Blood & Dust. Jason Nahrung
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met them.' She opened her door, the cabin light making him flinch. 'We should get inside. It'll be more comfortable there.' She touched his hand. 'You'll be fine. I'll be with you.'
He pulled away. 'Like you were back at the house? At the silo?'
'We didn't have to save you, y'know.'
'Save me from what?'
'It was an accident, okay? None of this was meant to happen.' She stepped out and bent to look at him. 'You need something to eat, that's all.'
'That's all?'
She shut the door, leaving him in darkness again. He reluctantly levered himself from the car, then waited outside as she pulled the garage door shut. Timber slammed on timber, making Kevin jump. 'Taipan?'
'Nope, he'll be gone till tomorrow night at least, I'd say.' Kala kept her voice low. 'Don't worry. They know you're with me.'
The house loomed, dark and silent. Kala led Kevin up the few steps to the veranda. He paused at the top step as a bald, solid man stepped into the moonlight. He held a shotgun and wore a knife in a long, curved scabbard on his belt.
'This the bloke from the garage?' the man asked.
'Yep. Taipan made him.'
'Poor bastard.'
'Kevin, this is Budgie.'
The man answered with a nod.
'Who else is home?' she asked.
'Acacia, Hippie. Nigel. They might still be sleepin'.'
'We'll be quiet.'
'Reg and them went to keep the boss company. The others have already headed back to the nest.'
He opened the door for them. The back of his leather jacket bore the Night Riders' logo - a red-eyed skull with bat wings for ears. They went inside and down a central hall, passing several closed doors. There were pictures on the walls, a cabinet, but Kevin's focus was on Kala and whoever else might be here. The house smelled of dust and detergents and there was an undercurrent of something stale, something rancid - morning breath or mouldy cheese. Something else registered on Kevin's nose. 'Pizza?'
'Probably. Hippie's a pizza junkie.'
'I didn't think, you know-'
'We're not all vampires, Kevin.'
'Oh.' The word 'vampires' jarred. Despite Taipan's demonstration, Kevin still couldn't relate to it. The silos, Meg, Mira, his father: it was like a nightmare, no more real than a movie. Yet here he was, talking about pizza with these weirdos rather than sitting down to dinner at home. Tears burned in his eyes but he refused to let them fall.
'You can have some, if you want,' Kala said. 'It's not like you can't eat.'
'I'm not hungry.'
'Really?'
He shrugged. He was starving, but damned if he was going to admit it.
'I'm gonna get you something, anyway,' Kala said. 'You want a shower?' Her gaze lingered over his clothes, her nose wrinkling.
'Yeah, a shower'd be good.'
Male voices came from the kitchen, one whining, the other older, the drone of a hovering bee.
Whiny said, 'I'm tellin' ya, dude, we should be on the road. VS will be comin' hard after this.'
'No argument from me, man, but Taipan's the boss.'
'He should be bringin' us in, makin' us full blood. We aren't gonna be much use if the big kahuna sends his Gespensten-goons.'
'Hey man, I ain't in no rush to give up the sun. This fuckin' wolfbite's about all I can handle.'
A guillotine of silence fell as Kala and Kevin entered a large room with a lounge suite and dining table. Ammo boxes and guns - a motley tumble of assault rifles, sub-machineguns, handguns, sawn-off shotguns - cluttered the table; the area stank of gunpowder and gun oil. Leather jackets with the Night Rider logo hung from the chairs.
'This is Hippie, feeding his hairy face, as usual.' Kala pointed out a twenty-something bloke with long hair pulled back in a ponytail and a tattered shirt hanging almost to his knees.
The man waved a peace sign as the microwave dinged. 'Ah, McCain,' he said, and popped the door. The smell of freshly nuked pizza was overpowering.
'And Nigel,' Kala said. 'You might've noticed his board out the front on the shaggin' wagon.'
Nigel wore baggy three-quarter pants and a faded T-shirt. A headband kept his mop of sun-blond hair off his tanned forehead. Both men stank of cigarettes, and a sweeter fragrance, one Kevin had come across only rarely: marijuana. He half-heartedly held out his hand. Nigel kept his wrapped around a stubby of beer. Kevin put his hand in his pocket, feeling his face flush with the snub.
Both Hippie and Nigel had rashes on their faces, fanning out from their noses. Now that he could see Kala in the light, he realised she had it, too.
'Are you blokes-'
'Red-eyes, like Kala,' Nigel answered. 'Myxos. You soon learn to tell the difference between master and servant.'
'Bathroom's there,' Kala said, a hand on Kevin's shoulder directing him to a door at the other end of the kitchen. 'I'll find you a spare set of clothes.'
He shut the door and flipped a wire hook through a loop on the jamb to lock it.
'Jesus,' he heard Nigel say, 'how strung out is he?'
'The boss back soon?' Hippie asked.
'Clear out if you want,' Kala told them. 'I'll handle it.'
'Watch yourself,' one of the men said, Hippie maybe, the voice muffled.
Kevin had no idea what they were on about, though he could almost smell their anxiety. He stripped, noting the crusty smears on his torso, a tan pucker where Taipan had shot him. Memories of Meg, scared and bleeding, made him nauseated. You're a vampire. Taipan's words haunted him, so unbelievable he found himself doubting anything was real. Yet the throbbing ache in his chest couldn't be denied. The mineral scent of bore water clouded around him with the steam as he luxuriated under the hot shower, scrubbing himself clean, letting the water spill from his mouth. He lathered himself again and again.
A knock at the door. 'I've made you breakfast,' Kala shouted, 'and I've got you some new clothes.'
'Give me a minute.' Kevin reluctantly stepped out and dried off with the nearest towel from the rack. He opened the door and took the bundle she handed him. He dressed quickly in the jeans and flannelette shirt - not a bad fit, well-worn, the jeans spotted with faint stains. He removed a towel covering the mirror and inspected himself in the spotty, steam-dappled surface. He ran a finger across his teeth. Everything appeared normal. He tried to convince himself the events of the past hours had actually happened, that he had been turned into something other than human. Something simply unbelievable. He felt normal. Totally normal. He pinched his arm. It hurt. Touched the wound on his chest. Felt the smooth, unblemished skin of his throat where that woman, Mira, had ripped into him. She was a ghost in the back of his mind, her thighs around him; her blood in his mouth.
And what about Meg? What had he done to her? She'd been so scared; so scared and so confused. Betrayed. Staring at his reflection, he wondered just who was staring back at him. Fury gripped him. All because of Taipan. 'You sonofabitch,' he yelled, relishing the release as he pounded the mirror to fragments. He clung to the edge of the basin, panting, fighting back sobs, watching uncomprehendingly as the cuts on his knuckles slowly closed.
The door shook as Kala hit it, shouting, 'Kevin? What's going on?'
He took deep breaths, swallowing down the panic and the rage as though they were razorblades. 'It's okay, just an accident.' He clenched and unclenched his fist, willing himself to relax. The sudden violence had helped release the pressure. Hold on, he told himself. Just hold on, and this will all make sense.
But