The sidewalks in Henspence weren’t as crowded as the ones in Pinkerlee. Yet, every single person out and about wanted to get in Robin’s way.
It was maddening, like a poorly designed challenge in a video game.
He darted around a teenaged couple arguing about peanut shells, swerved out into the road to get around a whole group of women pushing baby carriages, nearly ran into a parked 1987 Mercedes, charged back to the sidewalk just as a hulking motorcycle gang tromped out of a bar. He pushed and shoved through them, barely resisting the urge to slash them out of his way.
Darnation! I feel like I oughta be tossin’ newspapers or collectin’ coins or somethin’.
A couple of mongrels raced out of an alley and proceeded to have a fangs and claws fight right in Robin’s path.
“Oh, come on!” He ran out onto the street again and nearly got run down by a speeding red sports car.
Robin stumbled back and tripped over the curb. He fell hard on his bottom.
He sat there for a moment to steady his nerves.
They refused to be steadied.
I need to keep goin’. I need to get to him. I need to see him.
A small team of chattering teenagers trompled past him.
“Give me a freakin’ break.” Robin grumbled. “You all had to go bargin’ this way? Like there weren’t no other space to go plowin’ through?”
They failed to notice his complaint and off they went to the other side of the street.
He stood and dusted himself off.
At this rate, I ain’t never gonna get to Caten’s place before sunrise. Plus, I still gotta climb that whole stupid cliff of his. That’ll take forever.
I need to move faster.
Robin thought about it. “Guess I could run football tackler style, but e’en that would slow me down.” A smile spread across his face as he remembered the bike club he’d pushed his way through. “So? Why run?”
***
Robin held on tight to Chawlie, a large man with a buzz cut and an aggressive five o’clock shadow, as they sped to the other side of town.
Robin had tried to talk the bikers into lending him one of their bikes, but apparently that sort of thing went against club policy. He had begged and pleaded his case, but it was a non-negotiable thing. Finally, Chawlie, the leader of the group, took pity on the vampire and offered to ride him over to Caten’s place.
He leaned the side of his face against the biker’s leather jacket. It smelled like motor oil with a faint tang of bleach. Not the best smell in the world, but Robin wasn’t complaining.
If this were Isellta.
He smiled dreamily at the mental image of Isellta dressed like a biker. It was a very appealing image. He hugged Chawlie’s waist a little tighter.
‘sellta. I’m on my way to you. I’ll be there soon. I promise.
ambroseandelsie 