Of the mysterious Israel, not a sign.
"You buying something?" Ed asked, and deliberately broke his stare to reach for a cloth and wipe down the battered Formica counter. I could sense the effort it took, to be that casual about it. I edged forward again, trying to catch a glimpse around the rack without risking my neck, but again, nothing. Not a sign, not a clue.
"Yeah," Israel said. "Got any candy bars? I've got a sweet tooth these days. Hungry all the time."
Ed paused in his wiping down of the counter, but kept his head down. I could have sworn I saw him flinch, but then he deliberately continued. "Sure. Down that aisle." He nodded at the place I'd been working. I heard the heavy thud of boots, but dammit, there was nothing in the mirror.
Now, I'm a modern girl. I've read Dracula. I've seen Buffy. I'm not totally without a clue. But who in their right mind could possibly expect to run into a vampire at Mart's Texaco in Pine Bluff, Arizona?
I pulled my head back like a scared turtle when I heard the scrape of footsteps on the other side of the food rack. Thin cover. I wasn't sure how much danger I was in, but I knew one thing: Ed wasn't the kind of guy to protect me unless he really believed it was serious. I held my breath and kept the glass fogged all along the bottom of the refrigerated case, just as insurance. That way, if he glanced that way, he wouldn't be treated to the undignified sight of a Weather Warden cowering on the not-too-clean linoleum floor.
Israel fumbled around in the Snickers bars I had so recently counted, and I heard his footsteps ambling back up toward the register. Weren't vampires supposed to be stealthy and quick? Not this guy. He was taking his time, and his footsteps sounded like he'd borrowed the Frankenstein monster's boots.
"Dollar six," Ed said. I risked another look. Love him or hate him, Ed was made of stern stuff; he was staring right at the man who was bellied up against the counter, and holding out his hand. The sale was insignificant, but I had the feeling that Ed was trying to make a point. Maybe if he let Israel take a candy bar, the next thing would be his life.
Israel himself was smaller than I'd have expected, considering the galumphing boots — maybe five foot five, and either bald or in the habit of shaving his head. He had an elaborate rose tattooed on the shiny mirrorlike finish of his pale — I mean pale as sour cream — skin right at the back of his head, and he was clad, head to foot, in black leather. Including gloves. Sharp-looking sunglasses, from what I could see of the side of his face.
I'd never seen anybody that pale, including the melanin-deficient. His skin had a cold gray tone to it, as if it was made of clay. No veins showing underneath. Even the palest albino I'd ever met had a flush of veins showing, and a living tone to that alabaster skin; this was downright wrong.
Israel was staring at Ed. Ed was staring back, hand still extended. After a good, sweaty half a minute, Israel barked a hoarse laugh, reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two crumpled dollar bills that he dropped in Ed's palm. "Keep the change," Israel said, and smiled. I only saw the edge of it, but that was weird and sinister enough to make me duck my head back again, heart pounding. Could he hear that? God, I hoped not. "And tell your girl I don't eat anybody I haven't been properly introduced to."
I didn't see Ed's face, but I knew my hands were shaking, and I wasn't easy to scare. I pressed them hard into the floor and stood up slowly. No point in hiding, obviously.
I regretted it as soon as my head passed the level of the food rack, because Israel had turned to look right at me. Even with the sunglasses hiding his eyes, I felt the pressure of his stare. His face was smooth and regular as marble. I couldn't say he was handsome, or not; there wasn't any human frame of reference that applied to a face that looked that … dead.
I could see the trailing leaves of the rose tattoo spilling over around his neck, indigo blue against cold white.
His jacket was zipped open, and he was wearing a black t-shirt underneath. A Grateful Dead t-shirt I remembered well, of a skeleton wearing a crown of roses, barely visible through the gap. He was narrowly built, compact, almost frail. I was right about the boots. They looked like they were made of concrete and painted black. Very Goth.
"Hi," I said in the silence. My voice was a little too high, but he probably wouldn't know that. Probably.
"Sorry."
He inclined his head just a bit, not really a nod, more like he was zeroing in on the target. His smile came back, but it was fifty percent more charming. He didn't show teeth. "My name's Israel," he said. "And you are?"
"J — " I choked it off fast, because I remembered what he'd said to Ed. I don't eat anybody I haven't been properly introduced to. "Just passing through."
He laughed. "Your nametag says different."
Crap. My heart contracted to a painful little walnut when he laughed, because the teeth that showed in his mouth didn't look right. Not right at all. Not vampiric, exactly, in the classic Christopher Lee sense, but …
"Joanne," he nodded, and kept smiling as he purred out my name in that hoarse voice. "Pleased to make your acquaintance." And then he laughed again, lunged forward and formed his pale hands into claws.
And halted a few inches from my face and yelled, "BOO!"
I don't know how I managed it, but I didn't flinch, and I didn't scream. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, he was moving back, clearly disappointed. He shrugged and started to clump away, but then … he turned back, a slight frown on his face.
"Israel," Ed warned him.
"Shhh." Israel took a step toward me. "Something different about you. Right? Ed, don't you feel it?"
I backed up. My shoulders pressed against glass, and the chill seeped through.
"Not like the rest at all," he said, and reached up to slide his sunglasses down his nose, and oh God …
Djinn eyes.
No, my second fast assessment told me; not quite, but close enough. They weren't human eyes, that was for damn sure; they were a dull red, the color of murder in mud. And they flared hot when he looked at me without the intervening Ray Bans.
"Israel!" Ed banged up the counter's service hatch and stepped out. He was holding what looked like a gigantic cattle prod, and as I watched, lightning zipped cold blue at the tip. Ah. It was a cattle prod. For really dangerous cattle. "Leave her alone."
"You don't understand, Ed," the vampire said, and took another step toward me. "She knows. She understands what happened to me. I know she does. And she can fix it!"
He lunged forward, and one gloved hand grabbed my throat. Inhumanly strong. I twisted, got free, and ran backwards away from him, just as Ed stabbed him in the back with his portable lightning rod.
Israel went rigid, grimaced, and went down to the accompaniment of fast snapping sounds. He twisted and twitched for a second, then went limp. I stayed where I was, pressed against a corner display of Charmin Bathroom Tissue, and looked mutely over at Ed.
Ed sighed, and said, "Sorry about that. This is my brother, Israel. Help me get him up, will you?"
###
He had a place to put his brother. Well, it was a refrigerated cooler, actually, the walk-in kind, but it was sturdy and he put a lock on the outside once we'd dragged the limp, cold weight inside and slammed the door shut.
"Won't the cold — " I asked.
"He won't feel it," he interrupted, and scowled as if he hadn't wanted to think about that. "Son of a bitch. I thought he was decently — "
Dead. I could almost hear it, though Ed didn't come anywhere near the actual word. "What happened?"
Ed stalked past me to the doors, looked outside, and flipped the sign to CLOSED, then locked up. He turned off the sign and most of the lights, leaving just the few in the back. "Car accident. Israel flipped his truck out on a farm-to-market road about four months back." For the first time, I sensed a failure of courage in Ed; he looked away from me and folded his arms across his chest, staring fiercely at the rack of Cheetos. "You eat your hot dog already?"
"Never mind the hot dog," I said. "What happened?"
"He was trapped in the wreck. Don't know if you understand what that's like around here — sun heats up metal faster than sticking it in a furnace. He must have cooked inside that tangle …" Ed shook his head, trying to get the image out of his head. Unsuccessfully. "Nobody found him. I started driving around, looking for him. Found the wreck about ten that night."
"He was dead."
Ed blinked and darted me a look. "He look dead to you?"
"Actually … except for the walking-around part, yes."
Ed didn't answer. He looked off into that long distance again, arms still folded. "Yeah, well, I identified him.
Buried him. Next evening, he walks in here filthy and dressed in his suit, the one they put on him at the funeral home. No shoes. No — " He stopped. His mouth shut with such a hard snap I heard enamel click.
I let out a slow, aching breath. "What did you do?"