I notice that her eyes have finally moved from my face, and are now transfixed on my neck. What the hell is going on here? Has she completely lost it? Is she back into drugs? How didn’t I notice before we got to this point? My mind is frantically piecing together the last few weeks, scrutinizing Piper’s dodgy behavior, disappearing acts, and then her sudden return to normal with barely any explanation at all.
“Piper,” I whisper. “No matter what you’ve gotten into this time, I’m here for you. I’m never going to leave you. You don’t have to try to scare me, to push me away. We’re family.”
“That’s what I keep telling myself,” she says. Her eyes are hooded, she’s on the edge of her seat, and I can see that she’s still staring at my neck. “We. Are. Family, I must have said those words a thousand times in my mind in the last thirty minutes, but with every passing second, the sound of your blood rushing through your veins gets louder and louder. I told myself I was fine. I told myself I would never hurt you. Not Kit. Not the one person who is always there for me. But here we are. Seconds away from me ripping your throat out, and no matter how many times I tell myself that hurting you will kill me and I’ll never be able to forgive myself, I can’t help but wonder what you’ll taste like. How your warm blood will feel washing over my tongue, coating my teeth, my fangs.”
Piper snarls, and I feel the breath hitch in my throat as the reality of the situation sinks in. Her lips curl back as a low growl escapes her, and my eyes are drawn toward her teeth. Pipers perfectly white, straight teeth. I gasp, pressing my back further into the sofa as if that will be enough to save me from the two sharp as knives canines I’m one hundred percent sure weren't there a few hours ago. My mouth drops open, and I can hear my ragged, uneven breaths as everything falls into place, and I get a clear view of the impossible picture in front of me. Piper’s shadiness the last couple of weeks, her disappearing act an hour into the first party we’ve gone to in forever, the flask of blood she tried to hide, her rigid, predatory behavior. My best friend is a vampire, and I think she’s going to kill me.
For a second, I think I’m about to blackout again. My chest is tight like someone has a death grip on my heart, and I can hear my own blood pulsing in my ears, which terrifies me. If I can hear it, surely she can, just another thing tempting her to bite into me. I feel the room shake around me, and I look down at my sweat-soaked, trembling hands before pressing my eyes shut. I force myself to take deep breaths to pull it together somehow. This is Piper, I tell myself. No matter how strong the monster inside of her is, she’s stronger. I just have to remind her of that. After another deep breath, I decide I’m ready to do this, to talk my best friend off the ledge, to convince her that we are in this together. When I pull my eyes open and raise them from my hands, my heart clenches in my chest. She’s gone. The chair across from me is empty. I look around the room wide-eyed, where is she?
“Piper?” I call out, too afraid to move, to search the apartment for her. The look in her eyes as she inched to the edge of the chair burns in my mind, she was animalistic like a predator, ready to pounce, ready to kill.
The irony of this is not lost on me, Piper has been a vegetarian since the third grade when she talked her nanny into buying her a book about animal agriculture. For most kids, the whole ‘meat comes from cute animals’ thing is horrifying, until the next time their parents bring home McDonald's, but for Piper, there was no turning back. In true Piper James fashion, she decided two chapters into that book that she would never eat meat again, and 15 years later, she still hasn’t. So, to say that it's ironic to have that same girl baring her fangs at my neck, sitting a few feet away from me, ready to tear into my flesh and drink my blood, would be the understatement of the year.
“Piper?” I call out again, a little bit louder this time. I’m frozen on the couch waiting, listening for the familiar sound of her boots on the hard floor, but that sound never comes. I turn to look at the front door, expecting to find it unlocked, maybe even ajar if she had mustered the strength to run, ensuring my safety, but it’s closed. The lock on the doorknob and the deadbolt are engaged. She’s still here, my mind whispers, and my body shivers with goosebumps at the thought that this deranged version of Piper is lying in wait somewhere in my apartment, an ambush predator, just waiting for me to stumble upon her so that she can go in for the kill.
I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting here, I think I maybe dozed off for a minute or two before I startled awake again, and now I really need to piss. This hangover headache is kicking my ass, and I smell like vomit. So, overall I’m doing great. I comb my sweat-drenched hair back with my fingers.
“Piper?” I call out one last time before I stand up. I take a few slow steps away from the sofa, then pause. Listening for what? I have no idea, she disappeared from a few feet away without a sound, I highly doubt I would hear her a second before she wanted me to. That’s a terrifying fucking thought. Taking a deep breath, I force my legs to move. I flick the switch on the wall, and the hallway lights up, bright and open and empty. I move from room to room slowly, turning on each light before stepping through the door, because you know, scary shit only exists in the dark, right? Rolling my eyes at my own idiocy, I open the last door, the one to Piper’s old room. I use it as an office now, something I would very much like to continue doing if I don’t die today. I shove the door open, flick the switch on the wall, and let out a heavy breath when I see that the room is empty. Ok, what the hell is going on? I should be relieved, and I am, but I’m also confused. Really fucking confused. I backtrack through the apartment, opening every closet, pulling back the shower curtain. I even look under my damn bed before I go back to the living room and check the lock on the door.
Both locks are engaged, the handle and the deadbolt. My hands are shaking as I comb them through my hair again, leaning against the door, eyes gazing across the living room. I stare at the chair Piper was sitting in with a murderous look in her eyes, because I’m entirely sure she was here, sitting right there, Right? I rewind, trying to piece together the entire night, to create a seamless timeline, but I can’t, there are holes. Black spots, from drinking, I tell myself, remembering the party Piper and I went to. I tick off the beers and shots I remember in my mind. I did drink a lot, but if Piper didn’t bring me home, if she wasn’t here, how did I get home, and why can I still feel the sweat on my skin and hear the ice in her tone?
Buzz
Buzz
Buzz
My phone vibrates against the polished coffee table. I push myself away from the door and cross the room, stopping cold when I see Piper’s face on the lit-up screen. Just be cool, I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation for all of this.
“Where are you right now?” I practically shout into the phone. So much for being cool.
“Kit? Is everything ok?” Piper asks. Her voice is calm, and her tone is the usual mix of warmth and skepticism.
“Yeah, everything is great. Where are you?” I repeat my unanswered question less angrily this time.
“It’s four o’clock in the morning, I’m at home… I’ve called you like five times. I wanted to make sure you got home alright.” Piper sighs loudly into the phone, and I know there’s more she wants to say, something she’s struggling with, so I wait. After a beat, she takes another deep breath.