Teeth

Chapter Sixteen

The squeak of rubber against the tiled floor vibrated in Spencer's ears distracting him. He paused, staring at a blank patch of wall before he began moving again. Perhaps distraction was good. It had to be better than waiting. When he reached the door he edged one of the blinds up, careful to keep his hand out of the path of sunlight. Only, none came. He lowered his head and glanced through the gap. Dawn was fast approaching but had not yet arrived. There was still time.

It was a nice coffee shop, one of those cool little independent places that had bookshelves crammed with paperbacks, comfy chairs, and didn't kick you out the moment you finished your drink. The chairs didn't match and the tables were scratched to hell but the drinks were cheap and delicious and the food was handmade. It was the kind of place he would have hung out back before he'd been turned. Well, if he could have afforded it, he would have hung out there.

Spencer glanced over at the woman. She hammered on the bathroom door again, calling out to Thomas. Her hair was dishevelled and her tanned skin had lost any glow it usually held. She glanced over her shoulder at him.

"Aren't you going to do something?" she demanded.

"Like what?"

"Get him out of there? Call the police? Anything!"

Spencer shook his head and went back to his pacing.

"You don't want me to get him out of there," he said. "And no, I'm not calling the police. He will be here to sort this out."

"Who?"

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the look of panic on her face. He gritted his teeth and looked away from her. The scent of blood had consumed everything in the small coffee shop and his hunger was clouding his senses. The woman smelled good... too good. It was becoming distracting and not the kind of distraction he wanted. It was the kind of thing he was trying to keep himself distracted from.

Spencer froze at the sound, a subtle click and then the chiming of artificial bells. He spun on his heel, leaping across the shop. He wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her back against his chest and snatched at the phone in her hand.

"I said no!" he snarled.

"I don't care!" she cried back, frantically trying to hit the numbers while keeping the phone from his reach. "He killed people!"

Spencer grasped the phone and pried it from her fingers. Her sob shuddered through him, and after pocketing the device, he dragged her over to a comfy looking chair.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, guiding her into the cushions. "This is horrifying for you, I get that."

"How is it not horrifying for you?"

Spencer reached out and carefully tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She flinched but didn't pull away.

"He was telling the truth."

 "Oh, don't be ridiculous," she snapped, batting his hand away. "He's been too stressed with his internship. He snapped, you know, mentally. He's not..."

"Do you know how difficult it is to bite through someone's neck deep enough to get blood?"

The woman froze and stared up at him, her eyes wide.

"You saw what he did," Spencer insisted. "He didn't use a knife. He didn't shoot those people. He tore through seven necks in less than a minute."

"And you're..."

"The same."

She stared at her thighs. Her fingers curling around her knees and digging in tight as she pulled her legs up to her chest. Her face had a vacant look to it and Spencer sat down on the corner of a worn coffee table, watching her. Thomas had locked himself in the back room with the bodies. He was probably taking too much from them but there was nothing he could do for him right now. No, he couldn't help the young vampire, but he could make sure this woman didn't call the police or go running into the street to tell everyone she could find that there was a vampire massacre going on in a dinky little coffee shop.