Page 2 of Little Fangs

“I don’t know what to do,” I said, sucking in a deep breath to hold in the tears. “I’ve got . . .” I held up the bracelets and stopped talking altogether. It was useless. But at least I’d survive the day, if I lived that long at all. They told me to leave town; they told me they never wanted to see my face again.

The later it got, the more comfortable Misty became with me, climbing off the shed, walking around me, sniffing and rubbing herself on my legs. Her owner came out again, calling for her, and then the cabin went dark.

She purred against me, comforting.

Until the rain came.

Misty jumped around the shed, leading me. She showed me how to get in behind the logs, somewhere I could finally sit and be away from anyone if they came looking. I don’t think she knew just how much she was helping me. We both sat in there, her large, warm, fluffy body on me, holding me down like a blanket as I ran my fingers across her pretty fur, almost like I did my stuffies before I went to sleep.

His voice sounded, almost in front of me, calling out to his cat.

I stayed still, clinging to the gold bracelets wrapped around my wrist, as early light spilled across the logs outside, as if teasing me with the idea that the bracelets wouldn’t work.

Misty didn’t move other than to look at me from where she was lying on my lap. I couldn’t speak or tell her to go; I didn’t want her to give me up. I couldn’t handle a human finding me, least of all someone who looked like he could tear through me or snap me like a twig.

“Misty, come on now,” he called out. “You know I don’t like it when you stay out here all night.”

And from the look of the light, she had. I held my breath, trying my best not to make a sound.

A mouse whipped across my feet, catching Misty’s eye, and she chased after it, leaving the log shed on the hunt.

It came so easy to her, hunting, to the point that it made my stomach knot.

“There you are,” he called out again. “Come on, get inside. And leave that.”

Peering from between the stacked logs, I could see she’d caught the mouse and was holding it as it flopped out of her mouth. She glanced at me, then dropped the mouse on the ground before following her owner back into the house.

My belly growled, and I was desperate enough.

I snuck out from behind the log shed, slowly walking in a squat. I took the dead mouse and held it above my mouth to let the blood drip onto my tongue. It was a familiar taste, my brothers’ trick, helping regenerate my slow breaths and aching lungs a little faster.

The spotlight flashed from the porch, and I was caught in its grasp.

The door of the cabin opened with a whoosh. Through the harsh light, I saw the large burly man’s shadow, as he pumped the shotgun with a click. “Who are you?” he asked. “And what are you doing here?”

Shivering, I dropped the mouse, and with what energy I’d just regained, I used it all to spring back to my hidey hole in the log shed. I panted for breath, deep and steady. This was a nightmare. He was going to kill me, and I didn’t have the energy to fight back.

“This fucking town,” he grumbled. “Hey.”

His voice grew closer and into more intense growls.

And then Misty’s head popped around the back of the log shed as I sat, pressed against the wall, my knees hugged to my chest, doing my best not to make a sound. She rubbed herself against me.

“Are you in there?” he asked.

I tried to shoo Misty away, but she clung to me more closely.

“Listen, I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said. “Just come out of there.”

I was taught never to trust or believe in a human, and he was a human. They were evil by choice, Ludmila would say. They choose to kill people, killing is a choice, but taking blood, a small sip of it, that’s a requirement for us to live. That doesn’t make us evil, but killing someone by choice does. And that’s why she left us, because my brothers were killers. I’d never taken a human life, and the idea of it scared me.

“I can take you back to Mrs. Darling’s place,” he said. “I’m assuming you’re one of them.”

My jaw trembled. The Darling House was a place where aged-out foster kids found themselves if they were plagued with magic and darkness. I’d never voluntarily go there. And I didn’t want him to take me there either.

“Listen, I’m going to pull away the wood, but you’ll have to clean it up if I do,” he said. “There’s no way I’m going to fit through that space.”

I glanced at Misty, debating whether I trusted him.