me scared. What’s happened to Parkman? What’s my next step? Where do we go from here?”
Nothing.
Her arm didn’t go numb. She received no response.
Maybe someone was already bugging the room?
She had to get to the hostel. There she was sure Vivian would talk to her.
Sarah grabbed her gun, slid it into the back of her jeans and headed for the door. She decided to leave everything behind as Parkman had said the room was paid for another night.
She eased the door open slowly. No one was in the hallway. She stepped out and walked past the elevators to the stairwell.
Sarah got downstairs and out the side door without trouble. She skipped around the building and started for the hostel. As often as she could she would stop and look in the windows of stores looking for a follower in the reflection. After all she had learned, and the skills she had acquired over the last five years, she could tell no one was following her. If anyone was, then they were either the best in the business or they had bugged her person somehow.
Her muscles felt better. Everything was acting normal again and her head had cleared. She kept walking as her stomach growled.
When was the last time I ate anything?
She couldn’t recall. She stopped at a street vendor and bought a small container of french fries and a Coke for energy. She ate them dry as she didn’t want any mayonnaise.
The fifteen minutes it took to order the fries and eat them gave her another chance to watch everyone passing by. No one appeared interested in her whatsoever.
Yet she still felt watched.
Twenty minutes later she walked into her rented room at the hostel and lay out on the bed. In the night table beside the bed she found a pen and paper. Sarah pulled them out and placed them by her hand.
“Come on Vivian. Give me something.”
It was around eight in the evening. As far as she could tell, no one knew where she was or where she would turn up next. This was a great opportunity for Vivian to work her magic.
As if on cue her hand grew numb.
Sarah closed her eyes and rested, waiting to wake and have Vivian tell her exactly what to do.
The sun was lower when she woke. She could tell by the amount of light in her room.
Vivian, she thought.
Sarah sat up fast and grabbed the piece of paper. It was riddled with her handwriting this time. The message was scrolled across two full pages.
Nothing about Parkman. Most of the note was about the immigration officer that worked with Imre. She’d never forget his knowing smile. Now she knew what he knew and who he was. Vivian’s note went on to say that the immigration officer was the one who ordered her jailed. He was the smug bastard who thought he had the upper hand.
According to Vivian he was also the one who facilitated Armond’s entry into Hungary without a problem. Vivian explained how much of a crook the immigration officer was and how to deal with him if she was going to get to Armond.
The note also went into detail about one of the immigration officer’s neighbors. Sarah had to read that part twice.
The bastard. The neighbor should die for that too, she thought. In a few hours I’ll make sure both of these men pay a dear price for what they’ve done.
At the bottom of the second page the note talked about a final date for Sarah.
The crypt. Eight days left. I’m sorry but there’s nothing we can do to avoid it. You only have eight days left.
It has to do with vampires.
What the hell was that? Is this some kind of fiction story now? Her life wasn’t a book or a movie. This was real. Vampires weren’t.
The “eight days” thing scared her. Was Vivian telling her that she was going to die?
Vivian had been right all along. She also said that dealing with the immigration officer would get her one step closer to Armond. If that was the case, then she would get her vengeance and if there
Nothing.
Her arm didn’t go numb. She received no response.
Maybe someone was already bugging the room?
She had to get to the hostel. There she was sure Vivian would talk to her.
Sarah grabbed her gun, slid it into the back of her jeans and headed for the door. She decided to leave everything behind as Parkman had said the room was paid for another night.
She eased the door open slowly. No one was in the hallway. She stepped out and walked past the elevators to the stairwell.
Sarah got downstairs and out the side door without trouble. She skipped around the building and started for the hostel. As often as she could she would stop and look in the windows of stores looking for a follower in the reflection. After all she had learned, and the skills she had acquired over the last five years, she could tell no one was following her. If anyone was, then they were either the best in the business or they had bugged her person somehow.
Her muscles felt better. Everything was acting normal again and her head had cleared. She kept walking as her stomach growled.
When was the last time I ate anything?
She couldn’t recall. She stopped at a street vendor and bought a small container of french fries and a Coke for energy. She ate them dry as she didn’t want any mayonnaise.
The fifteen minutes it took to order the fries and eat them gave her another chance to watch everyone passing by. No one appeared interested in her whatsoever.
Yet she still felt watched.
Twenty minutes later she walked into her rented room at the hostel and lay out on the bed. In the night table beside the bed she found a pen and paper. Sarah pulled them out and placed them by her hand.
“Come on Vivian. Give me something.”
It was around eight in the evening. As far as she could tell, no one knew where she was or where she would turn up next. This was a great opportunity for Vivian to work her magic.
As if on cue her hand grew numb.
Sarah closed her eyes and rested, waiting to wake and have Vivian tell her exactly what to do.
The sun was lower when she woke. She could tell by the amount of light in her room.
Vivian, she thought.
Sarah sat up fast and grabbed the piece of paper. It was riddled with her handwriting this time. The message was scrolled across two full pages.
Nothing about Parkman. Most of the note was about the immigration officer that worked with Imre. She’d never forget his knowing smile. Now she knew what he knew and who he was. Vivian’s note went on to say that the immigration officer was the one who ordered her jailed. He was the smug bastard who thought he had the upper hand.
According to Vivian he was also the one who facilitated Armond’s entry into Hungary without a problem. Vivian explained how much of a crook the immigration officer was and how to deal with him if she was going to get to Armond.
The note also went into detail about one of the immigration officer’s neighbors. Sarah had to read that part twice.
The bastard. The neighbor should die for that too, she thought. In a few hours I’ll make sure both of these men pay a dear price for what they’ve done.
At the bottom of the second page the note talked about a final date for Sarah.
The crypt. Eight days left. I’m sorry but there’s nothing we can do to avoid it. You only have eight days left.
It has to do with vampires.
What the hell was that? Is this some kind of fiction story now? Her life wasn’t a book or a movie. This was real. Vampires weren’t.
The “eight days” thing scared her. Was Vivian telling her that she was going to die?
Vivian had been right all along. She also said that dealing with the immigration officer would get her one step closer to Armond. If that was the case, then she would get her vengeance and if there
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