Picky Eater

Ch 11: You're the lucky one

"Drop your phone," John instructed.

Ben did.

They smiled. Stepping off the woman, Jane approached him with the saunter of a cat with a mouse in its mouth. She grabbed one arm and John grabbed the other, lifting him off the sidewalk. The crowd went immediately to their friend's aid. Jane whispered, "If you run away again, we won't hesitate to kill the first human we see."

"If I could have everyone's attention please," John announced to the crowd. Only a fraction did, but John still pulled a bottle from his pocket. He smashed it directly in front of the crowd of LARPers and a burst of purple smoke engulfed them.

Jane pulled Ben away, but he looked back to check if they were okay. Lately, Ben was at the center of all the wreckage. Confused looks emerged as smoke vanished. Someone said, "What happened? Why are we here?"

Ben let out a relieved breath.

Melting against him, Jane ran her arm around Ben's and held his hand. She leaned her head against his shoulder. Nothing strange about it to anyone else. Lagging just behind, John stayed closed, his eyes burrowing a hole through the back of Ben's head. It was all about the confidence in their stride, the zero promise to stop.

The more they walked, the more the city was put between Ben and his coffee shop, his apartment, and his Nino. The final destination was The Grand Mystic Hotel. It was a staple in the city, lasting longer than most of the people here. Jane led him through the back of the hotel and opened a large metal door with more authority than Ben has ever held in life.

The ovens and burners caused the kitchen to become unbearably hot, competing with the summer heat outside over what's the worst. The kitchen staff didn't stop her, it could be because they were busy or used to strangers coming and going. Ben locked eyes with a random waitress and Ben caught the first spark of curiosity, but red flashed through her eyes and the waitress yawned, suddenly no longer caring. This was another bewitchment, Ben could tell, and that thought made his inside curdle and die.

They whisked Ben away to one of the hotel ballrooms. They had obviously decorated it for a wedding reception with so much white, gold, and blue. Big bouquets of white flowers everywhere, like heavy clouds. John wasted no time driving Ben's arm up his back and slamming him into the nearest tabletop. Pain exploded front to back, his arm threatening to snap like a dry twig with shattered glass pricking his face.

"Are you working for the Ventura?" Jane asked.

Ben clenched his jaw and focused on breathing. Struggling was dumb. He glanced up, searching his surroundings for an out, or at least another chance to run like hell. The nagging voice of Nino pinched his nerves, telling him repeatedly that any vampire other than him would've killed him by now. To spite Nino, Ben had to get out.

Ben's lack of an answer was enough for them. John yanked Ben up just for Jane to smack him across the face. John slammed him back down onto the table. His face pounding, Ben could already feel the swelling and the bruises. He could taste his blood. Nino was a liar on top of everything else. It definitely didn't taste good.

"You're making this harder than it has to be. If I were you, I wouldn't let myself be tortured for the sake of that family—" Jane's words caught on a realization. Her eyes dilated, narrowing in on the corner of Ben's busted mouth.

"What?" John asked.

"What indeed..." Jane's hand shot out, snatching up Ben's face and forcing his neck to turn, twisting unnaturally. She grimaced, running her thumb over the blood. John's grip loosened, echoing the woman's awe.

Thinking was a waste of time.

Ben shot his hand out, grabbed a knife, and twisted around to plunge it through John's sunglasses and right into his eye. As John screamed, Ben put his foot to John's chest and kicked him right into Jane and flung himself up. Tripping, Jane reached for him, grabbing his shirt, but Ben pulled against her grip and the frail cotton ripped right off. Ben sprinted around the corner, jumping into the elevator and gasping for air with his ribs aching.