“Keran, listen to me. You are not dreaming. Horrible things have happened, and I can’t keep fighting this on my own. I’m here because I’m stuck. You’re the only one who can help me.”
I watch with caution as Avet steps closer, treating me like the rabid dog I feel I might always be on the inside. My guts and nerves are vibrating with confusion, never knowing when they should trust my brain and when they should call it quits.
But when Avet closes the gap between us and wraps me in the first hug I have experienced in three years, everything inside of me gathers into one terrified sigh that stutters out unevenly across his shoulder.
“It’s alright,” Avet promises. “We will get you back on your feet. I would have come sooner if I had known it was this bad. I can make the draught to give you a dreamless sleep.” Then he pretends to vomit over my shoulder. “You smell terrible. Have you given up showering since I saw you last? Boy, are you lucky I showed up.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.” The corner of my mouth lifts, surprising me that a smile is possible. The movement is unfamiliar, and for a second, my brain has to communicate with the rest of me that yes, this is a smile, and yes, it is perfectly acceptable to do.
Avet and my foster dad are the only two people I ever hug. I think the world would assume I had been possessed if I opened up that tight-knit circle even the tiniest bit. “Things must be bad for the trappers if you’re here.”
Avet pulls back and then glances around as if he, too, has grown afraid of the shadows in our time apart. “We should get you somewhere safe. I’ve had a tail for days, but I’m pretty sure I shook him. Still, I’ll feel better when we’re indoors.” He slaps my meaty shoulder. “Then I’ll regale you with all the stories of my heroics.”
I chuckle, unsure when the last time was that I laughed. “I could use some good fiction.”
Avet keeps his hand on my back as he turns to the car, picking the keys from my pocket. “One condition: I’m driving. I’ve got too much to live for to risk dying in a boring way.”
“I’ve always hated that expression. It’s never going to catch on, no matter how many times you say it.”
Avet holds his nose in the air as he guides me back to the car. “You’re just as much an old man as you always were, in case you were wondering. But you drive like you’ve lost your mind, so I get to be the chauffeur.”
My footsteps slow. “I’m not drunk,” I promise. The moment the words hit the night air, I wince. They are the exact same words I used to say back when I actually was a slobbering drunk and tried to hide it from the person who knew me best. I look Avet in the eye, still surprised he is real. “I’m really not.”
Avet casts me a wan smile. “Doesn’t matter if you are; you’re still not driving.” He shuts himself in the driver’s seat, waiting until I take the place beside him before he pulls back onto the main road.
A thousand memories just like this one flood me, breaking free from the dam I built in my brain. It was meant to try and suppress the happiness that often feels like pain.
A deep breath finds me. The trees don’t look quite as menacing, now that Avet is here.
“You look different,” I muse, wanting to know about each fight that earned him a new scar. Yet the other part of me knows I don’t need to hear another story about a brawl with one of Bel’s creatures.
Avet cuts me with a sidelong glance. “Yes, well, you look terrible, so I’d say you look the same. I trust your home has a working shower?”
I snort at his dig. “You’re welcome to it.”
“I meant for you.”
The few beats of silence build, begging the question of how long it will take for Avet to crack. He’s not here just to check on me. After the way we left things, I’m surprised he ever would want to see me again. “Things must be bad for you to come find me.”
Avet purses his lips. “Keran, I…”
But he swears, pumping the brakes when a figure appears a few yards ahead.
It’s not until I catch a flash of red from the person’s eyes that my voice climbs to a shout. “Vampire!” I warn Avet.
The vampire is wearing unkempt clothes and has a crazed look about him, his hair sticking up in the back.
Blood, blood, blood. A vampire’s focus is rarely on anything other than its unsavory sustenance.
Avet growls, “Not again!”
Though a car can’t do a single thing to kill a vampire, it can certainly slow it down, so we can gather our bearings and ready for the fight. My muscles prepare themselves without caveat, having done this hundreds of times before.
Fighting a vampire is like riding a bike. No matter how long it’s been, my body remembers the dance well. I need to stab the creature in its tiny heart with wood, which is no small feat.
Avet stomps on the gas, bashing the car into the figure. The bump of the body on the hood of the car, then on the top, then on the trunk does nothing to convince me this will be an easy win. They never are.
Avet stops the car instead of trying to outrun the thing. He pulls his signature eight-inch-long wood-laced silver sword from its sheath on his hip. “Now!”