I'm kind of ashamed of this one.  The writing is fine.  It's just... I couldn't think of anything more creative than vampires.  Lesbian vampires, even.

At least they don't sparkle.

Katya

By David Goodner

 

            Keep moving.  Find some people, a crowd.  Where is everyone?

            “Justine?  Where are you?”  Her voice is sickly sweet, falsely friendly.  “You’re not scared, are you?”

            The mall is right up ahead, open late on Friday nights because of the club and the movie theatre.  The automatic doors slide open for me.  The mechanical voice says “Welcome to Nolan Pines Mall.  Please come inside.”  It offers me no protection.  But there are people inside.

            I’m down on the end with the arcade and bowling alley.  Loud music blares out of the opening, different than the not quite so loud music blaring from the mall’s speakers.  Should I go in?  No.  There’s no way out but the emergency exits.  I have to be able to slip away unnoticed, to get far enough ahead that she can’t follow me, then to get into a house.  I’ll go to my brother’s.  We don’t get along, but he’ll let me in, and he’s never invited Katya over.

            I pause for just a moment, scanning the crowd.  Are any of the others here?  They love to play games.  Did they just heard me this way?

            The department store at the other end of the mall has three exterior exits.  Can I make it?  It’s late.  A lot of stores are closing up.  Steel cages roll down from the ceiling, most only pulled half-way down so far.  The crowds are thinning out, too. 

I shed my jacket and stuff it into a trashcan.  I pull my hair out of its ponytail.  If I can change my appearance enough, maybe I can throw them off.

(In my heart, I know it won’t work.)

Just a few more minutes, just keep walking.  My breath thunders in my ears.  I can’t believe everyone isn’t staring at me.  Somehow, I keep it together, keep walking at a pace faster than normal but not so fast I attract attention.

Is that Katya up on the second level?  Is she waiving to me?  No, some other redhead, in a different outfit, even.  I’m jumping at shadows. 

I’d saved my cell phone from my jacket pocket.  I can’t call the police.  They can’t stop her.  No one can.  But a cab.  If I can get a cab to meet me at the mall, we can get away.  Katya and the others are on foot.  They couldn’t keep up with a car, could they?

“Metro Personal Transport,” says the bored dispatcher on the other end.

I try to control my breath.  “I need a cab.  I’m at Nolan Pines Mall, and I need a ride as fast as possible.”

“We have a limo in the area.  We can pick you up in five minutes, but there’s a $50 dollar minimum.”

“FINE, that’s fine.  I’ll pay it.  I’ll be at the tire shop entrance.  On the south side.”

Something flickers behind me.  I turn, nearly drop the phone, but there’s nothing.

“Did you hear me, miss?  I need to know how you intend to pay.”

I’d left all my money in my bag at the club.  Thank god I knew my credit card number.

“Credit card, Amex.  Is that okay?”  If this was one of the places that didn’t take American Express, I was going to die.

“That’ll be fine.”

I give the guy my number while trying to keep my eyes on everything at once.  As I pass the food court, there are more people, more smells: grease from the burger joint, meat-smell from the little Mongolian style grill, sin incarnate from the Cinnabon.

Actually, I’d learned what sin incarnate really smelled like tonight, a little musky with the hint of apples: Katya’s perfume.

They don’t seem to be following me.  Maybe I really had lost them.  The smells from the food court might slow them down.  I duck down an employee only isle.  I’d worked here once.  The tunnel lead back outside, but only a few yards away from the department store’s tire section.  Some guy in a hairnet says “hey…” but doesn’t try to stop me.  I wouldn’t have tried to stop anyone, either, not for minimum wage and a free burger a night.

I get to the store.  There’s no limo.  The night is cold without my jacket, and in my short skirt.  It’s dark.  The streetlamps don’t illuminate much beyond isolated circles of pavement. I stand by the door, locked at this hour, and try to figure out where else I can run  now.

A white limo pulls up in front of me.  The window rolls down.  “You call for a ride, miss?”

Ohmygodi’mgoingtolive, I think.  “Yes!  Yes.  I need to get over to Farmington.” 

I reach for the door, but the driver is already getting out to let me in.  It seems to take forever.  I sink into the seat, which is the most comfortable leather upholstery I’ve ever felt.  The limo drives off, headed for the highway and safety.

“Justine, I’m so glad  you could make it.  We’re going to have such fun at the club tonight.  Your new sisters are waiting for you.”  Katya smiles, sitting in the seat across from me, her legs crossed in black satin leggings.  Her fangs gleam perfectly white in the dark compartment of the limo.  “I know changes like this are scary, baby, but once you join the family, I know you’