《Death By Misadventure》


 chapter one

    It was well into spring, and James couldn¡¯t help but enjoy the weather, cool but sunny, fair but breezy. It was almost like a second fall, only everything was coming to life again instead of letting go and falling away for the winter. The promise of warmer days and sunshine drew all the plants and animals, so abundant in these lush woods, out into the world again. James started hearing more night sounds as he lay awake, unwilling to sleep. Even still, relaxing as those night sounds may be from the outside, he knew they were a product of chaos no person could understand. In their world, it is kill or be killed. His world was hardly different.


    James methodically placed various fresh fruits and vegetables into their respective bins, sorting from an assortment of crates and boxes the small, motherly woman he worked for had dragged out of storage. Her name was Ms. Betancourt, and she had refused assistance, and even once James was thoroughly buried in fruits, she had still tried to make conversation with her only employee. She barely even remembered hiring him¡ªit was like he had simply materialized one day, although she was certain she remembered his first day in the shop. She¡¯d had to show him around, teach him how to use the register, explain to him that he couldn¡¯t scowl at the customers¡ªbut that had been months ago. She didn¡¯t give it much thought outside of vague musings. He never caused any trouble.


    ¡°Would you mind wiping down the shop windows before you go?¡± Ms. Betancourt asked him. It was nearing the end of the day and he had barely spoken a word, but had gotten all his work done with a degree of accuracy Ms. Betancourt couldn¡¯t help but be impressed by. Today had been a slow day, with only one or two customers coming into the shop, but rather than loll about, James had taken the opportunity to tidy up the shop. Ms. Betan court didn¡¯t want to give him more work than he could handle, but no matter what she threw at him he seemed to tackle with ease once he had it figured out. Sure, the first time around he might be a little unsure of himself, but whatever he learned he had down pat within days. She appreciated him more than she cared to let on.


    ¡°Not at all,¡± James replied in his soft, demure voice. ¡°I¡¯ll get right on it.¡±


    The admiration was not one sided, although James respected his employer in a very different way.


    He went into the back to retrieve the window cleaner and a rag. The tasks Ms. Betancourt gave him were always the meditative, decidedly unsocial ones, which gave him plenty of time to mull over his private thoughts. Ms. Betancourt often wondered if perhaps he was some manner of neurodiverse.


    She wasn¡¯t as far off as she could have been, but she certainly didn¡¯t hit it on the nose.


    Spring passed them by, and the first day of summer heralded a season James had been dreading since spring break. Ms. Betancourt had a daughter, about James¡¯ age, who would be visiting home from college for the duration of the summer months. Her spring visit hadn¡¯t exactly gone over well, which did not give James much hope for the future, particularly because she worked in the shop for a little extra cash, meaning they would be forced to spend hours together each day, which James was less than thrilled about. She didn¡¯t treat him badly, he just didn¡¯t like her. She made him uncomfortable in ways he couldn¡¯t really explain.


    At first they were equally unsure of each other, both wary of a new, unfamiliar face, but eventually Rox¨¢n took a strange, unprecedented liking to James. Something about him made her decide he was either alright or worth messing with for entertainment. After she decided she didn¡¯t want him gone, James felt pestered by her, even when she wasn¡¯t speaking to him. She had a tendency to just watch him silently from the counter while he mopped the floors, or stocked shelves, or wiped down the windows. It didn¡¯t help that she was as quiet as he was, either. He would forget she was there and get startled by her making a sudden noise, or moving, or if he turned around and saw her watching him again.


    Eventually James snapped. ¡°Why are you so weird?¡± he asked, half shouting at her from across the shop. That was the loudest Rox¨¢n had ever heard him speak, and possibly the longest sentence she¡¯d heard him string together. In any case, she was taken aback by the sudden outburst.


    She stared at him more intently still. She knew exactly what she was doing. ¡°Hm? What do you mean?¡±


    James was embarrassed now. It struck him that maybe she wasn¡¯t all right in the head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. You just stand there and stare at me constantly,¡± he said, his voice stripped of any confidence, or volume for that matter. ¡°That¡¯s weird. Makes me feel¡­ weird.¡± He had said ¡®weird¡¯ too many times. He wanted to hide.


    Rox¨¢n shuffled out from behind the counter, and James actually looked at her properly for the first time. She was shorter than he was, but her slight platform shoes made them exactly the same height. She gave off the energy of black coffee, which was probably because she often drank it and was usually buzzed from the caffeine, but James did not know this.


    ¡°Maybe you make me feel weird,¡± she said, ¡°I don¡¯t know you. You¡¯re just some weird little guy working in my mom¡¯s shop.¡±


    James turned bright red. ¡°I¡¯m not little.¡±


    Rox¨¢n raised one eyebrow. ¡°Barely. And that¡¯s not an achievement anyway.¡±


    Ms. Betancourt emerged from the back room and did a double take. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, trying not to laugh, ¡°but from in there, you two sound like siblings. And I came out here and you look like twins.¡±


    James hated that she was right. They had the same heart shaped faces, the same wide, dark eyes rimmed with thick, long lashes. The same rich, wavy hair that never did quite what it was told. The main difference was that James was scrawny and almost looked frail, while the Betancourts were of a stronger constitution, although both Rox¨¢n and her mother were on the smaller side. Neither broke five foot five inches, except Rox¨¢n when she was wearing her platforms. James was, to his mind, a respectable five foot six.


    Ms. Betancourt regained her composure. ¡°Anyway, I came out here to tell you that I¡¯m closing the shop early for the day. I have errands to run. But I want you two to stay behind and organize the storeroom together. You, James, can go home either when you finish, when your work day ends, or when I get back. I trust your judgment.¡±


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    James resented every moment he and Rox¨¢n had to spend in the storeroom together. He was hungry, tired, and had little to no tolerance for Rox¨¢n¡¯s antics. He swore she took the opportunity to screw with his head as much as possible, which struck him as a terrible idea, but she had no way of knowing that. By the time they were finished, James felt just about ready to commit a murder.


    ¡°I¡¯m going,¡± he muttered at Rox¨¢n as soon as he clocked out. ¡°Try not to burn down the shop.¡±


    Rox¨¢n mistook what he had meant to be a biting remark for a playful jest, and responded in kind.


    ¡°Try not to burn in the sun,¡± she scoffed. ¡°Freak.¡±


    This made James nervous. She couldn¡¯t know, could she? There was no way. Unless she was a vampire herself, there was no way she could have possibly figured out that he was one, too, and he would have known if she was. Vampires carry a certain scent about them, like rotting flowers, undetectable to humans, but sickening to other vampires. He would have known if she was like him. He wrote her words off as stupid and ignorant and left the shop. It was also the first time he¡¯d had any connection to vampires made to him based on appearance alone, he thought. Typically people didn¡¯t realize anything was off about him until it was far too late, if they realized at all. He was certain she didn¡¯t know¡ªhow could she, especially given her comment about the sun, which is a myth¡ªbut all the same, it rubbed him the wrong way. Humans who felt comfortable enough with the topic of vampires to crack jokes were no better than the vampires themselves.


    He had ignored her the rest of the time she spent in Windrow, and didn¡¯t quite feel comfortable again until she went back to college. Now he was going to have to deal with her again, but tenfold this time, as instead of spending a week in town, she would be staying for three months. He wasn¡¯t convinced he would survive, much less that she would, if their dynamic turned out to be anything like it was over spring. He forced himself to make an internal promise that he wouldn¡¯t harm her. He needed this job; anything that could jeopardize it was out of the question. Murdering his employer¡¯s daughter seemed to fit into that category.


    It didn¡¯t turn out as badly as he had expected. Rox¨¢n seemed to have learned her lesson, and left him alone this time around. They were forced to interact while they worked, but she no longer tried to make idle conversation, and James caught her staring much less. She seemed to have decided that they were better off with a cordial, business-only relationship than with allowing the tension to continue building the way it had been.


    James gained a sliver of respect for her because of this. He might not have been able to stand her personally, but he appreciated her efforts to keep the peace. He even felt a little bit bad¡ªin hindsight, her interest was probably more akin to innocent curiosity than the prying he had interpreted it as.


    Less pleased with the arrangement was Ms. Betancourt. She had been under the impression that they got on rather well over spring break, and was put off by their cold and callous indifference. They didn¡¯t fight or bicker the way they had in the spring, but they hardly looked at each other either. The only reason she never said anything was because they got all their work done just fine; she couldn¡¯t force them to like each other, after all. She figured it was better to live and let live. All the same, she would rather they got along better.


    James was sweeping oats off the floor in the back room one weekend when he heard the shop door open. It was just him and Ms. Betancourt working that day, and he hadn¡¯t heard from his employer in some time, so he assumed that she was upstairs and he would have to subject himself to customer service¡ªso he was quite shocked when the door to the back room was thrust open and Rox¨¢n sidled past him. He shifted from shocked to irritated as a young man he¡¯d never seen before followed after her, looking around with an air of uncertainty and wonder that told James he¡¯d never been in this part of the shop before.


    ¡°What are either of you doing here?¡± James asked Rox¨¢n, his tone snide. He leaned his broom against a stack of crates and crossed his arms. Rox¨¢n was digging in her mother¡¯s personal refrigerator, which she often used to store her own food that wasn¡¯t intended to be sold. ¡°You¡¯re not working today. You were supposed to be hanging out with a friend.¡± He shot a sour glance at the young man standing awkwardly by Rox¨¢n.


    Rox¨¢n didn¡¯t even bother to look at James, still rummaging through various ancient jars looking for something James was sure should not have been so difficult to find.


    ¡°That¡¯s Tim,¡± she said, ¡°and we are hanging out. I put our lunch for today in here but I literally can¡¯t find it.¡±


    ¡°Why couldn¡¯t you have put it in the fridge in your own home?¡± asked James. He bit the inside of his cheek and debated moving out into the shop so he wouldn¡¯t have to deal with her.


    Rox¨¢n finally shut the fridge door, still empty handed, and looked James in his eyes.


    ¡°Broken,¡± was all she said, before walking out of the room and out into the shop. Momentarily, James heard her footsteps thumping up the stairs, and very faintly her voice calling, ¡°MAM¨¢!¡±


    James raised an eyebrow at Tim, who stared back in a way that made James feel he was afraid to be left in a room alone with him, which James found amusing. He heard more muffled speech from upstairs, followed by two sets of thumping footsteps, and Ms. Betancourt entered the storeroom followed closely by her daughter. She opened the fridge door, took a brown paper bag out from one of the door shelves, and handed it to Rox¨¢n with an I-told-you-so expression. James heard Rox¨¢n mumble that she could swear she¡¯d looked there, and she led Tim out of the shop in a hurry.


    Ms. Betancourt pursed her lips. ¡°She¡¯s never exactly acted her age,¡± she muttered, ¡°but it really stands out now that she¡¯s moved away.¡±


    James shrugged and picked the broom back up off the crates.


    The next few weeks were scattered with similar encounters between James, Rox¨¢n, and whichever childhood friends she was visiting at any given moment. It struck James that it was a relatively small rotation, which hardly surprised him initially, but he wondered if maybe that was unfair of him. She got under his skin, she was weird, but she was never outright unpleasant or cruel, and she always seemed to have a good time with the friends she did have. None of this stopped him from resenting her and her friends hanging around the shop when they had nothing better to do, which confused him endlessly. As much as he loved the quiet little grocery store full of fresh fruits and stale, old-fashioned sweets, it was just that¡ªa quiet little store. He couldn¡¯t imagine why young adults like Rox¨¢n and her friends would choose to spend their summer days hanging around what James could only assume was the most boring place in town, and he was sure they weren¡¯t out partying at night, because there were times when James clocked out long before Rox¨¢n or her friends showed any signs of leaving. He figured Ms. Betancourt would take them home, but she would frequently stay well into the night on days when she didn¡¯t leave at close.


    Out of all Rox¨¢n¡¯s friends, only one really stuck out in James¡¯ memory. Of course, there was Tim, but he had made about the same impression as a lump of clay, and although James saw him quite often, he failed to leave a mark as substantial as that of a tall young man James saw only once, and briefly. Rox¨¢n had run into the shop, leaving her friend to wait for her outside, and James couldn¡¯t help but steal a few quick glances. He was in the habit of sizing up just about everyone he met, but this boy in particular intrigued him. Unlike Rox¨¢n¡¯s other friends, namely Tim, who seemed decidedly ordinary people, this guy looked like he and Rox¨¢n would be friends. He wasn¡¯t quite as far down the spectrum as she was, but he had certain alternative sensibilities that made him stand out in the generally cohesive, conservative small town of Windrow. As quickly as he came, he was gone, and James didn¡¯t see him again for some time.

 chapter two

    It was a chilly, clear evening. Not winter chilly, with air so cold it bites the skin, but a nice sort of cold that granted some respite from the blazing hot summer. It had rained almost constantly the past few days, which James took as a harbinger of an incoming cold front; it seemed his suspicions were correct.


    There are few benefits gained from immortality, and the most notable of these are almost invariably offset by the less attractive aspects of eternal life. It takes a special kind of person to appreciate things like the ability to read weather patterns with uncanny accuracy when the rest of your time is spent engulfed in anxiety and the knowledge that you will outlive anyone you¡¯re unfortunate enough to care for, and the chances are that if you¡¯re that good at meteorology, you already have (unless, of course, you happen to be a meteorologist¡ªalthough that might make you immune to this particular dilemma).


    James was one such person. Not a meteorologist, thankfully, but someone who took pride in his accuracy in the same field, even in his state of constant fear. It must have been decades since he¡¯d been caught out and about in the wrong outfit for the weather, something he considered an accomplishment, but that he never seemed to get any sort of recognition for.


    The only time he ever felt out of place was in his own home. It was barren, isolated¡ªand while it certainly matched his lifestyle, it didn¡¯t feel like home. Nothing did.


    Not only that, but he couldn¡¯t actually afford to live there anymore. It was an old craftsman-style cottage that he was renting out, but the owner kept raising the rent in hopes that James would cancel his lease, as they openly admitted that they wanted to renovate it and use it as a bed-and-breakfast, and James living there full time was a significant obstacle to that. James had no real emotional connection to the place, but at the same time he didn¡¯t want to give the owner the satisfaction of running him out.


    Besides, he had nowhere else to go. All he could do was argue with the owner on the phone and beg them not to keep driving his rent up, since his wage from the bodega really wasn¡¯t cutting it any more. He was already dipping into his savings to pay the landlord.


    He started the long walk into town. The location wasn¡¯t even that convenient for him¡ªit was easily an hour to walk to work every day, and while summer was usually fine, making that trek in the winter was grueling. He was even glad for the cold front today, since making the walk was almost as terrible in July heat as it was in December flurries. If the landlord wouldn¡¯t keep trying to push him out, maybe he could afford a bike or a car¡­


    The only reason he had picked the place was the isolation. It was a lot easier to move about undetected when he didn¡¯t have to worry about being seen coming and going, and as someone who had to kill to survive, that was worth it initially. But his intention was to keep a low profile, and he couldn¡¯t do that if he had to keep taking more hours and calling up landlords.


    Fuck it, he thought to himself. It¡¯s time to make other arrangements.


    James reached the store about twenty minutes earlier than he meant to, which meant he was there long before Ms. Betancourt would arrive to open up. Typically he wouldn¡¯t mind, but the wind was starting to pick up, and it nipped at his already cold skin. Even for a cold front the weather was becoming almost impossibly wintry for early July, which James didn¡¯t like, even though he far preferred the cold to blistering heat.


    Rather than move out of the cold, James avoided his discomfort by falling deep into thought about where to go from here. He didn¡¯t want to move into town if he could help it; it would be more money for less, although it might have some chance of falling into his budget if it was ¡®less¡¯ enough, and there was a much higher chance of suspicion if he was caught going in and out at night.


    He snapped back to reality when a car door slammed in front of him. The Betancourts had arrived; finally he could get out of the cold.


    ¡°How long have you been standing out here?¡± Ms. Betancourt asked. ¡°It¡¯s frigid out here.¡±


    James checked his pocket watch. ¡°Fifteen or so,¡± he mumbled. Rox¨¢n was staring at him with her wide-eyed stupor, as usual.


    Lunatic.


    Ms. Betancourt shooed him and her daughter into the shop. The air inside was not much warmer, but it was at least out of the wind.


    ¡°Go turn on the heating,¡± Ms. Betancourt ordered, teeth chattering. Rox¨¢n gave a curt little nod and darted off. With her daughter gone, Ms. Betancourt directed her attention back towards James.


    ¡°Is everything alright?¡±


    James looked back at her, meeting her gaze steadily. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± he said.


    The woman raised an eyebrow at him and pursed her lips just enough to look disappointed. ¡°Is that right?¡± she drawled. ¡°There¡¯s no shame in being stressed, James. There¡¯s no use lying about it; I can see it in your eyes.¡±


    James flushed, but instead of being angry like he expected, he was just ashamed. Something compelled him to tell the truth.


    ¡°My landlord is playing games with me,¡± he told her. ¡°Wants me to bugger off. Keeps raising the rent¡­ I just can¡¯t afford it any more. I need to find somewhere else to stay.¡±


    Ms. Betancourt furrowed her brow. James could picture the gears turning in her head as she thought, deeply considering his words. His discomfort only increased as the temperature rose.


    Finally she spoke again. ¡°There¡¯s a flat above the shop, as you know,¡± said Ms. Betancourt, taking her time and measuring out her words carefully, ¡°we¡¯re just using it for extra storage right now, but I don¡¯t see why you couldn¡¯t live there full time if you wanted to.¡± She paused, looking up at James intently. ¡°There would be conditions, of course. You would have to keep it clean, and whatever the extra cost of keeping electric running full time would come out of your paycheck. But I would still cover water, and you¡¯re always welcome to join Rox¨¢n and I for dinner if you need food.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say.¡±


    James just stared back at her for a moment, thinking it over. It¡¯s not ideal¡­ or is it? Chances are I wouldn¡¯t even really be on record as a tenant, if my bills are just coming out of my pay. Clearly she trusts me, so if anyone did come knocking, it certainly seems like she¡¯d defend my character. I work here, so coming and going throughout the night isn¡¯t entirely unreasonable. The only downside I can think of is that I¡¯ll have to hide weapons up there in a flat this woman and her daughter are intimately familiar with, but if I move in my own furniture it doesn¡¯t seem likely that anyone would go through my personal belongings.


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    Ms. Betancourt broke the silence, saying, ¡°Take as long as you need to consider, the offer is always open.¡±


    James wanted so badly to just say yes right away, but he contained his eagerness. He¡¯d ruminate over the course of the day, but if no glaring issues popped out at him he saw no reason to decline. The problem was solved almost as quickly as it arose.


    By the end of business, the only problem was still terminating his lease. James approached Ms. Betancourt, jittering with nerves, and accepted the offer. She told him he could move in whenever he wanted, just to let her know first, and to tell her if he needed any help getting settled.


    And that was it. James mentally prepared himself to blow the last of his savings on the cancellation fee on his lease as he walked home, an inexplicable spring in his step. No more grueling long walks. He only had to go out and about when he hunted, which would be less frequently now that he didn¡¯t have to use as much energy daily. It almost seemed too good to be true.


    The phone call with his landlord almost made James laugh. The man was struggling desperately to disguise his glee that James was canceling on him, trying so hard to sound frustrated or disappointed in some way, and in his elation at finally being free from the man¡¯s control James was numb to the draining of his bank account on the termination. It didn¡¯t matter any more; he was out. He could finally start saving again and stop worrying.


    The stress did set in the next morning, however, as he woke up and realized he now had limited time to move out and no access to a vehicle large enough to pack any sort of furniture into. I may as well pack up what I can, he thought. I¡¯ll ask Ms. Betancourt when I clock in. She¡¯ll think of something.


    And think of something she did.


    ¡°Rox¨¢n!¡± called Ms. Betancourt after a brief moment of consideration. The girl popped her head out of the storage room, and Ms. Betancourt beckoned her over. ¡°Does your friend Artemiy still have that pickup truck?¡±


    Rox¨¢n scratched a spot on her chin. ¡°I think so,¡± she said. ¡°Want me to call him? What do you need it for?¡±


    ¡°James needs assistance moving in,¡± said Ms. Betancourt. She seemed tense, like she didn¡¯t know how Rox¨¢n would react.


    The younger girl was certainly taken aback. Her face was cast with uncertainty, and for once James felt bad for her; he wished her mother had said something sooner, if only because breaking the news to her once it was already decided was unnecessarily awkward.


    ¡°Mam¨¢,¡± she said, confusion in her eyes, ¡°why didn¡¯t you say anything? I was supposed to move in there once I was done with school.¡±


    James flushed. It was fully too late to turn back now, and he felt awful. He honestly hated caring about this girl¡¯s feelings more than hurting them, but as annoyed as he was he couldn¡¯t help but feel like he was intruding on family affairs.


    James startled, as the embarrassed Ms. Betancourt apparently read his mind.


    ¡°James has been working here for years now, he may as well be family. If he still lives here when you¡¯re done with college you¡¯re perfectly welcome to just move back home with me until you decide you want to be fully independent.¡±


    Rox¨¢n furrowed her brow and sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll call Artemiy,¡± she said, dejected. ¡°If he still has it he can probably swing by and pick you up, James.¡±


    He watched as she swiveled around on her heel and slouched off into the back of the shop, and felt guilt creep in, which he tried to fend off. It wasn¡¯t his fault Ms. Betancourt hadn¡¯t been transparent with her daughter, after all. He couldn¡¯t help it if he needed somewhere to live, and who knew? Maybe he wouldn¡¯t even be around any more by the time she was done with school. He wanted to stick around as long as he could, since constant travel was incredibly draining on the mind and body, but if problems arose he had to be ready to run at a moment¡¯s notice.


    Rox¨¢n emerged some time later, looking a little more like her usual self. ¡°He¡¯ll be right over, James, to pick you up. He¡¯s happy to lend a hand.¡±


    James shifted his weight. ¡°What¡¯s his name again?¡± he asked, uncertain about this strange, unknown friend of Rox¨¢n¡¯s who he presumably had never met.


    ¡°Artemiy,¡± Rox¨¢n repeated. ¡°He¡¯s a chill guy, quiet. You¡¯ll get along.¡±


    The work day, already unusually slow, felt even slower because of the looming anxiety around getting into a car with a stranger, whose only connection to James was through someone James wasn¡¯t exactly fond of. He trusted Ms. Betancourt¡¯s judgment, but had adopted some skepticism about her character that hadn¡¯t been present before due to the whole flat debacle.


    Not that he was any paradigm of morality. What am I worried about, he mused, it¡¯s this Artemiy guy that should be nervous to drive off into the woods with someone like me, not the other way around.


    He heard the dull thud of a car door out front and perked up. That must be him.


    Rox¨¢n immediately darted out the front door to greet the stranger, and when he came through the shop door, James immediately recognized him as the friend he had seen once, and never again afterwards. He and Rox¨¢n were already chatting like they¡¯d been together all day.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we ever met properly,¡± the tall young man said, looking James right in his dark eyes. ¡°I¡¯m Artemiy Yakovlev, a friend of Rox¨¢n¡¯s. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡±


    James took his extended hand and shook it, willing himself not to break eye contact. ¡°James Adler,¡± he responded, his voice barely breaking a murmur. Artemiy may as well have been towering over him; James knew Artemiy was tall, but standing so close made him feel miniscule.


    There was no time wasted on awkward silence. ¡°Time to head out?¡± asked Artemiy. He raised his eyebrows and gestured towards the door with his thumb.


    ¡°Sure,¡± said James, and Artemiy waved a brief goodbye to Rox¨¢n before leading James out to the truck. It was a deep charcoal gray, freshly cleaned by the looks of it. It was clear that Artemiy put a lot of care into maintaining the vehicle.


    ¡°Not sure if it¡¯ll be big enough to be efficient,¡± Artemiy muttered.


    James shook his head. ¡°It absolutely is. I really don¡¯t have much at all, wouldn¡¯t be surprised if we can take everything in one trip.¡±


    Artemiy looked ahead, squinting. ¡°I guess that¡¯s not really a surprise. Not like you¡¯re moving into a McMansion.¡±


    The silence in the car ride was painful. It seems like he wants to talk, James thought, but I just don¡¯t know what to say. Quite frankly, he freaks me out.


    When they did finally reach the house, Artemiy whistled.


    ¡°Not a bad place,¡± he said, his expression pulled into what James could only describe as an upside-down smile. ¡°A shame you have to leave.¡±


    ¡°I guess so,¡± said James. ¡°Too much space, and too far from work, though. And I can¡¯t drive.¡±


    ¡°Mm,¡± Artemiy vocalized. ¡°Well, time to get to work.¡±


    James struggled with the lock before pushing the door open to reveal an almost empty room with an old, busted laptop on the floor next to a couple medium-sized boxes containing all James¡¯ non-furniture possessions. All were taped shut, and for good reason¡ªthe majority contained an assortment of items James desperately wanted to protect from prying eyes, not the least of which being a collection of ornate knives sharp enough to cut through flesh like paper. As a vampire, he hardly needed them, but they certainly made his life a lot easier. Being as small in stature as he was, he could use all the help he could get.

 chapter three

    Having a stranger in the place he had considered his hideout felt instinctively wrong, like he had set a trap for himself and fallen for it. Of course, there was nothing for Artemiy to find, but James worried that if any cases were to return to this house, or to him, Artemiy would be the first to sell him out¡ªthat maybe he missed something in his meticulous coverups, or that he left a witness.


    Anyone who knew him was technically a witness. Not an eyewitness, necessarily, but any and everything he said could be used against him. At what point did it stop being worth it to even try and be a part of society? James didn¡¯t want to think about that.


    ¡°Hello? Earth to Adler?¡±


    James snapped back to the present. ¡°Sorry,¡± he said. ¡°What were you saying?¡±


    ¡°All we have left to do is take apart your bed frame and pack it up,¡± said Artemiy. ¡°Then we can get out of here for good.¡±


    James sighed. ¡°Alright. Follow me.¡±


    He beckoned Artemiy to follow him and crept up the stairs. He had never realized how creaky they were; Artemiy¡¯s footfalls squeaked and squealed in a way James¡¯ never had, and it irked him. Every floorboard sounded off like the souls of the damned under Artemiy¡¯s feet, all the way down the hallway and to the door.


    James winced as the door hinges screamed; there was a reason he spent so little time here.


    ¡°There it is,¡± said James, pointing at the bed with the thin headboard pushed up against the wall. It was small, bigger than a twin but smaller than a queen, and the bedding lacked substance, consisting of two thin, threadbare blankets he¡¯d had for decades at this point.


    Artemiy frowned. ¡°No offense, dude, but this is sad,¡± he said with a nervous chuckle. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s just ¡®cause this place is too big for just one guy, but I don¡¯t know how you live like this.¡±


    James shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s all I need,¡± he said. ¡°Can¡¯t really afford any more than that. And I¡¯ve moved around a lot, so¡­¡± He stopped himself. One of the first things they tell you about vampires is that they rarely stay in one place for long, and revealing that he was intentionally mobile could easily be enough to at least raise suspicion.


    But Artemiy seemed to take no notice, or at least didn¡¯t ask any probing questions, which James appreciated. Once the bed was dismantled they struggled to get each piece, including the old spring mattress, down the stairs and into the truck. The mattress was easily the worst part, and the trek downstairs took much longer than it should have and involved an uncomfortable amount of close proximity. More than once the hairs on James¡¯ neck raised up after feeling hot breath there, and at one point he startled so much that he bumped into Artemiy and almost brought them both tumbling down the stairs.


    ¡°Can¡¯t wait to do that again,¡± said Artemiy, grimacing, ¡°except up, and in a tighter stairwell.¡±


    James drew in a deep breath and clenched his jaw. ¡°At least we get a bit of a break while I clean up the flat,¡± he said. ¡°Although it might take me a while. If it gets late enough you¡¯re free to unload everything into the storage room and I¡¯ll figure it out myself.¡±


    Artemiy looked at James in disbelief. ¡°I think you¡¯d die before you got that mattress up those stairs alone,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m helping you tidy, and I¡¯m helping you unload, and unless you really just want me gone that badly, I¡¯m helping you set up.¡±


    James said, ¡°oh,¡± and perched himself on a stool. ¡°I appreciate that.¡±


    And he did appreciate it, really, but it felt strange to him. Maybe it just wasn¡¯t in his nature to do favors even for people he liked, but a total stranger dedicating his entire day to helping him get settled into an apartment didn¡¯t quite sit right with James. It wasn¡¯t about suspicion or anything like that, Artemiy seemed perfectly trustworthy, but that was exactly it¡ªhe seemed like a genuinely good person. It shouldn¡¯t come as a shock that James and good people frequently did not mix well, given that the former was a killer by necessity and the latter are generally opposed to that sort of activity. All the same, James couldn¡¯t hate him, or even dislike him the way he disliked Rox¨¢n. Not after he¡¯d been so generous with his time.


    He and Artemiy barely spoke in the brief respite before they unloaded the truck, but the tension that had existed in the car ride to the house and back was dissipating. James realized the discomfort was probably one-sided¡ªgo figure. He made a mental note to be more normal in the future.


    ¡°Well,¡± Artemiy said, standing up with a performative groan, ¡°guess we should get back to work.¡± He dug his keys out of his pocket and gave the fob a couple rapid clicks, raising his eyebrows at James, who promptly followed suit. James sighed as he looked at the full size mattress he was going to have to wrangle up the stairs in but a few minutes time.


    Artemiy sensed his apprehension and tried to reassure him by saying, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that right now, we¡¯ll do that one last.¡±


    ¡°I should hope so,¡± James chuckled, cracking his knuckles individually with his thumb, ¡°it wouldn¡¯t¡ªwell, it really wouldn¡¯t make sense to do it first. It would be in the way while we built.¡±


    Artemiy raised an eyebrow. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    James kicked himself mentally. He was sure Artemiy already wasn¡¯t super fond of him, it wasn¡¯t like Rox¨¢n would¡¯ve had anything nice to say, he didn¡¯t have to make things worse for himself by being awkward. This guy seemed cool enough, it could be worth it to get to know him better, even if only to keep up appearances. Forging some kind of positive connection with Rox¨¢n wouldn¡¯t exactly hurt, either. Especially if he was going to be living above the shop¡ªhaving her around would be almost, if not entirely, unavoidable. The dining area, kitchenette, and sources of entertainment such as the old, boxy black television and various card games were not only owned by but frequently used by the Betancourts, and he couldn¡¯t take those amenities away from them, even if he wanted to¡ªhe already felt like an intruder in their family, no need to make that even worse for himself.


    Before he knew it, James and Artemiy had gotten all the pieces of his bed frame up the stairs and they were ready to start assembly.


    Artemiy hit the butt of his hand against his forehead. ¡°I left the tools in the truck bed. Mind running and grabbing those for me?¡± His wide-eyed gaze met James¡¯, who paused briefly.


    ¡°Sure,¡± he said, almost in a whisper, before loping off around the corner and down the stairs. James had never been more uncomfortable spending the day with a stranger than he was right now, which was saying something, as he was considerably less psyched out now than he was before. As normal as Artemiy seemed, something was off about him, much in the same way as something was off about Rox¨¢n. He figured that must be why they¡¯re such good friends.


    When he returned with the tools, Artemiy was slouched on the couch scrolling on his phone. James held up the fistful of tools he¡¯d retrieved and stared blankly, catching Artemiy¡¯s attention. He looked up from whatever he was doing, expression notably lightening, and said ¡°Thanks, man. Let¡¯s fuck this shit up.¡±


    James couldn¡¯t help but make a bewildered expression, just amused enough to smile. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t this be more akin to, uh, un-fucking it up? Since we¡¯re putting it back together and all.¡±


    Artemiy made a face like Beaker from the Muppets. ¡°I guess so,¡± he said through a chuckle. ¡°Not really what I meant, but sure.¡±


    James stood up bent over backwards as far as he could, feeling his spine crackle and pop, relieving the tension from sitting hunched over on the floor for so long. As it turns out, neither of the young men were particularly handy, and putting together a bed frame sans-instruction manual was much more difficult than either of them had anticipated. It was dusk, and Artemiy was beginning to complain of hunger. James had really hoped this ordeal would¡¯ve been done with by now, and Artemiy¡¯s grumblings reminded him that he¡¯d have to find some excuse for not eating.


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    ¡°Do you just wanna get this over with now, or would you rather break for dinner before we finish up? It¡¯s not gonna be cold tonight or anything, if you wanted to walk a couple doors down with the Betancourts in fifteen minutes or so to eat with them. They¡¯re getting some kind of soup.¡±


    James cringed internally. ¡°You can go with them if you want, I¡¯ll stay behind. I¡¯m not exactly a huge soup guy. I¡¯ll figure something else out.¡±


    Artemiy shrugged and said, ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll go with them, but I¡¯ll come back ASAP. I¡¯d like to get home before my mother worries, and we¡¯ve got our work cut out for us for sure.¡±


    James was suddenly curious. ¡°You¡¯re in university, right?¡±


    ¡°Oh, me? No,¡± Artemiy responded, ¡°I¡¯m in a technical school down in Florida. For my welding CTE. Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°No real reason.¡±


    Artemiy frowned. ¡°Okay, well, I¡¯m gonna head downstairs. See you in a bit.¡±


    James wondered if he shouldn¡¯t have asked as he watched Artemiy disappear down the stairs, and eventually his thoughts turned to feeding. It had been a few days since he¡¯d last hunted, he could do with a bit of a refill, although it most certainly wasn¡¯t happening before Artemiy made it back from his own dinner. A hunt could take days, any less would be sloppy. In a bigger city he could afford sloppy, but a little town like this? It would be far too risky. He seriously considered for the first time in a while the actual logistics of hunting only within Windrow¡ªit was impossible for him to keep going like this. Each hunt generated too much fanfare. A missing persons case in a town like this was far from unheard of, but this many within a few months was spooky, to say the least. He needed to start going far out of his way to hunt, into real cities, where he would be harder to track.


    The jingle of the bells on the shop door brought James back to reality. There was no way he was hunting tonight anyway, so he may as well enjoy the time to relax. Plopping himself down onto a rolling office chair, he swiveled around and fidgeted with his thumbs. His new housing arrangement would easily leave him with a couple hundred dollars a month to set aside, and he wondered if it would be worth it to get himself a cell phone. It didn¡¯t seem like it could particularly hurt, but he really didn¡¯t need one. Mostly he just found himself bored a lot.


    Maybe eventually. He¡¯d lived for over a century without one, he¡¯d be okay a while longer.


    The faint tinkle of bells alerted James to Artemiy returning. Well-rested, he rose from the chair and made his way downstairs.


    ¡°Ready for round two?¡± Artemiy asked with raised brows.


    The real answer was no, he wasn¡¯t, but the task had to be done, however unpleasant, so James gave a staunch ¡°Yup,¡± and the two headed back to the truck. Artemiy lifted one end of the mattress up off the truck bed and started to pull it outwards, and James took hold of the back end. Once it was fully out of the truck, they flipped it on its side and maneuvered it through the front door. The easy part was officially over.


    The stairway up to the flat was barely wide enough to let two grown men pass if they were pressed up against either wall as they did so, and the mattress James and Artemiy were trying to get up said stairway was almost as thick as James was himself, which admittedly was not extremely impressive, but fairly thick nonetheless, which made the whole ordeal and incredibly awkward process. They weren¡¯t as close together as before, since Artemiy¡¯s superior strength was needed to actually pull the mattress upwards, and James was needed more so to keep the mattress from pulling Artemiy downwards, putting them at opposite ends of the mattress, but it was an odd squeeze all the same.


    They did manage, and James was almost underwhelmed after he had built it up so much in his mind, only for it to go pretty smoothly after all. With the mattress situated on the bed frame, all that was left was for James to dress it and he¡¯d be good to go.


    ¡°Thank you so much for your help today,¡± he said, instinctually offering his hand out. ¡°I couldn¡¯t have done any of that on my own.¡±


    Artemiy took his hand and gave it one curt shake. ¡°Absolutely. Any time.¡±


    The two lingered for what felt like eternity before Artemiy turned and left with a little wave and a nod, and just like that he was gone.


    James was smoothing out his bedsheets and getting ready to lay down for the night when he heard Rox¨¢n and her mother returning from dinner. He had assumed that they would just go straight home after, since it was now pretty late, but when he heard a knock at the door to the flat it made sense that they would check up on him.


    ¡°Come in,¡± he called.


    Ms. Betancourt entered, flashing him a warm smile. ¡°Oh, lovely. I see you¡¯re all situated. Rox¨¢n and I are gonna go home for the night, rest well.¡±


    ¡°See you tomorrow, ma¡¯am,¡± James replied, sprawling out on the bed once the door clicked shut once more. He didn¡¯t really sleep, due to personal preference, so he closed his eyes and let his thoughts wander. Eventually his thoughts landed on Artemiy, and then to Rox¨¢n. He felt a vague pang of regret for being so cold with her all this time, and wondered if he should try and befriend her after all. He didn¡¯t really mind Tim so much, either. They¡¯d all just be here for the summer, anyway, it couldn¡¯t hurt to spend a little time with them, just to keep from being so bored¡­


    James bolted upright. Beams of daylight streamed through the yellowing blinds, his blankets were all kicked to the foot of the bed, and he had a miserable crick in his neck that sent a jolt of searing pain throughout his body as he sat up. At some point he had actually fallen asleep, when exactly he had no clue, and he felt like his brain had turned to mist. Maybe he would¡¯ve slept well into the day, if he hadn¡¯t been startled awake by a particularly foul dream. He swore under his breath and rubbed his eyes; hopefully a shower would help him feel better. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the pain in his neck. Mulling over the fragments of the dream he could recollect, he stripped bare and stepped into the shower, turning the knob all the way to the hottest end. The water hit his skin icy cold, and he stood shivering for a few minutes until the water gradually warmed, letting a sigh escape through clenched teeth once the water was hot enough. The room quickly filled with steam, the temperature evening out to a smothering warmth as James ran his hands through his hair. He let the scorching liquid patter over his face, his stiff neck quickly soothed by the warmth and steam. He stood there for some time, basking in the blistering heat, before abruptly turning the water off and stepping out into the steamy bathroom, helping himself to a soft towel from the linen closet. When he emerged, skin flushed deeply, towel thrown over his still-wet hair, the rest of the flat felt freezing cold by comparison. He hung the towel on a bedpost and pulled a sweatshirt over his head, shaking his hair out afterwards.


    That¡¯s much better, he thought, massaging his neck. Ms. Betancourt would arrive soon, and if odds were to be believed, Rox¨¢n would be with her. He trotted down the stairs to prepare for opening. His dream from the previous night had thrown him off his groove for sure, and he could only hope and pray the rest of the world wouldn¡¯t test him.


    Unfortunately, James spent the rest of the day irritable. He knew it was because he was hungry, but he just didn¡¯t have the time to put in the effort.


    Then, a thought struck him. He sought out Ms. Betancourt in the shop and got her attention.


    ¡°Is it possible I could get tomorrow off?¡± He asked, crossing imaginary fingers.


    Ms. Betancourt looked surprised. ¡°Of course,¡± she replied, ¡°you¡¯ve hardly had a break since you started here. And I¡¯m sure you¡¯re exhausted from moving in.¡±


    ¡°Thank you so much,¡± said James. ¡°Really, thank you.¡±


    He strode off back to his station at the register to wait for business. With tomorrow off, he could easily slip out that evening after work and catch a bus into the city. There he¡¯d have a much wider range of prey options, he¡¯d be much harder to trace, and all with the added bonus of not interfering with the lives of the people in close proximity to him.


    The door bells jingled, and James locked eyes with a familiar green gaze.


    ¡°Hey there,¡± said Artemiy, giving James a little wave as he approached. ¡°I came in to grab lunch for myself and my parents.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± said James. Did he come in here as a customer often? He¡¯d scarcely seen hide or hair of him since yesterday, so James was most certainly not expecting him to show up unannounced. ¡°Anything I can get for you?¡±


    Artemiy pursed his lips. ¡°I was thinking ham and cheese sandwiches,¡± he said, slow and deliberate. ¡°Mustard, no mayo. On all three. One with lettuce and tomato. Please.¡±


    James prepared the sandwiches on the deli counter, more than a little thrown off. ¡°There you go,¡± he said, handing over the sandwiches parceled neatly together. ¡°Your total comes to¡­ sixteen dollars and eighty-seven cents.¡±


    Artemiy took out a card and held it up to the card reader.


    ¡°You¡¯re good to go. Enjoy,¡± said James.


    ¡°Thanks. See you around.¡±


    James wiped down the counter as Ms. Betancourt came around to the register.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know that he¡¯s actually bought anything from our store since he was in his freshman year of highschool,¡± she mused. ¡°Certainly not a frequent customer. Although for a while he was here almost as often as Rox¨¢n was.¡±


    James¡¯ interest was piqued. ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±


    Ms. Betancourt got a distant look in her eyes. ¡°Well, the two of them have been pretty close for a while now. Rox¨¢n is in a much better place now, but for a while, Artemiy and Tim were the only people who would give her the time of day. She really struggled, socially speaking. Still does, but she¡¯s much better at managing it. She won¡¯t talk to me about it, but one way or another she managed to turn almost everyone who knew her against her. If it weren¡¯t for those boys I don¡¯t know where she¡¯d be today.¡± The woman smoothed out her blouse. ¡°In any case, they may as well be family. I¡¯ve adored them since day one.¡±


    James felt especially bad now for being an ass to Rox¨¢n. Of course, he had no way of knowing, but in hindsight there really is no excuse to be bitchy to someone you¡¯ve just met, not even to put distance between yourself and a potential threat. His burdens didn¡¯t have to be hers, too.