No words in Jayda’s vocabulary could describe the constant discomfort she felt within her mind. The looming presence was the strongest while she stayed in her room at Nicholas’ house. It centered around the energy still festering in the hall, sealed away from sight. Though the truth was now known by her, the thick energies remained, pressing around her without prejudice. She needed to get out of there, if only for a few hours.
     As Jayda climbed the stairs to the main floor, she found the house empty and dark. Outside, night had sat in and the coolness to the air had returned. The porch’s floorboards creaked under her as she walked toward the other end. Light came from the garage, as well as music from a radio. Curious, she headed off the porch and skulked to the garage’s side door. She reached for the door knob then stopped. What if the vampire was in there?
     Listening to hip-hop?
     Jayda’s doubts that the werewolf was alone sent her hand back to her side. She didn’t feel like talking to him anyway. Out of everyone staying within the house, it was the newest one—Lori—she felt the most comfortable around. Perhaps she was still in her room. As Jayda turned away from the door, she heard the handle click and the music grow louder. She looked back and saw Nicholas standing in the doorway.
     “Is there something you want?” he asked.
     Jayda stammered as she tried to conjure up any feasible response. “The… it’s just… the house was too quiet and I was looking for Lori, so I came out here, but I guess you haven’t seen her either.”
     “She went out with Arden at sunset to hunt deer. That can take several hours.”
     Hunting deer? Why would she go with him to hunt deer? There was something about that lady she couldn’t quite figure out.
     “Why would she…?” Jayda said before stopping herself. “I guess I’ll go inside and wait for her.”
     “Or you can stay out here and help me.” He opened the door further and stepped to the side.
     Jayda didn’t see this as an invitation but more like an order. With her eyes dropping to the ground, she entered the garage. The black van sat in the center of the garage, its hood up and new air filter ready to be installed. Nicholas nodded at the bench stool as he passed. “You can have a seat if you like,” he said, returning to his work on the van’s engine.
     Again, she took this as an order and sat on the wobbly, aluminum stool. Her eyes moved around the cluttered garage. The place was the complete opposite of the house. Where everything was kept in its place inside, the garage was a wreck. Deer skulls, still crowned with antlers, lined walls, some hidden by stacks of boxes. An old soda machine sat in the far corner, its top covered in other odds and ends. More items filled the outer walls, with the center of the garage remaining clear enough for the van. The truth then struck Jayda. He only used the house for sleeping and work, while this area offered him a chance to escape.
     She heard him talking to her but his words were lost amongst the music. She caught him looking back at her, waiting for an answer.
     Jayda shook her head. “What did you say?”
     Nicholas went to the bench and turned off the music, then continued installing the new filter. “I asked about today. Why did you try to leave?”
     “I didn’t,” she answered, her eyes dropping back to the floor. “I just wanted to go for a walk.”
     “Don’t lie to me.”
     Jayda swiveled around in the stool, propped her elbows on the bench and began to flip through an old Sears catalog. The careless action was to show a lack of interest in the question. “The house is suffocating. I needed a walk to clear my head.”
     “Fine. Lie.”
     She heard metal against metal as he returned to the engine.
     “I would be more than happy to help you get home, but that’s not up to me,” he said.
     “I’m alright staying here for now.” To utter the lie was harder than she thought, but she continued the facade. “I thought you needed my help.”
     “Changing the filter and oil, I can handle that myself. The help I needed was some answers to my questions. What did you two talk about on your walk?”
     Jayda flipped through the pages faster as her mind shuffled through any decent reply. “Nothing really. She says there’s more people out there like me. I don’t know if I should believe her. I want to.”
     Nicholas, finished with his current task, grabbed a rag and wiped off his hands. He then turned around, leaning against the van. “I wouldn’t believe anything she has to say,” he replied. “I find it a little odd that she happened to be there last night. And she hasn’t been really forthcoming with her answers. Then there’s the fact of what she is.
     The last sentence sent Jayda to swivel back around, her eyes narrowing at him. “What is she?”
     Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “She didn’t tell you?”
     “She was pretty much quiet about herself. She was more interested in me.”
     “Well, she’s not human. Arden says she’s a half-breed; human and vampire. They’re suppose to be rare, even hunted by vampires. And if she’s lived this long, then she knows what to say in order to stay alive.”
     “So she could be lying to me?”
     “I would take anything she says with a grain of salt.”
     “Oh.” She looked away as she noticed herself watching him, watching her.
     “Where did you grow up?” he asked, picking up a glass of ice water that sat beside the radio.
     “Why do you want to know?”
     “Just small talk.”
     Jayda took in a deep breath, stalling as she debated on whether to tell the truth. “Montana.” The truth it was.
     “A long way from home.”
     “I have no home,” she mumbled.
     Nicholas scooted another stool to the bench and sat down, taking another drink before speaking. “How do you control it?”
     “I can’t control it.”
     “Then what is it?”
     “I don’t know what it is. I just hear things, but it’s not words, it’s more like feelings. And they’re starting to become stronger.”
     “So you don’t talk to the dead or read thoughts?”
     “Nothing like that.”
     “What’s your real name?”
     Jayda answered, her eyes returning to him. “Jennifer.”
     Nicholas’ tone changed, softening as he continued his questions. “How did you get mixed up with them?”
     “I, uhm. I ran away. I went to Las Vegas to find work.”
     “How old were you?”
     “Fifteen. I got a fake ID, tried passing myself off as twenty-one. I’m not sure if it worked, but no one outwardly questioned me. I worked as a waitress in the beginning, then did a few months in laundry at a hotel. Went back to waitressing, this time at a strip club. Stayed there the longest. The tips were better. I started seeing this guy. He was very secretive. And then one night when he was picking me up from work, he took me into the desert. There were other cars there and other girls. He put me with them. They, uh… They took everything of ours; clothes, purses, phones, everything. We all stood there as the auction began. We were runaways, already on wanted posters. I was sold to the group who bought most of the girls. One man bought several girls and ordered them to run if they wanted to live. After they took off, he asked if anyone wanted to go hunting. He made his money back, plus some. I remember hearing the girls’ screams in the darkness and kept thinking how lucky I was to get the better deal.”
     “I’m sorry,” Nicholas forced himself to say.
     “Why are you sorry? You’ve done nothing wrong.”
     “We were suppose to kill everyone in that place. We were suppose to kill you.”
     “Alive or dead, it doesn’t matter now.” She straightened herself on the stool, gaining a burst of confidence. “Can you do something for me?”
     “Depends on what it is.”
     “The one who sold me, can you find him for me?”
     Nicholas shook his head. “I’m not killing him for you. He’s your kill. All I can do is give you the gun.”
     “Then get me a gun.”
     He slumped in his seat, watching her carefully. This was a different side to her, a fire that was long since extinguished was beginning to spark back into life. Was this the real Jennifer or the true damaged one?
     “Give me his name and possible address,” he said within a sigh.
     “Jason Randall Martin. He was last living at the Christine Apartments in Las Vegas.”
     Burning the name into his mind, Nicholas replied, “I’ll see what I can do.”