Chapter 2 Feeling God´s breathing
As Izabella stepped out of her brother’s home, all sorts of thoughts kept swarming inside her mind. Was Brandon still alive? Was all this worth it? Who had the book now and, more importantly, what did they need it for? She didn’t have an answer to any of those questions but it didn’t matter. She was going to find her brother, dead or alive, no matter what. Quickly, she shooed those thoughts away, like a nasty swarm of flies, and headed back to the garage. She pressed the little button, cleverly disguised to resemble just an ordinary nail, and the heavy door rolled up before her, allowing her in.
Brandon’s motorcycle was still there. The thought of having ridden by his side so many times before, brought unexpected warmth around her heart, but that warmth was chilled immediately upon being brought back to reality, and the realization of what just happened. She couldn’t afford to take a trip down memory lane right now. The clock was ticking.
She rummaged through his rucksack, which was lying carefully in the corner of the garage. A few seconds later, she found what she was looking for. She knew Brandon had two phones. One he always had on him, and another one, which was in his backpack, he used for emergencies only. The password to Brandon’s phone was the same as it had always been. Their mother’s birthday. She typed in the bittersweet date and the phone unlocked. She searched for a certain number and dialed it immediately.
“Yeah?” a voice replied, speaking quietly, so she was barely able to hear him.
“Meet me at the Barracuda in a half an hour,” she gave clear and direct orders to the
person on the other end of the line.
“But, wait, I can’t, I’m at the…”
She didn’t allow that someone to finish. She quickly hung up and pocketed Brandon’s phone. She sat on his motorcycle, adjusted her helmet, threw his backpack on her back, and pressed the gas pedal so hard that the whole garage immediately filled up with smoke.
She had to be careful, she knew that. Getting to the Barracuda bar, without getting pulled over by the cops would be a challenge. However, it would be a challenge she was more than willing to take. Being underage and riding a motorcycle like a madman, or madwoman in this case, wouldn’t work in her favor, especially since she was heading to a bar. So, she made sure to go through smaller streets and keep a low profile. About twenty minutes later, she squeezed the brake with a loud screech, in front of an old, worn-down building on the outskirts of the city.
The heavy door was already open. She checked her watch. It wasn’t even noon but she was sure that there were already enough people inside to make it look like it was five o’clock. Like someone once said, it’s always five o’clock somewhere.
She got off the bike and didn’t even bother to make sure it was safe. The first R on the flashing, neon sign of the bar’s name lay hanging above the door, just waiting to drop down and fall on someone’s head. She eyed it suspiciously, before entering a barely lit up place, with two already occupied pool tables right in the middle of the room, and the bar spreading out all along the west wall. Opposite it, there were two booths and a few tables with weak, wobbly looking chairs.
She walked over to the bar slowly, her hand resting on her right pocket. The very thought that her Spyderco Endura 4 pocket knife was safely tucked inside, ready to jump out at the sight of danger, made her step more confidently. Her leather soled sneakers made a squeaking sound against the worn out, hardwood floor. As she passed by a group of fat, heavily tattooed bikers who were playing pool, she could feel the heat of their gazes on the side of her cheek. She kept on going.
Izabella knew that, just by looking at her, no one would guess she was underage. She looked like she was twenty and it came in real handy, especially in a situation such as this one, where she had to go to a bar to meet a source. However, she always underestimated her own beauty and a male need to get her to notice them.
“Hey little lady, you look lost,” she suddenly heard a voice, which was immediately followed by the appearance of a tall, heavy-set man, whose lips were barely visible from his beard.
She looked at him, and realized that he couldn’t be much older than she was. There were no crows feet around his eyes, as he grinned at her, probably in an effort to impress the guys he was with. They were all watching them now, curious to see what would happen. Some were even making cat calls, but she knew better than to get into a bar fight without her brother to back her up. She was sure she could take out the guy who was still standing in front of her but these guys never played fair. They’d all attack her at once and she wasn’t sure she could take them all on, simultaneously. That was always a gamble.
“Actually, I’m here to meet someone,” she said, as politely as she could, even though she had zero patience for guys like this, especially now.
“Well, here I am!” the guy replied, spreading his arms wide, like a proud eagle, an action which made his buddies roar with laughter.
As the guy himself laughed, she could see his fangs glistening ominously. As an experienced vampire slayer, Izabella knew that prominent canine teeth alone were not a sure indicator that someone was a vampire. It could be just weird genetics. The paleness of his skin was no sure sign either but, it was a given, that if this guy was a vampire, odds were the others with him were vampires, too. She didn’t want to mess around with them now. She had a mission of her own and whoever had nothing to do with her brother’s disappearance was safe, at least for the time being.
Izabella took a deep breath and smiled. She was so happy that she told herself probably if God was alive, He could breaths her breath and find the love of the world. Her hand traveled up to her swan-like neck, then extracted her silver chain out of her t-shirt and the shiny, silver cross that hung off of it. Her fingers played with it, as the look on the guy’s face changed from cocky self- confidence to shock, disbelief, and even fear.
“As I said,” she continued, equally politely, eager to sit down at the booth behind this guy, because her source was already waiting, “I’m here to meet someone. I have urgent matters to attend to. Now, please, let me pass, unless you want trouble, because I can sure help you find some.”