Samson's Lovely Mortal
Page 96
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But she couldn’t make an important decision like that, a decision that meant being with a vampire forever, while she was in his arms, when her brain was utter mush.
It was pure luck that Amaury had interrupted them, and she took it as a sign that she had to escape. It was now or never. She finally had to think with her head and squash the little voice coming from her heart—the voice which kept on insisting that she was making a big mistake.
Delilah knew she couldn’t make it to the airport for the last flight out, since it was too late already, but she would hide in a small hotel, somewhere where he wouldn’t find her. She’d give a wrong name, pay cash. And tomorrow morning, she’d be on the first flight to New York. She was pretty confident that she’d considered every precaution she had to take, because if anything, Samson was resourceful and would try anything to find her.
Delilah had forgotten about the parade. The crowds made it difficult for her to get through the streets, but there’d been no taxi. She had to make it down toward Union Square where she hoped she had a better chance of finding transportation.
Her suitcase felt heavier and heavier as she rolled it behind her. She had taken everything that was hers, not wanting to give herself an excuse to go back. She was weak enough in her resolve as is.
The music and the noise of the crowd drowned out some of her thoughts as she tried to push her way through the sidewalk. Every few seconds she got bumped by somebody or felt another foot on hers. Her toes were already bleeding, she was sure.
Under other circumstances she might have enjoyed the colorful parade, sampled some of the exotic foods, and even bought a trinket or two, but a sightseeing tour of San Francisco was the last thing on her mind.
Different languages whirled past her ears as she inched forward through the crowd. Young and old faces passed her, men and women, children and seniors, Caucasians and Asians. It took more than fifteen minutes just to advance one block.
Delilah was relieved when she finally made it through the maddening crowd and found herself in a quieter alley. She would be able to cut through the worst of the crowd from here and find her way to Union Square down the hill.
The sound of the wheels of her suitcase on the cobblestone street echoed through the alley. In the background the music mixed with it and then the sound of cars and motorbikes.
Another faint sound made her spin around, but she saw nothing. She was still too jumpy. It would settle, soon. Her imagination was just playing tricks on her.
Delilah turned into the next street which was wider than the alley she’d come from. To the left was a dead end, so she turned right. The street was lined with apartment houses three stories high, and their entrances were blocked with iron gates, their piercing spikes accusingly stretched toward heaven. She walked along the sidewalk and lost herself in her thoughts again.
She had to convince herself that she was doing the right thing by leaving him.
Too late Delilah heard the sound behind her, the engine of a motorcycle. She twisted her head and saw it heading straight for her. She was unable to make out the dark figure riding it.
Her feet picked up speed, and instinctively she let go of her suitcase. She ran, but the motorcycle gained on her, the sound of its engine growing louder as it approached. Louder and more menacing with every second. She could never outrun it. Frantically she looked to both sides to find a hiding place where the motorcycle couldn’t follow her.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a movement, but it was too quick for her to register what it was.
“Delilah!”
The bellow echoed through the street and bounced off the buildings. A bellow of somebody clearly horrified. Before she could turn, she felt arms push her out of the way, slamming her onto the asphalt. She fell hard. The impact made her ribs hurt, and she groaned loudly.
The lights of the motorcycle blinded her for a second as she whipped her head around, just in time to see the bike hit the person who’d pushed her out of the way. She saw the figure flung into the air as if it were a ragdoll, then crash down. The downward fall was broken by the spikes of the iron gate.
The body hung there, impaled.
The motorcycle skidded, a figure tumbling to the ground, rolling, then getting up, obviously uninjured. The engine suddenly cut out, and it was quiet.
Delilah’s side hurt as she tried to move, but she had to. The biker was heading for her after briefly glancing at the figure impaled on the gate.
Delilah stumbled to her feet. It was too dark for her to make out who the person on the gate was, but she knew nevertheless. She’d heard him scream her name in a voice that was all too familiar. He had pushed her out of the way and saved her life, if only for a few minutes.
It was pure luck that Amaury had interrupted them, and she took it as a sign that she had to escape. It was now or never. She finally had to think with her head and squash the little voice coming from her heart—the voice which kept on insisting that she was making a big mistake.
Delilah knew she couldn’t make it to the airport for the last flight out, since it was too late already, but she would hide in a small hotel, somewhere where he wouldn’t find her. She’d give a wrong name, pay cash. And tomorrow morning, she’d be on the first flight to New York. She was pretty confident that she’d considered every precaution she had to take, because if anything, Samson was resourceful and would try anything to find her.
Delilah had forgotten about the parade. The crowds made it difficult for her to get through the streets, but there’d been no taxi. She had to make it down toward Union Square where she hoped she had a better chance of finding transportation.
Her suitcase felt heavier and heavier as she rolled it behind her. She had taken everything that was hers, not wanting to give herself an excuse to go back. She was weak enough in her resolve as is.
The music and the noise of the crowd drowned out some of her thoughts as she tried to push her way through the sidewalk. Every few seconds she got bumped by somebody or felt another foot on hers. Her toes were already bleeding, she was sure.
Under other circumstances she might have enjoyed the colorful parade, sampled some of the exotic foods, and even bought a trinket or two, but a sightseeing tour of San Francisco was the last thing on her mind.
Different languages whirled past her ears as she inched forward through the crowd. Young and old faces passed her, men and women, children and seniors, Caucasians and Asians. It took more than fifteen minutes just to advance one block.
Delilah was relieved when she finally made it through the maddening crowd and found herself in a quieter alley. She would be able to cut through the worst of the crowd from here and find her way to Union Square down the hill.
The sound of the wheels of her suitcase on the cobblestone street echoed through the alley. In the background the music mixed with it and then the sound of cars and motorbikes.
Another faint sound made her spin around, but she saw nothing. She was still too jumpy. It would settle, soon. Her imagination was just playing tricks on her.
Delilah turned into the next street which was wider than the alley she’d come from. To the left was a dead end, so she turned right. The street was lined with apartment houses three stories high, and their entrances were blocked with iron gates, their piercing spikes accusingly stretched toward heaven. She walked along the sidewalk and lost herself in her thoughts again.
She had to convince herself that she was doing the right thing by leaving him.
Too late Delilah heard the sound behind her, the engine of a motorcycle. She twisted her head and saw it heading straight for her. She was unable to make out the dark figure riding it.
Her feet picked up speed, and instinctively she let go of her suitcase. She ran, but the motorcycle gained on her, the sound of its engine growing louder as it approached. Louder and more menacing with every second. She could never outrun it. Frantically she looked to both sides to find a hiding place where the motorcycle couldn’t follow her.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a movement, but it was too quick for her to register what it was.
“Delilah!”
The bellow echoed through the street and bounced off the buildings. A bellow of somebody clearly horrified. Before she could turn, she felt arms push her out of the way, slamming her onto the asphalt. She fell hard. The impact made her ribs hurt, and she groaned loudly.
The lights of the motorcycle blinded her for a second as she whipped her head around, just in time to see the bike hit the person who’d pushed her out of the way. She saw the figure flung into the air as if it were a ragdoll, then crash down. The downward fall was broken by the spikes of the iron gate.
The body hung there, impaled.
The motorcycle skidded, a figure tumbling to the ground, rolling, then getting up, obviously uninjured. The engine suddenly cut out, and it was quiet.
Delilah’s side hurt as she tried to move, but she had to. The biker was heading for her after briefly glancing at the figure impaled on the gate.
Delilah stumbled to her feet. It was too dark for her to make out who the person on the gate was, but she knew nevertheless. She’d heard him scream her name in a voice that was all too familiar. He had pushed her out of the way and saved her life, if only for a few minutes.
