Pretty When She Dies (Pretty When She Dies #1)(29)

As far as she could tell, she wasn't being searched for as a living person. They thought she was dead. Even her father had said he felt she was dead and gone. Obviously, he was lying through his teeth.

She supposed after she tossed him and her brother around, he had figured out she wasn't alive. The final leap from the house had probably confirmed it.

The newspaper had a description of her open grave and described her dorm room as being riddled with mud and blood. The police finally had come out and said they believed she had been murdered and that her body had been taken with the killers. They couldn't explain her empty grave, but they were convinced the Satanists had carted off her dead body.

What her Grandmama and cousin thought of this, she had no clue.

But she had a feeling Sergio was convinced she was running from the Satanists. He had probably reassured her grandmother that she was fine and on her way to see her. Of course, what was really happening was even more absurd. She was a vampire running from her killer and creator.

Closing her eyes, she listened to the symphony of the wind rushing over the bus, the passengers breathing heavily or snoring as they slept, and the rumble of the bus' engine. In the old days, before she had been killed, she would have been munching on chips and drinking a diet soda. But she hadn't had food in days now and drink had little or no appeal to her. She was starting to miss food. The texture, the taste, the satisfaction from consuming something delicious. But food was too easily supplanted by blood now. It was warm, thick liquid that tasted divine as it filled her and renewed her. The memory of the taste of food was beginning to fade from her. It made her sad.

The sound of the air brakes stirred her from her reverie. She looked up to see the station coming into view as the bus slowed down. With remarkable ease and talent, the bus driver maneuvered the lumbering vehicle up into the station in Eastland. As the lights came on and the brakes whooshed, people stirred awake and began to move.

Amaliya grabbed up her bag and headed down the narrow aisle as fast as she could before she ended up at the end of the line. She easily beat out everyone disembarking. The bus driver sat silently in his chair rubbing his eyes as the passengers departed. She wondered briefly what it felt like to be tired. She didn't feel physically tired anymore.

As she came down the high steps, she caught sight of her very tall cousin. Whereas her mother and Mae had married men of good old German and Polish stock, the third sister, Sergio's mom Susan, had married Ruben Guerra. Sergio was tall, stockily built, with dark skin and curly black hair, but with striking Germanic facial features and green eyes. He stood looking very solemn, with his arms folded over his chest, until he saw her, then he smiled with relief.

Rushing to him, she knew he would sweep her up and hug her. And he did, crushing her tight, and kissing her cheek. She held tight to him for several seconds, then drew back, trying not to cry her blood tears.

“You okay?” he asked softly, and grabbed up her bag.

“Yeah, I am now.”

“You're dead, you know,” he whispered. He slung his arm over her shoulder and guided her toward his big Ford truck.

“I saw that in the paper,” Amaliya confessed.

“Gawdawful picture of you,” Sergio mused. “Which I guess is a good thing. No one has recognized you?”

She shook her head and was relieved when he unlocked the truck and opened the door. “Does Grandmama know?”

“No, no. I kept her entertained all evening making an enormous feast for us. I even lied and told her Cynthia and the munchkins might join us,” Sergio said, referring to his wife and children. “Anything to keep her away from the TV until the late shows come on.” He slammed the door shut once she was inside, cutting the conversation short. He walked around the truck and climbed in on the other side. Starting it up, he said in a low voice, “What happened?”

Amaliya rubbed her face and shook her head. “I don't want to talk about it. I'll just tell Grandmama that I have to go away for awhile and not go into details.”

“Something really bad happened to you,” Sergio said in a grim voice.

He was just a year or two older than her, but his maturity pressed down on her. He had a dad vibe that she didn't know how to take. “I think I deserve to know what.”

Shrugging slightly, she looked out the window, then decided to tell him the abbreviated truth. “I was attacked. And the person who did it buried me in the forest and I got out.”

“Shit,” Sergio exclaimed in shock. “Shit! You were buried alive?”

“I went back to the dorm room, packed and left,” she continued, leaving a whole huge chunk of the truth out. Like the fact that she was really dead.



“Does your Dad know?”

“I went straight to him to ask him for the truck so I could just disappear for awhile. So, yeah, he knows,” she sighed.

“He didn't give you the truck, huh?”

“Nope. Aunt Mae had to get her two cents in.”

Sergio shook his head and turned out onto the highway. “I thought it was bad enough when I heard that Pete Talbert had a heart attack, but this beats all.”

Amaliya quirked an eyebrow. “Pete had a heart attack?”

“Yep. They found him in a hotel room. He was pretty close to death, but he's okay now. At least they think it was a heart attack. Who knows.” Sergio drove with his arm propped up on the edge of the window, his strong fingers gripping the wheel tightly. “They called Felipe to let him know since they were old buddies since we were all kids. I remember how bad a crush Pete had on you. We used to tease him about it all the time whenever we visited ya'll out there.”