see you tomorrow night. Don’t leave without me. You do, I won’t be so inclined to be reasonable the next time we meet.”
And with that, he moved fast, exerting his vampiric will. Coburn and his dog vanished into the shadows.
CHAPTER NINE
A Day in the Life of a Dead Girl
Kayla hated having to pee in the coffee mug. It was bad enough having to pee outside, though by now she’d pretty much gotten used to that. But Leelee told her she needed to see the urine, which meant having to contain the urine by pissing into a coffee mug, which further meant frequently whizzing on her own hand.
This morning was no exception.
“Shoot,” she said, wiping her hand on the grass. She hiked up her panties, then lifted the World’s Best Grandpa mug and swirled it around. The urine was dark, turbid—the color of beef broth. Leelee wasn’t going to like that.
Kayla extracted herself from underneath the blue spruce and wandered down toward the lake’s edge, where Leelee was washing clothes and where her father, Gil, was sitting on a park bench oiling the rifle.
She thrust the coffee mug under her father’s chin.
“Coffee?” she asked, bright and chipper. “Still warm!”
Gil wrinkled his nose and waved her away. “Christ, Kayla. Quit fooling around. I got a gun here.”
“Ain’t loaded.”
“You don’t know that. Besides, that’s still no reason to go waving a cup of piss under somebody’s chin.”
“Pssh, Daddy, you are the same old stick-in-the-mud that you always were, and I love you for it.” She set the mug down and kissed her father on the bridge of his crooked nose. He was a tough old guy—not big, and actually kind of short, but even still. Serious gray eyes, salt-and-pepper at his temple and in his beard, and a stripe of silver up top. Skin like saddle leather.
He just grunted at her affection, then pulled her close and tilted her chin with his thumb. It was a gentle adjustment; he had never been rough with her.
“Looks like someone strung you up in a tree, left you there overnight.” From the back of his throat, a low growl. Then he turned his eyes away from her—a flash of shame crossing his face. “I should’ve been able to take that sonofabitch out before he hurt you. Damnit, Kayla, you should’ve stayed back at the Winnebago.”
Before she should respond, Leelee was behind her. The woman dried her hands on an old shammy. “Here,” she said, turning Kayla toward her, “let me see, girl. Come on, now, let’s have a look.”
Kayla rolled her eyes and did as asked. Didn’t stop her from adding, “I am fine . Doesn’t even hurt.” A lie, given that with every beat of her heart her neck throbbed with waves of echoing pain, almost as if he were still choking her. “I am, as you have noted in the past, one tough little bee-yotch.”
“I think I said tough little cookie ,” Leelee mumbled. “The bruising’s bad. But it’s just that. Bruising.”
“I bruise easily. You know that.”
“Mm.” Her nurse wasn’t convinced. “Let’s see the cup.” She peered into the coffee mug, and Kayla saw the woman’s face fall. She knew it wasn’t good; Leelee’s forehead scrunched up into a little consternating ‘V’ whenever she was genuinely concerned. “That’s a lot of blood.”
Kayla felt Gil’s eyes following all of this. He wouldn’t say anything. Not now, anyway. With him, it always simmered low and slow: the man’s heart was like a tough cut of brisket. Took a while to break it down.
“Pshh. I’m fine. I feel good.”
“It’s getting worse.”
“I am as healthy as a bear. A big bear. A big happy healthy bear. Come on, Lee, you know me. I should’ve been dead six months before the world went and turned to spoiled meat. But I keep on keeping on and it’s because somebody—God or Buddha or John Travolta—wants me to keep going.” The other two stared at her, each worried in their own way. Her father’s dark pinprick eyes were the tell, with him. With
And with that, he moved fast, exerting his vampiric will. Coburn and his dog vanished into the shadows.
CHAPTER NINE
A Day in the Life of a Dead Girl
Kayla hated having to pee in the coffee mug. It was bad enough having to pee outside, though by now she’d pretty much gotten used to that. But Leelee told her she needed to see the urine, which meant having to contain the urine by pissing into a coffee mug, which further meant frequently whizzing on her own hand.
This morning was no exception.
“Shoot,” she said, wiping her hand on the grass. She hiked up her panties, then lifted the World’s Best Grandpa mug and swirled it around. The urine was dark, turbid—the color of beef broth. Leelee wasn’t going to like that.
Kayla extracted herself from underneath the blue spruce and wandered down toward the lake’s edge, where Leelee was washing clothes and where her father, Gil, was sitting on a park bench oiling the rifle.
She thrust the coffee mug under her father’s chin.
“Coffee?” she asked, bright and chipper. “Still warm!”
Gil wrinkled his nose and waved her away. “Christ, Kayla. Quit fooling around. I got a gun here.”
“Ain’t loaded.”
“You don’t know that. Besides, that’s still no reason to go waving a cup of piss under somebody’s chin.”
“Pssh, Daddy, you are the same old stick-in-the-mud that you always were, and I love you for it.” She set the mug down and kissed her father on the bridge of his crooked nose. He was a tough old guy—not big, and actually kind of short, but even still. Serious gray eyes, salt-and-pepper at his temple and in his beard, and a stripe of silver up top. Skin like saddle leather.
He just grunted at her affection, then pulled her close and tilted her chin with his thumb. It was a gentle adjustment; he had never been rough with her.
“Looks like someone strung you up in a tree, left you there overnight.” From the back of his throat, a low growl. Then he turned his eyes away from her—a flash of shame crossing his face. “I should’ve been able to take that sonofabitch out before he hurt you. Damnit, Kayla, you should’ve stayed back at the Winnebago.”
Before she should respond, Leelee was behind her. The woman dried her hands on an old shammy. “Here,” she said, turning Kayla toward her, “let me see, girl. Come on, now, let’s have a look.”
Kayla rolled her eyes and did as asked. Didn’t stop her from adding, “I am fine . Doesn’t even hurt.” A lie, given that with every beat of her heart her neck throbbed with waves of echoing pain, almost as if he were still choking her. “I am, as you have noted in the past, one tough little bee-yotch.”
“I think I said tough little cookie ,” Leelee mumbled. “The bruising’s bad. But it’s just that. Bruising.”
“I bruise easily. You know that.”
“Mm.” Her nurse wasn’t convinced. “Let’s see the cup.” She peered into the coffee mug, and Kayla saw the woman’s face fall. She knew it wasn’t good; Leelee’s forehead scrunched up into a little consternating ‘V’ whenever she was genuinely concerned. “That’s a lot of blood.”
Kayla felt Gil’s eyes following all of this. He wouldn’t say anything. Not now, anyway. With him, it always simmered low and slow: the man’s heart was like a tough cut of brisket. Took a while to break it down.
“Pshh. I’m fine. I feel good.”
“It’s getting worse.”
“I am as healthy as a bear. A big bear. A big happy healthy bear. Come on, Lee, you know me. I should’ve been dead six months before the world went and turned to spoiled meat. But I keep on keeping on and it’s because somebody—God or Buddha or John Travolta—wants me to keep going.” The other two stared at her, each worried in their own way. Her father’s dark pinprick eyes were the tell, with him. With
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