"I can almost forget that everything isn't perfect when I'm with you." I groan. "That was corny. Can't believe I said it."
"I like it. Hey, I've got an idea." He grabs my hand and starts pulling me down an alley.
"Michael, what are you doing? Rachel said no lingering."
"So just tell her we got slowed down by the crowd. We're back on a street, heading in a direction opposite to the one we should be going.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"Trust me."
"I do. You know that."
He retrieves a flashlight from one of the pockets of his cargo pants. The bright light illuminates our path better than the occasional street lamp. More out of habit than worry, I glance around, taking in our surroundings. I'm familiar with the area, but the street is deserted. No glow coming from any of the windows we pass.
We reach a large brick building with a chain fence around it. Dawson Elementary. Like all the schools, it was named to honor a war hero.
"Here, hold this," Michael says, and hands me the flashlight. Focusing the beam on him, I watch as he removes a small object from a pocket, opens it, and takes out two metal instruments. He sticks them in the padlock.
Are you picking a lock?" I ask, stunned. "Where did you learn to do that?"
"Advanced vampire defense training isn't only about fighting moves."
"You're kidding."
"Nope. We have to be able to get to the vamps." He grins as the lock opens.
"Can you teach me to do that?" I ask.
He pushes open the gate. "Sure."
He takes the flashlight from me, then folds his hand around mine and leads me into the schoolyard.
"Never thought we'd be breaking into a school," I whisper, not certain why I suddenly feel like we need to be quiet.
"Not the school. The playground."
We walk around to the back and my gaze falls on one of the swings.
"Remember—" he begins, but I don't wait for him to finish. I run to the swing and jump onto the bench, standing with my hands wrapped around the metal links. Once a traveling trapeze troupe arrived on the Night Train. They set up in the street and gave an amazing performance. It was shortly after Brady had died. Although I thought I was too old for swings, afterward Michael and I snuck off here one afternoon. We had the best time.
"Daring Dawn returns!" he announces, setting the flashlight so the spotlight is on me.
"And what about Amazing Michael?"
"I'm here, too," he says.
He places his hands above mine and puts one foot on the wooden bench before shoving off with the other. We're bigger than we were before, and the swing protests with a loud squeak and moan.
"Is this going to hold us?" I ask.
"Guess we'll find out."
We start moving in tandem, a rocking motion that takes us higher and higher. Our bodies brush over and over with our movements. It's different now from when we were kids. There's an electricity here, an awareness. Michael is so much taller than me, and I have to bend my head back to see his familiar features, to meet his gaze.
He's always been there for me. I know he always will be.
"I don't remember us going this high before," I say as we swoosh forward, then back. It's a little frightening.
"We weren't as strong. Didn't have as much weight."
"We thought it would be so exciting to run away with that troupe," I remind him. "I wonder why they never came back."
"Maybe they found a place they liked and decided to stay." "Maybe." I like his explanation better than the one that was traipsing through my head: that vampires got them.
Michael releases his hold on one of the chains and cups my face with his palm. Our weight is no longer balanced, and we swing wildly. I scream and Michael covers my mouth with his, swallowing the sound. Then the crazy careening shifts to my heart as we deepen the kiss. Our motion slows as we're concentrating on each other rather than the swing. His other arm comes around me, pressing us close. When we're barely moving, he draws back and touches his forehead to mine.
"That is certainly a trick we never performed before," I say.
"I liked it."
"Me too." I touch his bristled jaw. "I needed this. The past few days, weeks … it seems so hard sometimes."
"Yeah, I know."
For a moment I look past him, to remember this hallowed ground of memories even better. And that's when I see the two black orbs in the bushes, reflecting the moonlight. My pulse kicks up. "Michael, we're not alone."
He leaps off the swing and is gripping his stake in a fighting stance before I even realize what he is going to do.
"Where?" he asks.
I jump to the ground and take my place beside him. "It was over there, near the side of the building, in the bushes. It looked like two black eyes. I don't see them now."
"Maybe it was a cat or something."
"Maybe. But it was an awfully tall cat."
Slowly he crouches, snatches up the flashlight, and sweeps it around the playground. Nothing.
Suddenly a bloodcurdling scream rips through the night. It seems to be coming from near the school, near where I saw the eyes. Then a heavy silence descends that's almost as frightening as the scream.
"Stay here," Michael orders.
I grab his arm. "No, Michael. We go together." My mouth is dry, but my palms are damp.
"Yeah, okay, but stay behind me. Watch my six," he says, meaning I should keep an eye out and make sure no one is sneaking up in back of us.
Cautiously, we move toward the school, around the side of the building. The entire way Michael is sweeping the flashlight over the area. We step around the hedges, and in front of us lies a prone figure. Michael's light falls onto the still body.
In the distance, I hear the echo of pounding footsteps as someone speeds away.
"Don't go after him," I say, knowing that's what Michael wants to do, but already the sound is absorbed by the night. He'd never find him.
Michael sends the beam around us, illuminating the area. Except for the fact that someone died here, it looks undisturbed. The light returns to rest on the victim, spotlighting him more clearly. His mouth is wide open. Fangs protruding. Half his throat is gone, like someone—something—tried to devour him.
"A vampire," Michael says in a low voice. "What the hell happened?"
My mind jumps to Victor. Did he save me again from a vampire?
"Why is his throat like that?" I ask.
"No idea," Michael says. "The bite marks, the savagery … it looks like vampire work."
"A vamp killing another vamp?"
"I don't know. Maybe he mistook him for a human and tried to feed. Realizing his mistake, he went for the heart."
He shines his light on the wooden stake jammed into the vamp's chest.
"I need to call Rachel," I tell him.
"Sure, go ahead."
I can tell he's in ultra-alert mode, once again using the flashlight to scour the area around us.
I remove my cell phone from my pocket, so grateful to have it again. I dial her number, wondering how I'm going to explain what Michael and I have discovered: We have a new kind of monster in the city.