Teeth_ Vampire Tales - Ellen Datlow [14]
Saul wondered if they were some crazy anti-Semitic pair. Just his luck to find the only New Yorkers on vacation who hated Jews. He tried to cover the tattoo with his fingers, but the skin beneath began to ache again until he removed his hand. He didn’t understand what the hell was happening.
Dutch barely slowed down to pull into the gas station. She came to a screeching halt in front of a pump. A pregnant woman filling her gas tank nearby gave them a sour look as she covered her stomach with one arm, as if that might keep her safe from injury. “Looks like we need some gas.”
“I need a refill.” Marley’s usual giggle was brief and pained.
Dutch turned to Saul. “You fill the tank. We’ll be inside. If you run, we’ll kill her.”
Saul nodded. The flatness in Dutch’s voice was more chilling than the threat. No, not a threat, but a promise of murder.
“C’mon, bro,” she said, and unlocked the doors.
Saul’s legs felt hollow as he stepped out of the car. He moved slowly. Marley flipped him the finger under one eye before following after his sister. Saul noticed that neither of them wore shoes, and their bare feet were dark with grime.
Saul hissed at the pregnant woman to catch her attention. She ignored him. He stomped his foot, splashing a puddle. Nothing. Then he noticed the white cord around her neck. Damn iPods. Would serve her right if he ran.
But he wouldn’t be so easy to kill. He’d discovered something about himself at Cotre Ranch. Through all the hiking with heavy backpacks, the hand-over-hand rope bridge over mud puddles, the old brick wall they had to climb, he might have stumbled, but Phelps’s goons had made sure he kept going. They would yell at him, insult him, and shove him forward. And he was tougher for it.
The liquid crystal display on the pump came to life. He lifted the nozzle. He needed a distraction. On the island beside the pump, a metal drum served as a trash can. The crumpled fast-food bags, empty soda cans, and discarded oil bottles would ignite fast with a little gasoline. He pulled the nozzle’s trigger and splashed the top of the trash.
The pregnant woman finished and drove off. Saul turned to see if the siblings could see him through the gas station’s windows and found himself face-to-face with Dutch. He jumped back. She was sucking on her index finger. The look of excitement on her flushed face dropped when she smelled the gasoline.
She popped the finger from her lips and then kicked at the drum. The trash spilled out all around the island. Saul silently cursed.
“Inside,” she told him, and pushed him toward the gas station door.
Marley stood at the back by the refrigerated shelves, juggling cartons of milk. His lips looked ruddy, as if he’d been kissing someone hard. He’d be gorgeous if not for the smirk. It was the sort of smirk that made you want to punch him before kissing him.
The register drawer was open and empty. Maybe they’re just thieves, Saul thought. And they’re getting off on scaring me. Then he thought he glimpsed a foot sticking out from behind the counter, and he felt the scream building within him. A scream at their madness, a scream of shock and fear. But he knew if he let the scream loose, he’d be rooted to the spot and never escape. So he swallowed the scream, as he had the aches and pains he’d earned at the ranch.
Marley tossed the smallest carton to Saul. Heavy cream.
“The Masai drink blood first and then milk.” Marley let one carton drop. It smacked the floor, and milk spilled all over the stained linoleum. “Oops, don’t cry.” He smiled and Saul shivered, frightened and, embarrassed to realize, aroused. There was something powerful about their Cheshire cat grins.
Saul glanced around him. He stood in the midst of an aisle with chips and snack foods along one side, soda on the other. Six-packs of root beer caught his attention.
Their smiles had some sort of hold over him. He needed to break that hold, break their smiles, and glass bottles were promising. He’d always thought those scenes in the movies when a