Stakes & Stilettos - Michelle Rowen [64]
Stacy walked toward us. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”
“Divine. Let’s cut the small talk, though.”
She studied me for a moment. “You’re ready to apologize?”
“Yes.”
She smiled. “Then make it a good one.”
I took a deep breath and swallowed my ill feelings. Okay. She deserved this. She did.
“Upon reflection of certain days at high school,” I began, “I do remember why you might not like me so much.”
“Not like you?” she said. “That’s a bit of an understatement, isn’t it?”
I forced a smile and glanced over at George. He’d lit up another cigarette. “Right. Well, I know that I treated you with disrespect. Everyone can’t be flowers and sunshine every day of their lives. There are things like PMS and/or fights with boyfriends, etcetera, that might contribute to someone acting uncharacteristically unpleasant.”
“Oh, that was uncharacteristic?”
“It was ten years ago.”
“So?”
A wind picked up and blew some of the snow that had gathered on the tree branches at me. It felt cold and wet against my face and I wiped it away. “You unfortunately saw a bad side of me for a couple of minutes one day. I had lots of friends. They would all vouch that I was a really nice person. But I know I was mean to you, and then I went out with what’s-his-name to the prom—”
“Jonathan,” she snapped. “His name was Jonathan.”
“Right, Jonathan. High school is bad enough without any extra trauma. I know that. I am so, so sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
She snorted.
I raised my eyebrows. “What?”
“That was your apology?”
“It was.”
She slapped me, leaving behind a painful sting on the left side of my face. I looked at her, too stunned to be angry.
George took a step closer. “Slap Sarah again, you bitch, and I’m going to blow smoke in your face.”
She waved a hand in George’s direction and he froze in place and his eyes shut. His cigarette fell to the ground.
I blinked. “What did you do?”
Stacy glared at me. “Your moral support was getting in the way. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine, but this is a conversation between the two of us, Sarah, and I want it to stay that way.”
I curled my hands into fists at my sides, willing myself to stay calm. My left cheek burned from the slap. “I apologized to you. What do you want from me now? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
She shook her head and took a moment to brush the blowing snow off her red coat. “Isn’t it funny how everyone has a completely different view of themselves? How everyone is the hero of their own story and other people are the villains?”
“I’m not a villain.”
“You’re a vampire.”
“Vampires are not villains.” God, how many times did I have to explain this to people? “We’re just like humans only we have a few more issues to deal with. It’s the choices we make that make us good or bad. I’d think that somebody who calls herself a witch would understand that. I’m not seeing any green skin, warts, and broomsticks around.”
“No, no broomsticks,” she said evenly. “But I did bring one of these along.”
She pulled a long, sharp wooden stake from the inside of her coat.
My mouth went dry and my heart began to pound hard against my rib cage. Just the sight of the stake was enough to give me an immediate anxiety attack. The last time I’d seen one had been when it was yanked out of my chest.
“It’s funny how just the memory of a major trauma can bring it back as if it only just happened,” Stacy said, and her smile was back. It made me think that somehow she knew about what had happened to me. My attention didn’t leave the piece of sharpened wood for a moment. “Memories are triggered by many things. A smell, a taste. Our senses are amazing for total recall. It’s as if we’re right back when the bad thing happened. We can live it again and again and again.” She moved the stake back and forth between her hands.
“Just put that away,” I said shakily.
“Why? Do I seem threatening? I’m just holding it. I’m not trying to do anything with it, am I?”
I had dealt with my stake issues. I had. It was an unpleasant memory, as she’d just said,