Bad Blood (previously known as "Let's Be Animals")

Chapter 8

Sorry this took so long!  I've had it written forever, but because of some miscommunication between Hezaa and I, it was only now typed up.  :P  We have a few more chapters coming your way though!

~Ari

...

Ch. 8

(The night before)

(Zoey’s POV)

Despite my assurance that I was in fact NOT a werewolf, the man took me to a warehouse just off the town square that I’d thought abandoned for as long as I could remember.

“Home sweet home,” he muttered to himself.  He didn’t look all that fond of the old building to me, and I couldn’t blame him.  It had always been an eyesore.

He led me in, calling out for his fellow vampires.  (Not that I believe him for a second about that. I still thought this whole thing was an elaborate practical joke. A bad one.)  No one answered.

“Must be out to hunt,” he murmured.  “Oh well. Come on, Zoey. I’ll find you somewhere to sleep.”

The dark-haired man led me to a small section of the huge factory room, blocked off by huge crates and some heavy machinery.  Inside the separate space was what you could call a bedroom.  A hammock hung from two sturdy hooks in the corner.  Some smaller crates were being used as tables or for storage.  A small trash bin sat by the entrance, overflowing with – I wrinkled my nose – dead animals, mostly rodents like mice and squirrels.  The weirdo grabbed it, embarrassed, and took it elsewhere.  He returned with the trash bin moments later, now empty.  I was busy looking at some of the things on the crates, particularly a few old photos.  One in the center, obviously the most treasured, depicted the man, smiling and not at all creepy, with a beautiful woman.

The man slapped the picture facedown.

 “Who is she?” I asked

“No one,” he lied gruffly.  “She died a long time ago.”

“She had to be someone if she died,,” I insisted, but earned nothing but a dark glower and a suggestion to go to bed.  I slipped carefully into the hammock as the man sat down on the dusty warehouse floor.

“Aren’t you going to sleep, too?” I asked.

“And leave you unguarded?”  He scoffed.  “I’m not that stupid, kid. Robert would kill me if you escaped.”  He paused.  “He’d also kill you if I left you unattended.”

Something about the way he said this put me on edge.

“You have to sleep sometime,” I reminded him.

“So do you,” he replied.  I heard shuffling on the floor; he was getting comfortable.  “I don’t need much sleep. A lot less than you do.”

“I’ve pulled four consecutive all-nighters before,” I warned him.  “And I took a nap earlier today. I can stay up all night if I have to.”

“Same here.”

I ground my teeth.  Man, this guy was irritating.  But I’d show him.  I would wait until he fell asleep.  I would escape.

An hour of full silence later, my captor spoke up again.  “Just give up, will you? You have no hope of running away.”

“You don’t know that,” I snapped.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he replied.  I heard him stand and approach the hammock.  I sat up, immediately wary of him.  I didn’t trust that glint in his eye.