Camila woke with the sun.

Instantly, she missed her curtains. She missed her room, with her private bathroom and her shower—she had gone so long without deodorant that she was afraid to lift her arms—and she missed her toothbrush. Her mouth tasted like roadkill peeled fresh off the pavement.

Even so, she felt refreshed. She couldn't really remember her dream last night, but it had left her with a sense of optimism.

"Sleep well?" Declan sat on a fallen tree branch, resting his chin in his palm. He was unshaven, black stubble outlining his jawline.

"Yeah, actually." She frowned. "Have you been watching me sleep?"

"Do you see anything better for me to do?"

"That's kind of creepy."

"Ever seen Twilight? It's charming and romantic. Worked out for Edward."

Camila stumbled to her feet. "It's still creepy." She was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt that reads, in sparkly pink letters: make love, not war. Something crinkled in her pocket. "Wait. You've seen Twilight?"

She reached into her pocket. Her fingers brushed against a wrinkled scrap of paper. An image flashed through her mind: Alex limping towards her, covered in dried blood, shaking her by the shoulders. He's dangerous, she remembered him saying.

"You're just assuming I went straight for the movie?"

Camila removed her hand from her pocket, letting the scrap of paper be. It was probably nothing, but maybe it was safer to look later.

"The important thing is you know what Twilight is." A laugh bubbled up in Camila's throat. "Oh my Goddess. Is this what the Vindicators do when they're not robbing and killing?"

Declan tossed her a protein bar. "Oh yeah. We watch the whole saga every Saturday. Sunday's are the Notebook, Monday's are Sleepless in Sea-"

"You're kidding, right?"

"Yeah. I'm kidding." Declan looked happier than she's ever seen him. His eyes danced, the corners crinkling into smile lines. The sunlight made him look younger somehow, more innocent. His scars were less visible, his golden skin almost glowing. "I had a little sister. She was really into the whole Twilight thing."

Camila glanced up. He'd spoken in past tense. She wondered what kind of person his sister had been, what kind of woman she would've grown up to be.

"What happened to her?"

"She died. It was a long time ago." Declan shrugged a shoulder and crossed over to her, sitting down on a rock by her sleeping bag. "You have any siblings?"

"An older brother. He's backpacking across Europe. I haven't spoken to him in...months, I guess. It's been a while." It occurred to Camila that her brother has no idea what happened to their parents. She felt a flash of jealousy for his ignorance.

"We should probably get moving." Declan knelt, rolled her sleeping bag into a tight spiral, and places it in the back of the truck. Camila finished her protein bar. "I want to get to Manaus by nightfall."

The moment Declan started the engine, Camila realized the truck was on its last legs.

On every uphill, the engine sputtered weakly as the wheels scraped against the gravel road. About an hour into the drive, it shut off entirely, sending the car skidding towards a sharp drop off. The brakes kicked in just in time and the engine recovered after a terrifying three seconds.

"Why would you ever pay for this?" Camila yelled, when the car finally lurched to a stop.

"It was cheap and it was available."

The truck's radio was also broken, which was fine, because apparently Declan didn't listen to music when he drove.

"That's insane," Camila said when he told her. "How do you stay focused?"

"Sheer strength of willpower. The real question is how do you stay focused? All those loud noises..."

"Um, I listen to classical music. Scientific studies show it helps you focus more."

Declan looked over at her. "You listen to classical?"

"Hey! Eyes on the road!"

"That is so... I don't even know. Are you sure you're a teenager?"

"It's classy."

"Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

Despite herself, Camila laughed.

The truck was awful. But it was a beautiful day, her headache was a thing of the past, and she was smiling more than she had in weeks.

A fallen tree, several feet in diameter lay sprawled across the dirt road. The truck rolled to an unsteady stop. 

"Stay in the car." Declan reached behind his seat, grabbing an axe and a small bag. "I'm going to move the tree."

"You just carry that with you everywhere, huh?"

He smiled. "Gotta be prepared."

The car door slammed shut behind him. 

It was quiet. They were still traveling on dirt roads, several hours out from Manaus, the closest city. Camila sighed and leaned back in her seat. Maybe she should get out and help Declan.

A dull thud broke the silence.

The car shook slightly, just enough to make Camila slide forward in her seat.

"Declan?" She opened the car door. She took one of her daggers with her, the blade nearly a foot long. Although it was probably nothing, she felt better with a weapon on hand.

The tree was still there, albeit with a couple of chunks taken out of it. Declan was nowhere to be found.

"Declan, if you're messing with me, it's not funny." Camila tightened her grip around the dagger.

She heard a faint snapping noise, like a twig breaking.

Someone was standing in front of her.

Camila caught a glimpse of coal-black eyes, pale skin, and a reed-thin body. She raised her dagger.

The man grabbed her hair. His movements were almost too quick to see. 

Before she could move, her cheekbone slammed into the metal roof of the pick up truck. A sharp crack reverberated through her skull. Liquid—sharp and metallic—flooded her mouth and she spat blood onto dirty white tennis shoes she didn't own. 

Black spots danced across her vision.

Camila braced herself against the car. Her muscles tensed. Adrenaline gushed through her veins, her heart pounding.

Dirt-streaked fingers grabbed at her hair. In a sudden blur of movement, he slammed her head against the car again.

Her scalp burned, but Camila barely noticed. She took a deep breath. When she moved, every action was fluid. Controlled.

She jammed her elbow straight into his diaphragm.

He buckled forwards, the air whooshing from his lungs. Camila turned sideways, raising her right foot.

Something sharp sliced across her back.

 Camila brought her foot down on the outside of the man's knee. A faint popping noise split through the air and the leg collapsed beneath him, bending inwards.

He fell to the ground.

Pain exploded across her upper back. Camila gasped. She tried to focus. Her vision blurred.

Focus. He could know something.

She grabbed the man by his shirt, pressing her against the car. "Who are you? What have you done to Declan?"

The man's eyes—even his irises are an unnatural black, the color bleeding into the whites of his eye—were frantic, darting around almost comically. He licked his lips and Camila caught sight of needle-like fangs. "Please. You have to help us. We need- you have to help us."

There was a crash. Another figure hurtled from the rainforest, landing unevenly in the dirt. He stayed on the ground, breathing faintly. His right arm stretched outwards at an unnatural angle.

The vampire looked up at her. "Please," he whimpered. "Your highness. You have to help us."

"How?" Camila shook him. His head jerked forwards and backwards like a bobblehead doll. "What do you want?"

"We need-" His eyes widened. He was looking at something, someone behind her. The vampire scrambled backwards, kicking up plumes of dust as he tried to get away. "Please. Don't kill me."

Camila looked back, ready for another fight.

But it was just Declan, his hair a bit messier than before. Camila spared him a quick glance and turned back to the vampire.

"Tell me what you want." She knelt, drawing the man's gaze towards her.

"We need- We need the he-"

A sharp bang sliced through the air, rattling Camila's eardrums.

Like a marionette with its strings cut, the vampire slumped forward. His head fell listlessly to his chest. Blood dripped from a dark, gaping hole in the center of his ear.

There was another gunshot. The other man—the one barely breathing—relaxed into the ground, a pool of blood forming around his head.

Camila stumbled backwards, slipping, falling, the rocky ground cutting deeper into the wound on her middle back. The vampire was still looking at her, his black eyes glassy.

She had seen a dead body before—one of her great aunts had an open casket funeral and there was the vampire her father captured years ago—but she'd never been quite so close to one. Something trickled down her forehead.

She reached up. Her fingers come away slick and bloody.

It was the man's blood. She was covered in the dead man's blood. Her fingers trembled. She tried to breathe-

She looked at Declan. Really looked, this time.

He stood still, his eyes fixed on her. There was a gun in one hand, a thin trail of smoke snaking out of the barrel. In his other hand was the axe. Drops of scarlet blood dripped on the lush green grass.

He wasn't even breathing hard.

Declan took a step towards her.

Camila knew Declan was keeping something from her, something the vampire was going to tell her. She knew that despite his little sister and his weird driving quirks, he was still a cold blooded killer.

Camila pulled herself to her feet and ran. 

Thank you for reading!

-Harley