The Last Family Road Trip (Vampire Innocent Book 4) Page 2

  Big fangs plus aluminum can plus laughing equals geyser of beer foam.

  He slings beer off his hand. “I am, for the first time in my un-life, glad I do not need to breathe. Fairly sure I’ve got suds in my lungs now.”

  “There’s more. I’m worried about them, too. I’m trying to just be normal but it’s only been two months and I’ve already nearly gotten them killed twice. Aurélie’s influence to protect my family doesn’t cover the entire country.”

  “Other vampires won’t simply sense your presence and come out of the woodwork specifically to mess with your mortal family.”

  I shrug.

  “You’d have to at least do something to become noticed. Petra didn’t randomly target you out of spite.”

  “I helped a guy she was torturing! How was I supposed to know that would make some psycho bitch want to… to… you know.” I grab two fistfuls of my hair and stifle the urge to scream in frustration.

  “It is a vacation, correct? Perhaps you could try to enjoy it?”

  “I dunno.” I pick at my sneaker. “Nothing about my life is normal anymore. I just know something crazy is going to happen.”

  He sips the rest of can three while stargazing. “Oh, you’re probably right. But if life were boring, what would be the point?”

  “Some people thrive on boredom.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “Stamp collecting.”

  “Okay.” He raises a hand. “I’ll concede that point.”

  I lean back, letting my hair dance in the wind. “Bird watching. Fishing. Watching golf on TV.”

  Again, I get the glowing-yellow side eye. Wow. He’s so good at that I practically hear the organ crash.

  “Too much?” I ask with a wry grin. “Meatloaf.”

  “Perhaps. I believe the CIA once experimented with televised golf as a torture device. And what does meatloaf have to do with it? Not a fan of his music?”

  “No, I mean the food. My grandmother makes this meatloaf that’s so bland Sierra once called it a block of solidified boredom.”

  He manages to stop drinking before erupting in laughter. Humor lasts only a moment before somberness takes over his features. “The trip is more about your family than where you go.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I bury my face in my hands. “That’s why I think I should stay home. So I don’t ruin it for them.”

  “If your father truly wants you to go, you’ll ruin it by not going. He’ll spend the whole time thinking about your not being there.”

  “Why do dads always wield guilt like a weapon?”

  He salutes me with can number five. “It’s what we do. And, thank you for this.”

  I smile through a curtain of hair at him. “You’re welcome. Glad my random idea worked.”

  “Oh, you may have done something quite dangerous.”

  “Umm… what, like you might explode from the carbonation when the blood I gave you wears off?”

  “No.” He wags his eyebrows at me. “I may ask you to do this again sometime.”

  2

  A Matter of Logistics

  Speaking of boredom, I wonder if the universe ever expected Thursdays to be like the ‘middle child’ among days.

  No one ever looks forward to a Thursday for it being a Thursday, birthdays, holidays, and stuff notwithstanding—it’s pretty uninspiring despite being named after the God of Thunder. Granted, no one hates it like Mondays. Nor does it ever cause the ‘ugh, it’s only Tuesday’ feeling. I bet there’s never been anyone coming down with a ‘case of the Thursdays’ either. But it’s nowhere near as beloved as Friday.

  Mostly, Thursday is a ‘well it could be worse, it could be Wednesday’ kind of day.

  So here I am on the last Thursday in July, listening to Sierra’s PlayStation shake the floor above my head. Her friend Nicole’s over the house, along with a few other friends. The somewhat heavyset girl, Megan, from Sophia’s dance class is here as well. Poor kid didn’t have a lot of friends until Sophia cheered her up in dance class by sharing my mortifying story. Initially, she didn’t trust an overture of friendship from noodle-thin, adorable Sophia, expecting it to be a setup for some cruel humiliation. However, Sophia is so damn sweet it didn’t take long for Megan to realize she’d made a real friend. They both even adore unicorns.

  Sierra still wants to write a video game when she gets older that somehow combines unicorns with machineguns and missiles. My sister is weird. Or maybe she’s trying to get Sophia to play a video game they could both participate in. Sierra refuses to play the cute games and Sophia avoids anything violent, bloody, scary, or sad—which is pretty much everything Sierra likes.

  A crashing rumble thunders overhead followed by a boy shouting, “I’m good!”

  I send Mom a text: ‹What the heck was that?›

  ‹Daryl fell down the stairs. He’s okay.›

  This happens every year right before ‘the road trip.’ Not Daryl falling down the stairs… I mean friend overload. There are so many ‘under eighteens’ in the house, I think the place legally counts as a day care. Sadly, my friends are both at work. So is Hunter. So, I’m sitting in my basement bedroom avoiding a slightly-too-bright-for-comfort sun while studying a textbook I’ll be using in a little more than a month when I start college.

  Okay, I’m lying. I’m playing Doom on the computer.

  I did want to read—not a textbook—but the explosions from the PlayStation plus six tween girls are so damn loud I can’t concentrate on reading. An hour or so later, I sense a change in the air. The weather app on my phone shows clouds with a high chance of rain. Awesome. A door test confirms it’s become gloomy, so I change out of my extra-long sleep T-shirt into a normal tee with sweat pants, then head upstairs.

  The living room is basically a fifth-grade classroom… so I wave and go right to the kitchen. Out of sheer habit, I help myself to some cookies and plop down in a chair. Evidently, dad has sensed a disturbance in the force—my being among the living—and emerges from his office.

  “Sam, c’mere a sec,” he yells before saying, “Soph, Sierra, you too. Just for a few minutes.”

  He enters the kitchen right as I bite down on chocolate chip. Hey what’s the point of having superpowers if I don’t abuse them? Immunity to calories: check.

  “Hey, hon.” Dad takes the chair catty corner to me.

  Sierra and Sophia walk in after him, lined up like they’re expecting to be sent off to military school—except they’re out of uniform. Soph’s doing her usual pink dress thing while Sierra’s sporting a black T-shirt with ‘so what’ on it as well as jeans. She does offer a small token on the altar of girlishness to the tune of teal polish on her toes. For the second time today, thunder comes down the stairs. For a second, I think Daryl’s rolling down the steps again until I realize it’s only Sam running. I still can’t explain how a scrawny nine-year-old is so damn loud on those steps. My little brother skids to a halt, almost falling over when his sock-covered feet fail to stop on the smooth kitchen floor. Except for having socks on—and most likely not wearing toenail polish—he’s dressed like Sierra.

  The other girls in the living room keep playing the video game, and I can almost follow the conversation going on between Daryl and Jordan upstairs in Sam’s room—but I don’t.

  “So,” says Dad, clapping his hands together like a cartoon weasel with a plan. “I’ve decided where we’re going for the road trip.”

  “Aren’t we supposed to leave tomorrow? And you just decided?” asks Sierra.

  “Well, technically, your mother and I decided a few days ago. But yes, we are leaving tomorrow.” He waits, his face frozen in this expression like he’s expecting us all to explode with excitement.

  “Yay!” yells Sophia.

  Sierra glances at her.

  “What?” whispers Sophia. “Am I being too obvious? That was forced, wasn’t it?”

  Dad chuckles. “Okay, guys. We’re going to the Lewis and Clark caves in Montana.”

  �
��Caves?” asks Sierra, a hint of a scoff in her voice. “Seriously?”

  “They should be fun. It’s also a campground. We’re renting an RV, so we’ll be camping there for four days. We decided on caves partially for Sarah’s benefit.”

  I twirl the half-eaten cookie in an ‘oh yay’ gesture. “If it’s not too roasty out for me to get to the caves.”

  Sam shrugs. “Okay.”

  “Do we have to go?” asks Sierra, a pained smile-grimace on her face.

  “I guess it’s cool.” Sophia puffs at a strand of blonde over her eye. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind staying home not to miss dance class, but a trip’s okay, too.”

  “Oh, I’m sure one miss won’t hurt.” Dad smiles.

  “Two.” Sophia holds up two fingers. “We’re going for a whole week, right?”

  “It’s okay guys.” I stare at the last bite of cookie number one. “You guys should go and don’t let me be a burden. There’s no reason you need to visit caves for my sake. Do something fun.”

  Dad leans close and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Sarah, you’re not a burden. I’d really like for you to come with us considering this is probably the last time the whole family goes on the traditional road trip.”

  My mother’s sniffle comes from the archway to the living room. I’m surprised to hear it above the din of friends shouting over the PlayStation. I glance over at her. She hasn’t even taken her coat off yet. Barely a minute in the door from work and she walks straight into Dad’s super guilt bomb.

  “Guys…” I hold my arms out to the sides. “I’m not dead.”

  Sierra raises an eyebrow.

  “Well. Okay. Technically, I am dead, but… argh!” I sigh at the ceiling. “You know what I mean. No one has to be all gloomy about it. I’m not.”

  Dad pats my arm twice and sits back in his chair. “No, it’s not that. I’m talking about time.”

  “You would’ve moved off to college and grown up,” says Mom. “I mean, even if it didn’t happen to you, I don’t imagine you’d keep showing up year after year once you moved out. Especially if you started a fam—”

  Sophia cringes, curling her toes. Sierra shoots Mom a ‘nice one’ glance. Sam looks back and forth between me and Mom without much of a discernible expression.

  “It’s okay, Mom.” I smile at her. “I know what you meant. Really, I don’t want to be a giant pain in the ass for you guys. My new existence presents certain issues that make road tripping a little annoying.”

  “Not a big deal this time.” Dad smiles. “Like I said, we’re renting an RV. I got some tint film to put on the windows of the back bedroom—that we can remove before returning it—so you’ll have a comfortable hideaway if need be.”

  Both of my sisters look at me. It’s too bright in here for me to be ‘online’ yet, but I don’t really need mind reading powers to see what’s all over their faces. At a guess, Sierra wants me to stay home so she can use that as an excuse to dodge the trip entirely. Sophia doesn’t care as much about going or not going but will refuse to go if I don’t. Sam, despite his neutral expression, wants to go… but not without me. Dad’s desperate to have one last ‘whole family’ outing while I’m still not ‘out of the nest.’ And Mom… she’s ready to start crying at any moment, probably thinking of me as ‘all grown up and on my own.’ I consider what Glim said about spending time with my family while I can.

  Oh wow. Guess I’m really not quite dead yet. I’m kinda getting in touch with my old surly teen persona. My not wanting to go isn’t completely because I feel bad about being pain in their asses. I don’t want the interruption to my routine or separation from my ‘friends time’ which is already kinda limited by that stupid job thing. Right. I’m having a twinge of selfishness. Yay for normality. The last five or six months before Scott murdered me, I pretty much did everything I possibly could to avoid my siblings. Not that I was ever directly mean to them, but Sophia’s clinginess did get on my nerves. I mean we had our moments, but I hadn’t been the best big sis for a while. Seventeen going on spoiled brat. Nothing quite like a knife to the heart for an attitude adjustment.

  “Okay.” I hold my hands up in surrender at Dad. “I’ll go. But don’t drive too fast during the day or I can’t make the cop go away. And if I have to hide in the RV due to sun issues, you guys are going to go out and do whatever without guilt.”

  “This is Dad you’re talking to,” mutters Sierra. “If he gets pulled over, it’ll be for delaying traffic.”

  “Old ladies with walkers pull up beside him at traffic lights and challenge him to race,” says Sophia, giggling.

  “Very funny, you two. There won’t be any speeding going on. Not in an RV. They can’t go that fast.”

  Sam looks up at him. “So, we’re going to get there in time to turn around and come home?”

  Dad ruffles my brother’s hair and laughs. “It’s not quite that slow.” He shoos the littles back to their friends, then stares at me with a bit of guilt in his eyes.

  “It’s fine, Dad. Really. I’m not going under protest.”

  “What’s bothering you then?”

  I pick up cookie two. “We’ll be going away from Aurélie’s territory. I’m worried.”

  “Well.” Dad rubs his chin. “Have you angered any entities of great power recently? Stolen anything from a vampire elder? Taken any giant gems from the foreheads of ancient stone idols?”

  “Hah. No.” I grin.

  Dad pats the table. “Then we should be fine. Keep an eye on the house, okay? Now that your mother is back, we’re going to get the RV.”

  “That was fast.” I bite cookie two in half.

  “Put it on reserve last week.” He winks at me.

  “You knew I’d cave in and go?”

  Mom kisses me on the head. “That. Was. Awful.”

  “Huh?” I look up at her.

  “Cave in?” She sighs. “You and your father with the puns.”

  Dad wags his eyebrows. “That was deep.”

  “Argh.” Mom tries to sound frustrated but winds up laughing.

  “Like, totally, I didn’t even say that on purpose.” I toss the last portion of cookie in my mouth.

  “Ahh.” Dad clasps his hands together and bows at me like a Shaolin monk. “To pun without knowing is the final stage of transcendence. And give it a chance. I’m sure exploring caves is going to rock.”

  I stand and point at the archway. “Go… before Mom hits you over the head with a French bread or something. I’ll get started on dinner.”

  Dad puts a hand to my forehead. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay.”

  “You better go before the place closes.” I poke him in the side.

  “Yeah… good point.” He eyes the living room. “You gonna be okay watching all these kids at once?”

  Laughing, I head over to the fridge to check Mom’s meal planning calendar. Ravioli tonight. “Yeah. Easy. None of them have claws.”

  3

  Are We There Yet

  Temporary tint is a lot more effective than I thought it could be.

  Granted, we put five layers on the window, so it’s pretty much black. Dad’s convinced it’ll come off with some razor blade work before he returns this giant RV. Or maybe he’ll leave it and see if they notice. So yeah… my parents rented this monstrosity easily the size of a city bus. The back bedroom is my temporary lair on wheels, with a queen-sized bed that extends a couple feet out the side to create space between the foot end and a slim entertainment center with a thirty-two inch TV. The window above the bed is (or was) the problem, but it should be fairly sun-proof after the modifications. If not, I can still hide in one of the three closets on the RV’s rear-most wall.

  Right outside the bedroom door, a set of bunk beds stands on the left opposite the bathroom with a tiny shower stall, toilet, and this cute little sink. Past that, it has a mini-kitchen and a booth table on the left with two bench seats. That whole section also extends out to the left like the bed for more interior space. On t
he right, there’s a full-size fridge, the door out, and a sofa… then the driver and passenger seat with a pedestal table between them.

  Roughing it, this isn’t.

  I decide not to be annoying and head out to the RV a little while before dawn. Regardless of how bright or gloomy the day is, I’m forced to sleep at sunrise. Assuming I haven’t endured a supernatural ass-kicking, my wake up time is around two in the afternoon. Exertion or trauma can push it later… and every so often I randomly have a ‘you’re not waking up until it’s dark’ day, but that’s only happened a few times so far.

  Hey, I guess it’s like being a normal person when it’s raining really hard on a cold day. The body simply refuses to get out of bed.

  So anyway, I crashed in the queen bed with the door closed and put my faith in Dad’s first-ever attempt to tint a car window. Though he did have some practice on the basement windows, even if he didn’t five-layer those.

  I wake to the steady vibration of wheels on road. The time isn’t readily apparent, but it has to be daylight out because we’re driving. Dad’s chosen destination of the Lewis and Clark Caverns is about an eleven-hour ride—closer to thirteen with Dad driving—and I know he said he wanted to be moving by seven in the morning. This more than likely involved them carrying my siblings out of their beds, still in their PJs and transplanting them to the bunk beds in the RV. Or maybe they bribed them with food.

  Fortunately, this bedroom is dark enough for me to be fully online. That is a good sign. A little sun leaks in under the door like a strip of nuclear fusion. Ugh. I’m probably going to be stuck in this little bedroom all day. A Safeway bag on the entertainment center that wasn’t there when I passed out catches my eye.

  I fling the covers off and crawl to kneel at the foot end. With the bed retracted, there’s barely an inch of space between it and the entertainment center. The bag contains a red cardboard box with saran wrap over the open top and the words ‘break glass in case of annoying sun’ on it in black marker. Hah. Dad made a ‘fire alarm,’ only it contains DVDs. Boredom buster for me.