Heartbeats

Chapter Thirty

I woke to the smell of smoke and the cries of a fire alarm. I couldn't bolt up from the bed fast enough, tripping over myself as I scrambled down the hall, through the living room, and into the kitchen. Steam cascaded out of the sink as water doused a pan of blackened eggs. Charles stared at the mess while his hands tied themselves into his shaggy hair. An old denim apron was tied loosely around his body.

Arching my eyebrows, I grabbed the back of one of our stools before clearing my throat.

Charles jumped, turning toward me. "Oh, hey. I'm the guy who murdered breakfast. Please don't kill me."

My tense demeanor dissipated as I rolled my eyes and crawled up on to the stool, using it to get me close enough to turn the fire alarm off. Charles turned the water off and sat next to me. I tossed a muffin to him from the counter just as the old grandfather clock in the entry rang the time, gonging loudly twelve times.

"Caleb had asked to meet with us today. I told him we had a rough night so we could take our time making it to meet him," Charles explained.

I nodded slowly before resting my forehead on the counter, fully feeling the weight of the future on me. "Just let me get dressed, and we'll go, okay? You can, uh," I looked around to find something for him to do other than unnerve me while I changed. "Play with Tesla!"

My dog was napping under the kitchen table, but when he heard me say his name he perked up immediately and started to wag his tail. Until he saw Charles, at which point he laid his ears back and bared his teeth.

"I think I'll just clean up my attempt at breakfast," Charles said nervously, slowly moving toward the sink. "Just let me know when you're out."

I rolled my eyes at the two as I slid off the stool. Tesla jumped up and was immediately at my heels, tailing me to my room. He jumped up on the bed and made a nest from my comforter while I changed into jeans and an old tee shirt, grabbing a hoodie for good measure. When I returned to the living room Charles was staring out the window, his demeanor unusually serene.

"Ready?" He hadn't even turned to look at me when he spoke, catching me off guard.

"Yeah," I chirped, an annoyingly nervous sound.

We walked about a third of a mile to the gate. I had to climb the stupid security measure because the camera didn't pick up our motion and our combined weight wasn't nearly enough to open the gate. As I landed on the other side a little roughly I could hear the squealing protest of unoiled metal, and the gate rolled open. Charles walked through nonchalantly. I stared at him in disbelief.

"How did you...?"

He whistled cheerfully, walking past me and digging in his pockets to find his keys. "There's a keypad on the inside to open it. It's on the wall between the two gates. Come on Jacie; you live here," he smiled. White. Dazzling. Fangs.

I shivered, scowled, and crawled into the passenger side of the truck. As it sputtered to a seemingly unwelcome start I wished for a silent drive.

This was not what I got.

"There are a few ways to kill us. Vampires, that is. Blood deprivation usually happens when we're starved, kind of like dehydration. Our body stops functioning properly. The only way we wever actually die is when our brain goes, though. This can take months, even years, to kill us. I've heard of people who would drain us of blood, which quickens the process. We bleed like humans, but heal quick enough to stay alive. We regenerate limbs pretty easily. Impaling the heart may be the most efficient way. It's our epicenter, so as long as the stake isn't removed and we can't heal. But if we can remove it there's no point.