Chambers

Seven

Baz

Eventually, I found some cows, feeling level again. Like I've regained all sense. I found a chicken coop and some mangy coyotes pawing at the wire. I typically don't kill predators, but I might as well cancel out the loss I just created.

I feel more level now, more alive, but not great. Simon's still irritated with me. I still have to go back and face the music (or Simon yelling at me, which I can't argue being close to music. That's asking too much of fate).

Even though I've been given a pretty thorough preview about what tragedy awaits me when I enter that dreaded Hampton Inn, I still run. It's starting to rain, but it's not pouring. I only feel a couple of drops in my hair, cold as it seeps down to my scalp, kind of refreshing. Whatever droplets splatter against my face and eyes cool me down. I'm known for being colder than average, but there's heat in my cheeks and the back of my neck, which is definitely new. At most, Simon's described me as "room temperature". Surely the blood splashing around in my stomach is helping. I'm so nervous. I'm terrified because there's a high percentage that Simon Snow is kicking me out of his life for good.

"You need to go hunt."

In other words, for the love of Magick, get the hell out of my sight. I'd rather be alone in this hotel room than have to look at you right now. I don't know this for sure. I'm great at presuming things, but it's exhausting. If he wants this or not, I'll just have to ask him. Crowley, just tell me, Simon. I can't keep torturing myself with all this guesswork. Just tell me you want me gone. Bunce and I will switch rooms then we'll sit on opposite sides of the plane. We can save Watford together. I'll gladly let you take all the glory and we'll go our separate ways.

If Nicodemus somehow survives us, I'll watch over my family like a hound (probably the closest father will get to allowing an animal indoors). I can stay up at night and talk with Fiona when things get rough either in my head or in reality. She's listened to me for years and has saved me too many times already. Protecting her from her sad excuse of an ex-fiance sounds like a decent enough exchange for some therapy sessions, I think.

When I cross the other side of the motorway, it's hit me that Fiona hasn't called. I check my phone the moment my feet hit the sidewalk, out of the way of any oncoming cars. She hasn't called me at all.

Bunce's mother called, and that was when things were bad.

I mean, Fiona's a vampire hunter. And she's certainly made herself a reputation. The moment she hears vampires are somewhere, consider them burned. Nicodemus doesn't get some kind of special pass. If I wasn't the only connection she had left to my mother, I bet she would've slit my throat the moment she found out I was Turned. Luckily, we're knitted together by blood and rough likeness so we talk instead. Apart from Simon, Fiona might as well know everything about me (that I share at least).

But she hasn't called. She tends to if no one's heard from me (which is often). Normally, I'm in the library studying with Bunce, so everything is fine when she does.

I know it hasn't been long. We've been in America for, what, a week and maybe a few days? But I wouldn't be so concerned if my aunt wasn't a vampire hunter in an area where vampires are attacking and she has yet to call. She would call me in this situation. At the very least, if she was busy, even in the middle of decapitating someone, she'd at least demand my whereabouts.

I rub my face, my eyes, irritated by the wind and water stinging them. I find her contact in my phone. There are people at the front of the hotel, Ubers still dropping people off from the airport, so I head to the side as I listen to the ringing. I need to get away from the streetlights so no one can see me and my shame.