American Vampire. Jennifer Armintrout
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enough to F. U. Up. He didn’t give her the satisfaction of acknowledging her remark. “The FBI has probably tried to get in here a million times, you’ve just never noticed. Think about it—all you people suddenly missing, not contacting your loved ones, not paying your bills. Heck, someone in this town has to have a car loan they defaulted on. You’re so far lost, even a skip tracer can’t find you.”
Stoke stopped rocking and leaned forward in his chair. “We know all about that, boy. If you ain’t FBI, and you ain’t the IRS or some other government agent, just a normal guy, how’d you get here?”
“That’s something I am dying to find out.” The sooner he found out how he’d gotten in, the sooner he could use that information to get out.
“Ain’t we all?” Stoke glanced up at Jessa. “I don’t know what you think I’m gonna do about him.”
“I couldn’t just keep this kind of news from you. You’re the head of the town council. You’re the sheriff. They’ll all want to know about him, won’t they? Besides, he needs a place to stay,” Jessa piped up, her arms folded tight across her chest. Everything about her body language said that she wasn’t intimidated by this man, from the way she leaned casually against his door to the expression of boredom on her face. She feared him, though. Graf’s sense of smell was too good to miss that.
Stoke’s mouth canted sideways in the depths of his beard as he considered. Finally, he said, “You got that big house all to yourself out there, don’t you?”
She shook her head adamantly. “No, he can’t stay.”
“Put a crimp in your love life, does he?” Mrs. Stoke said blandly from the kitchen.
“Marjorie, you stay out of it, now,” the sheriff warned. Then, in the same warning tone, “Jessa, there are too many people in town and not enough room. What am I supposed to do with him?”
“Put him in over at the school,” she said with an exasperated sigh. The fear smell intensified, but so did her stubborn insistence that Graf wouldn’t stay with her. “Nobody’s using it!”
“Why, you know I’m using it for the jail. And school is neutral property, for the community. It ain’t a hotel.” Sheriff Stoke looked Graf up and down, like he was considering buying a cow. “Why don’t you take him on down to June’s Place and see if anyone there will take him? If you don’t want an extra hand around your place, there’s plenty who might.”
“I’m sure you’ll find something to do with him,” Marjorie put in dryly.
Apparently, Jessa had a reputation. Was that why she wanted him out of the house? So she wouldn’t sleep with him? Jessa, so uptight and moody, yet so unable to resist a roll in the hay with any guy who stumbled across her path. It was actually kind of hot. The reality was probably not that interesting. She probably just didn’t trust him, and didn’t want him to get in the way of her romance with a married man.
Jessa made a disgusted noise, but she didn’t do anything else to express her disapproval. “We better get heading over there, then.”
“I’m not quite done with your friend here,” Sheriff Stoke said, leaning back and putting his big, square hands on his knees. “I don’t believe in coincidences. Him just showing up looks a little fishy.”
“In my own defense, Sheriff, this whole town looks a little fishy,” Graf replied, annoyed. “It wasn’t my idea to get stuck here. And I will gladly leave at the first opportunity.”
“Wouldn’t we all?” Stoke agreed, but his expression was still hard, accusing. “I’m gonna have my eye on you, boy. Just keep your nose clean, and we won’t have any problems.”
“Squeaky, I assure you.” Graf stood, eager to be out of Elvis hell and away from these people who probably made a habit of needlessly mistrusting others.
“You have a good night, now,” Stoke said with a nod as Graf and Jessa stepped through the door and down the cinder-block steps. “And, Graf, keep your eye out. You got hit by It once, but until it draws blood, it’ll keep coming after you.”
“Well, that was a waste,” Graf muttered as they crossed the broken-down bridge.
“Not a waste, believe me.” Jessa sounded more worried than she had on the way over, definitely more frightened than she had in the trailer. “If we hadn’t come by, we would have heard about it.”
“What did he mean, about It drawing blood?” Was It some kind of mutant super-vampire? Graf didn’t know if he liked the idea of something else above him on the food chain.
Jessa’s mouth opened and her brow scrunched up. “Uh, well, that depends on who you ask. Some people in town have a theory about its movements and patterns.”
“You don’t agree with it?” How unlike her, to be contrary.
She shrugged. “I just have experience that runs counter to it.”
He waited a moment as they walked to see if she would continue explaining. When she didn’t, he snapped, “You wanna let me in on it?”
With a heavy sigh, she explained, “Except for the people It has killed, once it injures somebody it never goes back for them.”
“Could be a coincidence.” Graf kicked a rock and watched it bounce across the asphalt in the twilight. He frowned when he realized how entertaining that was to him.
“That’s what I’m leaning toward, myself. It does seem a little weird, though.” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head.
“No, tell me.” This was the kind of stuff he needed to learn so he could get out of town as fast as possible.
“Well.” She hesitated. “According to Mitch Moody, when It cornered him in his barn, it slashed his arm, then immediately backed off. Like it didn’t like the way he reacted or got bored with him.”
“Maybe he didn’t smell tasty,” Graf wondered aloud. “I mean, maybe there was something about the guy’s blood. Animals won’t eat prey that smells sick.”
“It doesn’t eat people,” Jessa snapped with disgust. “You don’t have to be so gruesome-minded.”
He changed the subject quickly. “What was up with the sheriff’s wife? Did you piss on her birthday cake or something?”
Jessa didn’t answer. She kept her head down as they walked, still hugging her arms around her chest.
“Well, let me feel free to form my own conclusions, then,” he went on. “You have a reputation.”
“What are you, from the sixties or something?” she snapped. “A ‘reputation'? Who am I, Rizzo?”
“I see I have struck a nerve.” He followed behind her, kicking stones down the road. “And, while dated, reputation is a perfectly good word. You have one. Either that, or you stole Marjorie’s boyfriend when the two of you were in high school.”
Jessa stopped walking and dropped her hands to her hips. Without facing him, she ground out, “Yes, everybody in town thinks I’m a whore. Are you happy?”
“I don’t care either way. But if I’m going to be shacking up with a woman, I would prefer her to be a loose woman.”
The minute she turned around, Graf knew his joke had not been interpreted in the spirit with which he had intended it. Jessa’s hand slashed out, her palm connecting with his cheek with a crack. It stung a little, but he made sure to grimace and rub his jaw. Little tricks like that made a vampire seem more human.
“Sorry,” he said, and he meant it this time. Being an asshole on purpose was one thing; being an asshole by accident was worse, somehow.
Jessa shook her head and turned back to the road, marching away from him with purpose.
“Look, that was uncalled-for, I admit.”