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I left the Loyola campus, still in disbelief that I’d even shown up for finals today, convinced I most likely flunked every single one. How was I supposed to concentrate after what had happened last night? As I rode the bus, I stared at the tree-lined streets, wondering where Colton was. I replayed the scene over and over in my head. We were talking, then I saw a gloved hand cover his mouth, then the phone fell. After that, all I could see was the top of the buildings and a clear April sky. I bit back a sob. Maybe he got away but his phone was broken? I’d called the police. They’d taken my information, but I hadn’t heard anything since. I figured they’d go talk to Colton’s mom and sister, but so far, I hadn’t been able to get ahold of either one. Which was why I was taking an alternate bus route to their house. I couldn’t go on like this.
I loved Colton, and he loved me. We’d only been dating for less than a year, but we had plans. Big plans. He was bartending until he could afford to go to HVAC school and learn to fix and install heating and cooling systems. I was at the university studying to become an elementary school teacher. We were both only twenty-three, but were solid in what we wanted for the future. Careers, a family, a house. All here in New Orleans. We were born and raised here, our families were here, and we loved it. We wanted to bring our children up here.
I pulled the cord to stop the street car and hopped off, adjusting my backpack. I quietly walked the two blocks to Colton’s mom’s house. After this, I was heading to his apartment to see if he was there.
Nervously tapping my hand against my thigh, I waited for someone to answer the door. I rang the bell again, and then Mrs. James opened it slowly, looking tired. She worked nights as a nurse, so I felt bad, but I needed answers.
“Ava…”
“Please, Mrs. James. Where’s Colton?”
She shook her head and opened the door wider to let me in. “I don’t… I don’t know. The police came by the hospital to ask me questions. Weren’t you on the phone with him last night?” she asked, yawning.
I set my heavy backpack down and shoved my hands in the pocket of my long skirt. “Yes, I was. We were video chatting and someone put their hand around his mouth, and then he dropped the phone.”
“Did he yell or anything?” she asked.
“I didn’t hear anything. What did the police say?” I asked.
“Just that they found his phone where you reported you last spoke. They went to his apartment, but Joey said he didn’t know anything. Just that he expected Colt home any minute.” She went into the kitchen and picked up a phone, where it had been charging on the counter. She handed it to me. “The police gave me his phone. Joey must have told them where I worked so they could interview me.”
“There’s nothing on it, just the call log. The case is cracked but it still works.”
I gave it back to her. “Keep it charged in case he tries to call. I’m so worried,” I sobbed.
She hugged me. “We’ll find him.”
“Police said they checked every building and alley. He’s nowhere,” I cried into her shirt.
“I know, honey,” she said, soothing me, but I also heard her crying.
I left her house and took the street car to the Quarter, walking around where we last spoke, also checking every alley and business that was open. Nobody had seen him. There was no sign of him. It was like he had disappeared into thin air.
After I got home, my mom tried to soothe me, but I was inconsolable. And then, as days and then weeks passed, I knew I had lost him forever. I would never see his smiling face or feel his gentle kisses. I would never feel him loving me late into the night, worshipping my body while he told me loved me. We’d never have that house or that wedding or those children… I was truly wrecked.
CHAPTER THREE
COLTON
Ten years later
My Harley rumbled to a stop in front of my mom’s old house. I killed the engine and stared at the hundred-year-old two-story house I grew up in. I knew my mom was no longer living there because she was no longer alive. The second I received news she’d drowned in a boating accident, I rushed back to New Orleans, knowing I’d really have no one here who would recognize me. My sister, Kristy, married a Marine five years ago and was living somewhere in California. I didn’t really keep track of my little sister, I was just glad she was safe and living a normal life. After all, I’d been presumed dead five years after my disappearance so nobody would be looking for me.
Not to mention—I was fairly unrecognizable. Gone was the baby face, short cropped hair, and devil-may-care attitude, replaced by a full beard, hair much longer, and a definite devil-does-care attitude.
A warm night wind blew as I stared at the house. The lights were on, and I saw a lady and a couple of kids pass by the windows until they settled in and turned on the television with a bowl of some human food they shared between them, laughing at whatever was on the TV.
With a sigh, and glad my memory was still sharp as ever, I drove to Ava’s house, also aware she wasn’t there—if her parents even still lived there. Like I said, I was unrecognizable. While I hadn’t kept close tabs on my sister after that fateful night of my turning, I did keep tabs on Ava. The love of my life. Unfortunately, about four years ago, she disappeared from New Orleans and I have been unable to locate her since. She must have changed her name because I’d hired no less than five private investigators who told me they could not locate her anywhere. Even facial recognition software of millions of driver’s licenses didn’t bring up a match. She had simply vanished, and I wondered if being back here in New Orleans would open up fresh wounds when it came to her.
I didn’t think so. After all, the tear in my heart at having to leave Ava all those years ago had never healed, so no use in wondering if the wounds would open back up.
My bike came to a stop in front of her house and the cold, barely beating organ in my chest momentarily stopped. Her house looked the same, not a thing had changed, except it looked like it had a new roof and paint. I wondered if her parents also thought she was missing, or if she’d just taken off somewhere and remained in touch with them. Well, if she did, none of the phone numbers from her parents’ cell phone logs matched an Ava or even anyone her age or description. It had all been dead ends.
Deciding I’d had enough of dwelling on the past, I took off down the street and headed for the warehouse district where I was about to meet a group of guys who’d been asking me to join them for years.
After the night I was turned, I quickly learned a local vampire clan had lost a lot of their numbers after a vicious fight with a pack of werewolves. They were instructed to literally kidnap and turn young men to join their ranks. They did zero checks on people. Just snatched them off the street like they did me, giving us no choice in the matter, hardly explaining anything that was going on. I lived with them for only about four weeks until I managed to escape, having seen enough of the physical abuse the clan leader, Orvis, would dole out to every male and female clan member.
I also couldn’t live in a city where Ava was, her no doubt wondering where I was and not being able to see her. It was literal torture, so I cleaned out my bank account and left with the clothes on my back, taking off to Washington state, where I worked as much as I could at night and bought a small, used RV I lived in for a few years.
