Free Hollowed by Kelley York

photo: Me, Ruby, Mom and Dad. An odd little smile passes over his mouth and he places it face-down.
    The closet is stifling, closing in around me. I ' ve never liked confined spaces, and surrounded by boxes and winter coats leaves me feeling like the little breaths I ' m taking just aren ' t enough. Dark-haired guy circles the room, hovering by the closet door. I want to sink down, bury myself and will him away, but I can ' t take my gaze off of him. His dark eyes sweep over the door, pause, swing back and stare right at me.
    No, no. Not at me. He can ' t be looking at me. He can ' t see me. But maybe he can hear me, sense me, and I ' m holding my breath and trying not to shake. Cole said I can control my presence. How much can I will myself into nonexistence for that to work?
    From downstairs the first voice yells up. " Joel! S ' all clear . Y ou find anything? "
    I have a name to put to a face. Joel. Funny, he doesn ' t look like a Joel. But the voice makes Joel turn away with a roll of his eyes and a sigh, mut tering to the empty room. " Yeah . Yell and alert the neighbors... " And silently he goes.
    I listen for whether he went further down the hall or back downstairs, but I can ' t tell for sure. Either way, I can ' t stay in here. I give myself ten seconds to steady my nerves before I slip out of the closet and head for the window. Joel didn ' t shut the door. If he walks by again, he ' ll have a perfect view of my retreating back.
    The window latch is old and it takes longer than I would like to twist it. Like it or not, the window isn ' t going to open quietly or quickly. It squeaks the entire way, making me cringe. But I get it open and sling a leg over the window ledge, leaning out, looking down. It ' s a straight drop to the back porch pavement. Here ' s hoping my body is sturdy enough to handle it.
    I start to haul my other leg over the pane.
    Someone grabs me by the hair. Yanks me back sharply into the room , twisting me around before I know what ' s happening.
    Joel ' s face is inches from my own.
    My attacker. The one who killed me. The one who turned me.
    I ' m dragged kicking and screaming back into the room. Joel ' s hand covers my mouth and I sink my teeth into the meat of his palm. Hard . Blood hits my tongue, dribbles down my chin. He jerks away with a pained snarl. Too bad he has ahold of my hair, so I don ' t get far. Any minute now, his friend is going to join him and I ' ll have zero chance of getting away.
    I jab my elbow back into the vampire ' s stomach. He doubles over for a fraction of a second, long enough for me to twist around and slam the heel of my hand into his nose. Superficial damage, not going to last long on someone that heals so quick, but like hell if I ' ll go down without a fight.
    He rears his head, injured hand covering injured face, groaning. His fingers twist in my hair and he shoves me away with enough force that my feet leave the floor. My back connects with the corner of Mom ' s desk. The throb shudders straight up my spine, makes me stagger when I straighten, but I have to get out of here. The window ' s right there, if I can just —
    Joel cracks his nose back into place. The teeth marks on his hand are already knitting together, and I ' ve succeeded in severely pissing him off. He stalks forward. Two steps, three, just as I ' m getting my leg over the window sill. He reaches for me, and I know I ' m not going to make it.
    There ' s a thunder of footsteps tearing down the hall, into the room, and Algonquin is on him. There ' s a flash of bone-white teeth before they sink into the back of Joel ' s neck, paws the size of my hands slamming him to the ground. Joel screams, helpless underneath two hundred pounds of solid muscle while Algonquin shakes him back and forth like a squeaky toy .
    Enter Artie. Judging by the bloody mess he is, it ' s safe to say Algonquin already got to him. I have both legs over the window sill, ready to jump.
    But I can ' t yet.
    Artie wraps his thick