a-day rule. Let me drive.”
He shook his head. “I can keep going. I’m not tired. Remember, it’s eight hours a day on average. I can handle a little more.”
“We’ve been driving for double that.”
“I can handle it, Amber. Besides, we’re on a schedule. Now get in.”
She hesitated, but he was already behind the wheel. She slid into her seat and buckled her belt, and the Charger ate up the endless road, the asphalt vanishing under its wheels.
WHEN THEY WERE ON the Beltway and making good time, Glen woke, and Amber bounced a crucifix off his head just to make sure he was still human.
“Ow,” he said.
She examined him, then sat back and buckled her seat belt once more. “No burning or scarring,” she said. “You’re not a vampire.”
She glanced at Milo, but he was staring straight ahead. Just like he had been for the last few hours.
Glen struggled to sit up. He was astonishingly pale, and every movement was slow and lethargic. When he was sitting up straight, he asked, “Where are we?”
“Nevada,” said Amber. “How are you feeling?”
Glen licked his lips and worked his tongue around his mouth for a few moments. When he spoke again, his voice was clearer. “Awful,” he said. “Really, really bad, like. Should I be in hospital? I feel like I should be in a hospital of some description.”
“You’re fine,” said Amber. “You’ve just lost some blood.”
“Oh,” he said. “Oh yeah.”
“How much do you remember?”
“Uh … bits. I remember being in Althea’s house, and someone calling to me, and I went out—”
“You didn’t think that was odd?” Amber asked.
“Sorry?”
“Someone calling to you from the other side of town,” she said. “That didn’t strike you as unusual at all?”
He frowned. “I didn’t really think about it, to be honest. I just … went. Walked right into a house and there were loads of them, just waiting there. They were laughing at me. Then they …”
His frown deepened. After a moment of staring at nothing, he shook his head and looked up. “And you’re sure I’m not going to turn into one of them?”
“Not according to Althea,” she said. “You’ll only turn after a vampire bite kills you. You’re not dead, are you? So you’re not one of them. But I’ll throw the cross at you again if you want.”
He held up a hand weakly. “No, no, you’re fine, thanks. How did we get away?”
“We were outnumbered,” she said, “and then you ran in and saved us.”
His eyes widened. “I did?”
“No. You were asleep for the whole thing. Milo and I got us out.”
Glen sighed. “So it was me being my typical useless self, then, was it?”
The look on his face robbed Amber of the joy of teasing him. “You’re not useless,” she said. “You were just bitten. It could have happened to any one of us.”
“Yeah, except it happened to me.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Listen, can we stop for food, or something? I’m starving.”
“We got you some nuts,” said Amber, passing him a small bag.
He stared at it. “Nuts? Seriously?”
Amber glanced at Milo for help, but his face was set and he was looking straight ahead.
She gave Glen a smile. “Your body needs to make more blood. Nuts are a good way of doing that. When we stop, you can have fruit and meat and milk and whatever else you need.”
Clearly unconvinced, Glen did his best to open the bag. Amber took it from him, opened it, and handed it back.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, and started eating. After a moment of chewing, he looked up. “Nevada is where Las Vegas is, right? Are we going to be anywhere near it?”
“We’re in Las Vegas now, dummy.”
Glen brightened immediately and looked around, saw nothing but freeway. “Uh … where is it?”
“That way,” she said, pointing.
They both looked out at the concrete border that separated the roads as they sped by.
“I can’t see much beyond the, y’know, wall,” said Glen.
“Yeah,” said Amber.
“Are we going to see the Strip?”
“No.”
“The hotels? Any of the casinos?”
“Probably not.”
“Are we just … are we just driving round the city?”
“Yes.”
“And we’re not going to see anything of the city itself?”
“Yes.”
“We are?”
“No, I mean, yes, we’re not.”
“So, after all these years of hearing about Las Vegas, and seeing it in movies and TV, I finally get here and … and all I get to see is a wall?” Tears sprang to his eyes.
Amber frowned. “Are you crying?”
“Am I?” Glen said, and sobbed loudly. “Dear Jesus, I am. Why am I crying? I’m not even
that sad.” He wiped tears from his cheeks like they were pesky insects. “It’s just I really wanted to see Las Vegas.”
“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” said Amber. “You’re very emotional.”
“Apparently.”
“I’m going to turn round now, and pretend you’re not crying, because I don’t know how to deal with that.”
He nodded as he wept. “Sounds fair.”
She turned round and looked out of the windshield and after a few minutes Glen stopped crying and fell asleep.
They carried on into Utah. By this stage, Amber had had enough of Milo’s deteriorating condition. His skin was getting greyer by the mile. She demanded that he stop and he reluctantly obliged, and they stayed at a Super 8 in Green River. Amber slept like the dead that night. In the morning, Glen had some colour in his cheeks and Milo was back to normal and the Charger gleamed. As she got in, Amber was overcome by the feeling that it had been waiting for them.
She looked at her brand, not even hiding it now: 221 hours left.
They got to Cricket Hill, Colorado, a little after two that afternoon, then spent another hour trying to find Burkitt Road. It led them into the tree-covered hills, the way getting narrower the further they went. The road turned to a trail and the trail petered out, and they had to leave the Charger and continue on foot. A light rain fell, but the trees protected them for the most part and Glen didn’t complain, despite the fact that he was obviously still very weak.
“Gregory Buxton doesn’t sound like the kind of man I expected,” Amber said, breaking the silence.
Milo glanced at her. “Meaning?”
“Meaning he’s a good guy,” said Amber. “From what Althea said, anyway. He made that deal to save his son, and he hasn’t hurt anyone. He’s not like Dacre Shanks or … or my folks. How can we offer him to the Shining Demon now that we know all that?”
Milo’s strides were annoyingly long. “Offering him up is your best chance at survival,” he said.
She hurried along beside him, leaving Glen struggling to catch up. “There has to be something else. There has to.”
“So what now? You want to turn around?”
“No,” she said. “I want to find him. He’s managed to cheat the Shining Demon and stay alive for all this time. He sounds like someone who can help me.”
“If Jacob will tell us where he is,” Milo said.
“What do we do if he won’t help?”
“Let’s find him first,” said Milo. “Whatever happens after that happens after that.”
They followed the trail to a cabin. It may have been sturdy once, may have been proud and strong, may have stood in this clearing and proclaimed its toughness to all the trees that surrounded it, but time and circumstance had worn it down. It sagged like an old man now. The window to the right of the narrow door drooped sadly, and weeds burst from the rotten boards on the porch. A battered motorcycle was parked outside, its tyres flat, joining the cabin in its moroseness.
Amber and Glen stepped over a curving line of moss-covered stones, half buried in leaves, and followed Milo up to the door. The porch creaked dangerously under their weight. The door opened before Milo could even knock.
“What do you want?” Jacob Buxton asked. He was about forty, and skinny, only a little taller than Amber, and he needed a shave. He needed a good night’s sleep, too. He looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot and his dark skin was irritated just under his jaw. He scratched at it absently with dirty fingernails.
“My name’s Milo Sebastian, and this is Amber and that’s Glen,” said Milo. “You’re Jacob, right?”
“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling,” Jacob said. “Do yourselves a favour and go away.”
He started to shut the door.
“We’re looking for your father,” said Amber.
Jacob paused, thought for a moment, then said, “Good luck with that.”
“I’m in trouble.”
“You will be if you don’t leave,” he said, threatening words that didn’t sound like a threat.
“Please,” said Amber. “Your father’s the only one who can help me.”
An expression passed over Jacob’s face that may, on anyone else, have been mistaken for amusement. “You expect him to help? You’ve obviously never met him.”
“No, but we were told about him.”
He allowed the door to open a little wider, just so he could brace himself idly against the frame. “Believe me, the legend doesn’t begin to even approach the man.”
“Can you tell us where he might be?” Milo asked.
Jacob looked at them both. “Seriously?”
Amber frowned. “You’re talking like you expect us to know something I don’t think we know.”
“Well then, let me enlighten you. I don’t know where my father is,” said Jacob. “That’s why I’m here. That’s kind of the whole point.”
“Could I possibly use your bathroom?” Glen asked.
“No,” said Jacob.
“Mr Buxton,” said Milo, “we’ve travelled a very long way to talk to you. If you could just be straight with us, we’ll move on and we won’t bother you again. Those rocks we stepped over to get here – I’m assuming they go right around your property, yes? What do you need with a protective circle?”
Jacob examined him, then switched his gaze to Amber. She tried to look as knowledgeable as Milo.
“The girl doesn’t know what you’re talking about,” Jacob said.
“She’s new,” said Milo.
“I’m learning,” said Amber. “And I know more than Glen.”
“I literally know nothing,” Glen offered up happily.
“When you say protective circle,” Amber said to Milo, “do you mean like the other one? The one I was in? So it’s an occult thing, right?” She switched her focus to Jacob. “What’s it for? What’s it keeping out?”
“The witch,” said Jacob.
Amber glanced at Milo to make sure he wasn’t smiling. No smile, which meant no joke. She looked back at Jacob.
“There are witches?”
“There are.”
“And why is she after you?”
Jacob ignored the question. “Who told you about me?”
“Your grandmother.”
“She’s still alive, then?”
“You don’t know?”
“We had a falling out. She tends to skip over the unpleasant realities of our little family drama. Lovely woman, but stubborn as hell.” Jacob started suddenly, like he’d seen something in the trees behind them. Amber glanced back, saw nothing but woodland.
“Listen,” said Jacob, once his focus returned, “you want to know where my father is? I don’t know. I’m sorry about that, but there it is. I don’t know where he is and there’s nothing you can do to make me know.” He looked at Milo. “That’s what you’re planning, isn’t it? Sorry, my friend. You look like you can dish it out, but I just don’t have the information you’re looking for. This is a dead end. You may as well go back to where you came from before you draw its attention.”
“The witch,” said Milo.
Jacob nodded.
“We’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m serious,” said Jacob. “If it sees you, it’ll go after you.”
“Then you better invite us in.”
Jacob sighed. “Whatever. Enjoy your walk back.”
He closed the door.
Amber started to ask a question, but Milo held up a hand. She clamped her mouth shut and looked around. She wondered if it was a witch like the one in The Wizard of Oz or like the ones in that Roald Dahl book. She’d hoped it was a witch like the ones in Harry Potter, but she doubted it.
The cabin door opened and Jacob stood there, looking thoroughly pissed off.
“Get in, quick,” he said.
THE CABIN WAS CLUTTERED with books and magazines and tied-off trashbags. Despite this, it was neat, to a degree, though a smell definitely lingered in the air.
“The witch is trapping you here?” Amber asked. “What happens if you try to leave?”
“It chases me back,” Jacob answered, closing the door behind them. “It doesn’t want to kill me. It just wants to plague me. It took me a few years to figure that out. It doesn’t make things any better. Doesn’t make it any easier to escape.”
“The bathroom?” Glen asked.
Jacob sighed, and gestured to a door. Glen smiled his gratitude, and hurried in.
“How long have you been here?” Milo asked.
“Living here? Ten years,” said Jacob. “Trapped in this cabin? Seven months. Stay away from the windows, please.” He frowned. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I had visitors. That says something, doesn’t it? If I can’t remember that? I’m not sure what it is I’m supposed to do now, though. Do people still apologise for the mess? I guess they do. In that case, excuse the state of things. My trash isn’t picked up anymore. I do my best to recycle, but what I’d really like is to take all this junk outside and burn it. But like any Boy Scout I am well aware of the dangers of open fires in wooded areas. So tell me who you are or I’ll kill you all with an axe.”
Amber must have taken on a funny look, because Jacob gave her a smile.
“Not really. The axe is out back, and I’ve never killed anyone with it. But I am mighty curious as to who the hell you are and what you want with my father.”
“We just want to talk to him,” Amber said. “Your grandmother told us you might be able to help.”
Jacob scratched his neck. “What else did she say?”
“She told us that when you were a kid you had cancer. Your father made a deal with the Shining Demon to cure you, but, when your dad was supposed to start repaying his debt, he ran, and the Shining Demon couldn’t find him.”
Jacob nodded. “She tell you what my dad had to do in return for saving my life?”
“She said he was supposed to harvest souls. But he never had to, because he ran.”
Jacob looked to Milo. “You’re a man of the world. You believe that?”
Milo hesitated. “Some of it has the ring of truth.”