Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
With every word, Kyle’s system is flooded worse with the desperation and horror that lives inside Mikey’s heart, pouring into Kyle through his Reach, filling him up to the top. Kyle’s own stomach twists with Mikey’s urgency, making him feel like he might throw up whatever he last ate. What did he last eat? Has he eaten anything all day?
Kyle fends off the assault of emotions as best as he can, his jaw tightening. “I don’t plan to leave you,” he states in a drone.
Mikey’s eyes light up. “Really?”
“But I don’t know how to get you out.” Kyle peers over his shoulder. Is it possible that Salazo can hear him? That Lazarus and all the other vampires can hear every word he says? Did they all just hear Mikey’s desperate pleas? Or is everyone too drunk on college student blood to pay attention? Perhaps now’s the perfect time. While they are all blood-drunk and distracted. While they are partying. “The sun’s down,” says Kyle, thinking it over.
“So?”
Kyle eyes him. “I may not look like them, but the sun can still burn me something awful. It’s important it’s down.”
Mikey’s eyes flicker as he lets go of Kyle’s shirt, perhaps having forgotten in his excitement what Kyle is.
“Don’t worry,” says Kyle wearily. “The last thing on earth I want to do is bite you. Like I said, the only blood I drink is my boyfriend’s, and that’s just ‘cause he wants me to.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Mikey finally nods. “Alright. I trust you, man.”
“You’ve got no choice,” states Kyle, perhaps unnecessarily. That’s when his eyes land on the pet leash lying on the ground, likely dropped there when Drake left. After listening to the echoes of laughter and revelry continuing in the other parts of the cavern for a while, Kyle comes to a decision. “Okay, here’s the plan: we’re doing Drake’s plan. I’m gonna walk you.”
Mikey makes a face. “What? No fucking way, man.”
“He had the best idea. It’s the only way I can ensure your safety.” Kyle peers back at Mikey. “You got a better idea?”
“I—Just—We can just—” His resolve crumbles as he sinks against the bars, deflated. “No.”
“Good.” Kyle swipes the leash off the ground and tosses it through the bars of the cage. After a sigh of resignation, Mikey picks it up with the petulance of a stubborn child. As he figures out how to put it on, Kyle grabs the bars of the cage and lifts—only to discover it is significantly less easy to lift than Drake made it look. “Duck,” instructs Kyle just as Drake did before. Mikey, still figuring out the leash, crouches low to the ground. When Kyle realizes there is no way to lift this heavy thing in the air, he resolves to simply allowing it to topple over, letting Mikey crawl out the bottom. When the cage crashes onto its side, both Kyle and Mikey freeze, praying with panicked eyes that no one comes to investigate the sound.
Mercifully, no one does.
Perhaps the noise is assumed to be a reckless partier who just knocked into a stack of decorative priceless china that could have gone for hundreds of thousands of dollars in an auction.
Kyle and Mikey look at one another, nerves wound tight, their eyes wide with uncertainty.
Kyle reaches out his hand.
Mikey, now with a thick spiked collar locked snugly around his neck, offers Kyle the end of the chain with a surprising lack of hesitation.
Kyle sees this as an act of trust. When he accepts the leash, he doesn’t take it lightly. “Say nothing,” he softly coaches him. “Bow your head. Look no one in the eye.”
“Fucking fuck,” whimpers Mikey, petrified.
Deciding they’re as ready as they’ll ever be, Kyle grips the leash tighter, takes a breath, then heads off. Mikey appears to have trouble walking at first, his legs stiff with fear, the leash tugging on his neck, but soon they find their stride, walking off.
For a while, no one is in sight, only their laughter echoing in all directions, sometimes distant, sometimes closer. Kyle and Mikey continue to move, following the path between piles and mounds and walls of invaluable things. Mikey trips, stumbling into Kyle’s back, mutters, “S-Sorry.” This happens a few times.
The path opens to a larger area, the center of which holds no less than seven vampires, male and female, engaged in some kind of drunken orgy, cackling, one strumming a lute, another one singing along, one appearing to do naked yoga. Kyle pays them no mind as he walks by, attempting to maintain a look of total indifference. It isn’t easy, as their presence causes Mikey’s heart rate to skyrocket, which in turn forces Kyle to contain even more panic frothing inside him. He tightens his muscles as he walks, wrestling Mikey’s alarm into submission, breathing deep and long breaths, determined to get the fuck out of here.