The Becoming

His tone is soft, almost seductive.

I know. That's why I'm leaving.

I won't stop you.

Avery steps back from the door . My home is forever open to you. As time goes on, you will have questions. I am, and always will be, at your service.

He sounds so formal, like he's reciting an official vampire ceremonial closing speech.

He smiles at my interpretation. Well, after three hundred years, we'll see how dated you sound.

That was far too easy.

I've got the top down on the Jag and I'm cruising west on Ardath toward home. Avery didn't try to talk me into his plan or out of leaving.

Neither of which makes sense.

But it's one in the morning, the night is cloudless and the road is deserted. I want to shake off the feeling of Avery and his band of merry vampires, so I give the Jag its head. There's nothing like the acceleration of an 8 cylinder, 390 hp supercharged engine to clear away the cobwebs.

I should know better.

The cop picks me up at the intersection of Torrey Pines and Ardath. I see him the same time he sees me, and I know that little radar gun he's pointed at me has already registered the fact that I'm speeding by at 120 mph. There's no sense in reaching for the emergency brake to try to throw him off, I simply take my foot off the gas and let the black and white catch up.

He does, lights flashing. I pull over and wait for him to come to me. I've worked with cops long enough to know you don't jump out of your car or start rummaging in your purse for your license. It makes them testy. So I sit quietly, both hands on the steering wheel like a good little girl, and watch in the rearview mirror as he approaches. He's big, thick-bodied, like a wrestler, with his cap pulled down low over his face.

He shines a flashlight in my eyes. “Good morning, Miss. Do you know why I stopped you?"

On reflex, I put up a hand to shield my eyes. “I was speeding."

He doesn't lower the flashlight. “Please put your hands back on the steering wheel."

"Please lower the flashlight. It's hurting my eyes."

He doesn't drop the light, but instead shoves it closer to my face. The glare causes sharp pinpricks of pain at the back of my eyes.

Is this another vampire peculiarity? I can go out in sunlight, but the strobe of a flashlight is intolerable?

I hear, rather than see, my car door being opened. The cop's voice is hard and brittle at my ear. “Please step out of the car,” he says.

I do, stumbling a little. It's as if the light is affecting my equilibrium as well as my sight.

"Have you been drinking, Miss?"

God. I assume he means alcohol. How much wine did I drink? I remember one glass. It's probably not wise to share that though.

“No, officer. I haven't been drinking. It's that light in my eyes that's causing the problem. Is it really necessary to blind me?"

He must take umbrage at my tone, because before I can say anything else, his hands dig into my shoulders and he's turning me so that I'm facing my car. He jerks my hands together behind my back.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you in,” he says, snapping cuffs on my wrists.

It happens so fast that I don't have time to react. “You're arresting me?” I squeak, outrage notching my voice up an octave. “For what?"

I still haven't seen his face. I try to turn but he doesn't let me.

"Driving under the influence, Miss,” he says, shoving me toward his car.

I dig my heels in. “Wait a minute. Don't you have to give me a sobriety test or something? I tell you, I'm not drunk."

But even if I were, the muzzle of the gun pressed into the small of my back would have sobered me up fast enough. “What are you doing?"

"Get into the car, bitch,” he says, his voice full of venom. “Or I'll stake you right here."

Chapter Fourteen

He's human; I feel it. One of those anti-watchers Avery warned me about? I stop fighting and let him manhandle me into the back seat of the car. I don't know what a bullet will do to me, and I'm not sure this is the time to find out. I figure my best chance to get away will be when we get to wherever it is he plans to take me. I'm willing to bet it won't be jail.

He's stopped talking. He sweeps the cap off his head and tosses it into the back seat beside me. Then he's behind the wheel. He throws me an over-the-shoulder glance through the mesh of the wire partition separating us. “Relax,” he says. “We're going for a ride."

I settle back into the seat, working at the cuffs. They're standard police issue. If I had my purse, I could use my own handcuff key to free myself. Unfortunately, it's in the trunk of my car.

"Aren't you going to let me get my purse?” I ask. “It's in the car."

He ignores the request as he guides the police car back onto the road. He makes a U-turn at the first opportunity, and we're soon cruising north on Torrey Pines road. Away from downtown San Diego and jail.

"Where are you taking me?"

I may as well be talking to myself. Once again, he doesn't answer. He doesn't even act as if he's heard.

"Somewhere dark and deserted, I imagine,” I continue anyway. “You'll need privacy for what you have in mind. Around here that would be what—the State Park?"

His eyes flash back in the mirror, but then he must remember—vampire—and he stops looking.

But I can see him. The streetlights cast enough illumination for me to study his face. He's younger than I am, with short-cropped blond hair and a jutting chin. “Are you even a real cop?"

That brings a smile to his full lips. “Yeah. I'm a real cop. I'm here to protect and serve. Getting rid of vermin like you is my favorite part of the job."

I think back to what Avery said. “And you get a bounty for each vampire you dust, right? How do you prove the kill? Is there a little red Dustbuster back here somewhere?"

"You're a real smart-ass, aren't you?” The blue eyes harden. “They'll find your car tomorrow morning. Your ID is inside. When it's learned that you've vanished, that will be all the confirmation I need."

"So it's only been forty-eight hours, and I've already been identified as a vampire,” I say. “I'm impressed. How do you get your information?"

But he doesn't reply. In fact, the rest of the ride he remains silent, doesn't even glance back again. So I use the time to test the cuffs, twisting my wrists to see if I can slip my hands out. No dice. I try to wriggle myself down in the seat, thinking if I can maneuver my hands in front, I'll have a better chance to defend myself. But I can't do that without making it obvious what I'm up to, and then I'll lose the element of surprise.

I remain slouched, watching his eyes in the mirror. The mirror. I can see him but he can't see me. I've transformed enough to have lost my reflection. Let's see if I can make that work for me.

I've never been especially limber. I take Yoga more for the mental benefits than physical, but damned if I don't manage to get my hands under my butt, then gradually to pull one leg at a time through my handcuffed wrists. I move slowly, so slowly not even a rustle of silk gives away what I'm doing in that back seat. The cop never glances back. It's so easy, I wonder if flexibility isn't another vampire physiological anomaly.

I scoot over so that I'm sitting in the corner, close to the door. “So, how many vampire notches do you have on your gun belt?"