by D.J. Bodden
CHAPTER 18
Jonas stretched out on the ruined mattress and stared at the ceiling, the upper half of his body propped up on three pillows. If he tried to lay flat, the blood in his lungs ran into his throat and gave him a choking sensation. Which was weird, considering he hadn’t taken a breath in the past half-hour.
He’d kissed Eve, and his lips still tingled from the experience. She’d sucked the blood off his lower lip, and he’d felt a flood of thoughts and memories building on both sides. But then she’d pulled back, breathing hard, and left. He knew she needed to go; Phillip could only disrupt Fangston’s agents for so long, and Jonas wanted her to be safe. He wanted it more than anything.
That felt different. He’d wanted a lot of things in the past year – to be strong for his mother, to be worthy in Amelia and her dad’s eyes, to be diligent for his teachers, to not be a burden… but Eve was just for him. He felt a little selfish, but at the same time, more in tune with himself.
His mind was a jumble of memories, both his and hers. Events he’d lived, but through her eyes, under the lens of her thoughts. Portions of her life gave context to his own experiences, from the clumsiness of his beginnings – how quickly he was adapting to being a vampire – compared to Eve’s more difficult, yearlong adjustment. He felt Eve’s anger at the vampire who’d sired her, and the longing she had for the parents and sister she’d left behind. They weren’t his emotions, but he felt them anyway. Part of him fought it at first, worried he might lose touch with his own identity. But then he relaxed as memories – growing up in the suburbs of a city he’d never visited, peals of laughter he’d never heard, and a horizon unbroken by skyscrapers – washed over him.
I don’t think it’s going to work out with Amelia, he thought, without a trace of guilt. He fell asleep.
♟
He dreamt of his parents.
He was eight years old, building a castle with a set of interlocking plastic bricks. It wasn’t as big as the one in his head, the barrier he and Sam had built, but his parents watched with interest as he placed each brick with precision and care.
“Do you think he’s starting already?”
“No, my love. I think he’s just a happy child, building castles because that’s what little boys do,” his father answered.
His parents looked at each other intently, and his mother sighed, resting her head on his dad’s shoulder. I understand it now, Jonas thought, They were exchanging thoughts, like me and Eve. Only they’d been doing it for centuries. He couldn’t imagine how it must have felt for his mother to wake up one day and realize half of her was gone.
“You need to go back, son,” his father said.
Jonas looked up from the living room carpet, one of the longer, gray bricks in his hand. “Are you talking to me?”
His mother giggled. He hadn’t heard her giggle in a long time. “Of course he is, Jonas.”
“You need to go back, hunt the thing that scares you,” Victor said.
“I can’t fight a demon,” Jonas said, and turned back to his brick castle. He knew just where the long piece would fit.
“There are going to be a lot of my kind watching you, to see if you’re ‘normal,’” Phillip said, suddenly appearing at the window, and looking out.
“I’m your mother, Jonas,” Alice said.
“So what? You left. Am I supposed to just go and get the snot kicked out of me again?”
“We have no idea what abilities you’ll develop,” his mother said.
“You’re a vampire, not a werewolf, a golem, or one of the other physical types,” Viviane chimed in. She and Eve had appeared in the kitchen and were looking through the cupboards, examining the various food items in curiosity.
“Approach everything like it’s the first time and you’ll live much longer,” Jared said, rapping his knuckles sharply on the dining room table.
♟
Jonas woke up, squinting against the bright sunlight that streamed through his bedroom window. Whoever’d trashed his apartment had ripped down the curtains as well. It seemed petty and spiteful in light of everything else they’d done to him. Someone was knocking on his front door.
“Hello? Sir, Ma’am, it’s the police. A neighbor reported a disturbance. Your door is open. We’re coming in.”
Jonas looked down at the blood on his shirt. He stripped it off and rolled out of bed in one fluid motion, walking out into the hallway. Two policemen, one young and one middle aged, were in the living room with their weapons drawn.
“Freeze!” the older cop yelled. His gun was still pointed at the floor, but his shoulders were tense.
Jonas remembered what the apartment was supposed to look like, and pushed the image into the two police officers’ minds. “Is there something wrong, officers?” he said, with a wave of his hand. These aren’t the droids you’re looking for, Jonas thought, making a serious effort not to laugh.
The two cops’ eyes widened as they looked around the newly repaired room. Tables, chairs, and couch all intact, dishes back in the cupboard, food back in the fridge, and black curtains hanging from brass rods across the windows. “We uh… are your parents around, kid?”
Jonas did his best to look confused. “They’re sitting in the living room, officer. Didn’t you see them when you came in?”
Victor and Alice Black looked up at the two cops from the couch. The cops looked at each other. They were fighting Jonas’ suggestion - something about the way their minds worked, or maybe their training, knew something was wrong. The one closest to Jonas started to tighten his grip on his pistol.
“Did Mrs. Eidelmeyer call you? The crazy old lady who lives down the hallway?”
“Uh… we’re not sure, kid. Dispatch just said—”
Jonas rolled his eyes. “She always does this. She did the same thing just a few weeks ago. I’m surprised you don’t have her listed as a prank caller by now.” He felt bad using the old lady that way, but she did like to snoop around even if she meant well.
The cops slowly holstered their guns. “See if his story checks out,” the older one mouthed to his partner, then turned to the couch. “Sir, ma’am, you mind telling me why the door was… why it was open?”
“My parents like to get a breeze flowing—”
“Wasn’t talking to you, kid,” the cop said, holding up an index finger.
A small flutter of rage sparked in the back of Jonas’ mind, but he quelled it. He could make the cop leave. He could cross the short distance between them and pummel the man to death. But that wouldn’t solve the problem. That would only lead to more squad cars and possibly a swat team outside his apartment.
“He was just trying to be helpful, officer,” Alice Black said.
“And he’s right, it does get a little warm in here,” Victor added.
“It’s November,” the cop said.
“Steam radiators. On or off. Can’t seem to get the temperature adjusted quite right,” Victor said.
Jonas sent a pulse to the cop’s senses. The older man started to sweat.
The younger cop returned, tapping his partner’s shoulder. “Story checks out. The old lady calls at least twice a week. Gangs, drug dealers, and — get this — vampires.” He chuckled.
The older cop looked around the room, then glared at Jonas. “Something’s not quite right here,” he muttered. The younger one was buying it, but the older one was… it almost felt like part of his subconscious could sense the manipulation and was dumping adrenaline into the man’s system. His heart rate had spiked and he kept turning his head, like he could see the broken room from the corner of his eye.
“If there isn’t anything else, officers, my family and I would like to get back to our Saturday,” Victor said.
“I think it’d be best if we had a look around those back rooms, sir,” the older cop said.
“No,” Victor replied, flatly. “You’re done here.”
But the older cop was no longer looking at Jonas’ mother or father, he looked straight at Jonas.
His eyebrows knotted together, and he squinted.
The younger cop reached out and touched his partner’s arm. “C’mon, Eugene. Top floor, furniture looks expensive,” he said softly. “Let’s leave so these nice people can enjoy their Saturday morning.”
The older man glanced around once more, then grunted. “Thank you sir, ma’am. Have a nice day.”
“You too, officer,” Jonas said.
The cop gave him a final glare as he stepped outside and closed the door. It bounced off the frame — no latch — but Jonas made sure the cops thought it clicked shut. He kept the illusion going until they were in the elevator, then he collapsed on the couch. The room went back to the way it was. His parents were gone again.
“Phew,” Jonas said. His training up to that point had involved quick attacks on someone else’s mind, setting them up for a physical blow, or disorienting them long enough to give him a head start. Up until he’d tried it, he hadn’t been sure he could push something that… comprehensive, onto two people at once, or for that length of time. What was that, like, ten minutes? he thought, feeling pretty good about himself. Then, a little more somberly, A week ago, I wouldn’t have been able to do that.
He wondered if the sudden improvement in his skills had been brought on by the beating he’d taken, like a vampiric immune reaction. His mom had mentioned something like that when he’d started training. If so, the demon had done him a favor, or maybe Fangston, working from the inside. It could also have been a side effect of the thought-sharing he’d done with Eve. He’d picked up more than just random memories. There’d been various tricks and techniques mixed in as well.
It dawned on Jonas that he’d been speaking to the cops. That meant there wasn’t any blood left in his lungs. His body was still sore, but his hands and arms looked okay. He assumed the rest of him looked fine as well, especially in light of his newly working glamour. Things were looking up. He just needed to solve his food supply problem, and his housing problem… not to mention his hunter, werewolf, and demon problems.
One thing at a time, he thought. Finding a shirt, he slipped it on, then rounded up a jacket and scarf that were also blood-free. His phone had been broken during his beating at the Agency, so he removed the SIM card and tossed the rest. He still had his wallet — a debit card to his personal account, a credit card for emergencies, student ID, bookstore rewards’ card, and $13.50 in cash. He dumped his backpack out on the floor, shoved his wallet and SIM card into the front pocket, and slung it over his shoulder. Then, without looking back, he walked out.
I’ve made assumptions, Jonas thought, as he headed south and east, about who my friends and enemies were. About what they would and wouldn’t do to me. The sight of his mother’s empty room had left a particularly bitter taste in his mouth. I’ve also made assumptions about what I could and couldn’t do, he thought, recalling how he’d faced down Edwards, Phillip, and now the two cops. Why did I just lay there and let the Director’s thugs beat me into unconsciousness? Was it the shock of walking into a situation I hadn’t expected and wasn’t prepared for? He couldn’t imagine his mother, or Viviane, or even Eve getting blindsided that badly. They always seemed to have an aura about them, like nothing could touch them.
Maybe that’s all it was. Maybe it was like his father’s lucky coin, Viviane’s cigarette, his mother’s reputation, or the glamour — small deceptions that people would swallow without protest, never realizing there was a fishing pole, a gaff, and a cooler full of ice on the other end of the line.
One thing he knew for certain, though, was that he wasn’t going to take it anymore. Not that he knew where his newfound source of strength was coming from. He’d been raised in New York, well after the more dangerous 80s and 90s. He was educated, listened to music, and had never been in a fight until the past month. Maybe he’d picked up some of his father’s steadfastness and his mother’s fierce temperament. Maybe he’d snagged some of Eve’s determination to never be a victim again and taken it as his own. Or maybe it had been with him all along — the dark, violent, unyielding core of what he’d always thought to be a gentle soul. Not that it mattered. It was there, and it would claw, bite, burn, and kill before it allowed him to be a consenting victim again.
He walked through the front doors of the blood bank and stepped up to the counter. A pretty, human receptionist sat behind it. She looked to be in her early twenties, wearing a pale, pink blouse and wingtip-framed black glasses.
“Are you here to make a donation?” she said, “If so, you’ll just need to fill out—”
“Actually, I’m here to make a withdrawal,” Jonas said, in a friendly, matter-of-fact manner.
The girl cocked her head and glanced at the glass doors.
She’s probably wondering how I managed to get here in broad daylight, Jonas thought.
Shaking her head, the girl said, “Can I see your ID, please?”
Jonas put his backpack on the counter, pulled out his ID, and handed it to her.
She frowned and looked at the ID, then back at Jonas, and back to the ID.
“Is there a problem?”
“Oh, no,” she said, looking up. “For a second, I thought you might be related to our night manager, but that’s—”
“She’s my mother.”
The girl paused, looking confused, then shook her head and typed a few words into her computer. When she slid the ID back across the counter, Jonas knew she wasn’t going to give him what he needed.
“I’m sorry, Jonas, but the system says you’re not to be served. Mr. Fangston—”
“Yeah, about that… you see, Mr. Fangston and I are having a small disagreement right now. So, I’d appreciate it if you’d—”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t—”
“Stacy?” Jonas said, interrupting, his voice pleasant but firm. It was the same voice he’d heard Fangston use when they’d first met.
“How did you know my—”
Jonas leaned forward so none of the other people in the waiting area could see his face. He smiled, tensed his jaw, and extended his fangs. “I’m a vampire, Stacy. I can read your mind. Have you met my mother?”
“Yes,” Stacy said, leaning back, her eyes wide and fixed on his teeth.
“And do you know, Stacy, who loses when a car runs a red light and smashes into another car in the middle of an intersection?”
“I’m not sure I—”
“The pedestrian loses, Stacy.” He slapped his right hand loudly on the countertop, making the young woman jump in her seat. “The poor, young woman who was just trying to cross the street, to get home to…” he paused to skim her mind, “… to Adrian, her husband of just four months.”
Stacy was now quite pale, biting her lower lip, her hands trembling. Jonas, on the other hand, felt like he was six-feet-tall – ready to take on an entire football team. I can’t believe this is working, he thought.
“Now,” he said, putting his ID back into his wallet. “I would really appreciate it if you would fill this bag for me.”
“Okay, but—”
Jonas arched an eyebrow and glanced at her neck.
Her hand instinctively went to her throat. “I mean, of course, Mr. Black.”
♟
With a full backpack on his shoulders and the immediate risk of starvation behind him, Jonas felt like he could take a breath and try to stack things to his advantage, for once. He walked north — well outside the warded area, as he understood it — and started feeling around for… he couldn’t explain it, but when he’d talked to Madoc before, the connection with the spirit had a distinct feeling to it that, to Jonas’ mind, was like recognizing someone’s face or the sound of their voice. After two blocks, and almost falling over a young couple’s baby stroller, he found what he was looking for and gently made the connection.
You’re screwed, the specter sent. The thought wasn’t harsh; it was more like a lament.
That’s not very helpful, Madoc. Could you be more specific?
Jonas rolled his eyes. A prerequisite for surviving a few hundred years seemed to be a sense for the dramatic.
Could have used your help last night, Jonas sent.
I was a little busy, Madoc answered. Fangston sent out a few dozen vampires to search for me, while you were stumbling home. They must think I can locate the journal for them.
Jonas blinked. He hadn’t considered that Madoc might be in danger. How did you stop them from catching you?
I didn’t. I ran. Daylight stopped them, the specter said. The bigger question is… how did you manage to hide the journal from them? The werewolves should have been able to sniff it out, if it was hidden close to where they were looking.
They couldn’t track my scent because I’m a vampire. I don’t smell like anything, Jonas answered. He was still walking north, trying to make progress while talking to the specter at the same time. That and a few drops of peppermint oil mixed with furniture polish.
Madoc laughed. They did look upset. I think half the damage they did to your apartment was out of frustration. What made you think of it?
You told me not to trust the wolf. Also, my mother kept peppermint oil with the cleaning supplies; always struck me as weird.
He paused at an intersection and waited for the light to change. One of the other pedestrians was puffing on a cigarette, blowing her smoke all over everyone. Jonas hated when people did that. Suddenly, the woman flinched like she’d been stung, dropped the cigarette, and ground it out with the ball of her foot. Did I do that? Jonas thought. He pulled his thoughts in tighter. The last thing he needed on his conscience was someone stepping out into oncoming traffic because they’d annoyed him.
They’re going to come for you, Madoc said.
Yeah, yeah… I’m working on it. Can you still do your thing if I get you the troops?
How are you going to do that?
Answer my question first, Jonas replied.
You mean like this? Madoc said.
All of a sudden, Jonas had a perfect sense of where everyone and everything around him was. Amazing, he thought. All of his senses were being augmented with information from the specter. By focusing, he could hear conversations a block away, or see the contents of a man’s wallet inside his coat pocket. If he let his mind relax, the view expanded, and it was like having a personal spy satellite that could see through walls. People appeared in transparent blue, and his own body appeared in green. There were also two red shapes — Order werewolves — tracking him, moving from rooftop to rooftop a block to the southeast. Jonas could see exactly which path he needed to take to lose them — through the fish market on 75th and 2nd Ave.
What are you going to do? Madoc said.
Make some new friends.
♟
Within the hour, Jonas was feeling pretty good about his plan. He’d broken into his high school – well, technically, it wasn’t a break-in, Jonas thought. The janitor had let him in, after he’d felt a sudden, unexplainable urge to unlock the front doors and step out for a breath of fresh air. Then, scratching his head, he’d gone back inside and locked the doors behind him, but not before Jonas had slipped in, creeping silently through the empty halls until he’d reached Mr. Edwards’ office. It was locked.
Any idea how to pick a lock? Jonas asked.
How about a credit card? Madoc sounded amused.
“Hmm,” Jonas reached back to grab his wallet.
I was joking, Jonas. That only works on doors without dead-bolts. You’re a vampire, force it open.
Won’t that make a lot of noise? Jonas asked, scowling.
The door’s wired with a silent alarm. But you were expecting that, weren’t you? I’m several hundred years old, you know. I was in special operations, overseeing missions far more complex and bloody than whatever it is you have in mind. I don’t have to put up with some snot-nosed, smart-ass kid’s cryptic comments.
Jonas grinned, but didn’t answer the question. When he’d found Madoc, the specter had been broken and afraid. Annoying him seemed to be the only way to draw him out, and for Jonas’ plan to work, he needed Madoc to be the big bad specter everyone thought he was.
He planted his foot to the left of the door, grabbed the handle, and pulled. The door was solid, but the doorframe less so. It splintered, and Jonas stumbled back as the door swung open. He stepped into the room, turned on the normal lights — not the UV bulbs — and sat down behind the desk. He checked the drawers, but all they contained was regular teacher’s stuff. Disappointed, he pulled out a quarter and started rolling it back and forth across his knuckles, wishing he’d brought his MP3 player. He hadn’t listened to music in days.
After about three minutes of waiting, Madoc said, Two armed men have entered the building and are headed your way. This is part of the plan, right?
Yes, Jonas replied.
A few moments later, two large men, body armor under their trench coats, walked into the room with submachine guns pointed at Jonas. They had that funny-looking, half-crouched walk, Jonas had seen on TV, which kept them perfectly level as they moved. They split up once inside the doorway, one to each corner, keeping their aim on Jonas.
“What are you doin’ here, kid?” the one on the left said, in a light southern accent.
“He ripped the lock open, Billy. Looks like a vamp to me… fry him.”
Billy narrowed his eyes, then shrugged. There was an attachment under the barrel of his gun, with a big red button. He pushed it with his thumb, and it flashed like a camera.
Jonas wrinkled his nose and blinked. His skin tingled. More UV weapons. “I came here in full daylight, you know.”
“Serum,” the serious one said. “Hit him again.” He threw the special switch on the wall, and Billy flashed the UV weapon again. It wasn’t pleasant, but Jonas kept his mind on the quarter that was still rolling back and forth across his knuckles.
“What’s going on here?” Edwards said, stepping into the room. He was wearing a coat and a beige knit cap. His face was red, and he was breathing hard. “Jonas?”
“Hi, Mr. Edwards. I need your help.”
“He’s a vampire, Dave.”
“I’m aware of that, Frank. This is Alice Black’s kid,” Edwards said.
Jonas put the quarter on the table and flicked it, making it spin.
“And you,” Edwards said to Jonas, “get out of my office.”
“Or what? Billy and Frank here will shoot me?” Jonas slapped his hand down on the spinning coin. Billy and Frank pulled the magazines out of their weapons, racked their bolts, and a bullet from each fell to the floor. They stood, staring forward, hands at their sides. Jonas tried not to show how much effort he was putting into it.
“Cute, kid,” Edwards said, pulling a pistol from inside his coat. Jonas tried to push into his mind, but it was like there was a steel wall between them.
“I really need your help,” Jonas said. He was trying to look relaxed, but he knew he couldn’t keep Frank and Billy docile for long. Frank — Jonas had thought of him as the calmer one at first — was mentally thrashing like a madman. His body stood perfectly still, but his face kept twitching, and his eyes were bloodshot.
“Talk to the Agency about that,” Edwards said.
“There are over two hundred vampires, werewolves, and other creatures, hidden under the Agency. They belong to the Order of Shadows—”
Edwards started laughing. He tucked his pistol into a holster under his left arm, and said, “Okay, kid. You got me. Very funny. Now let my men go and get out of my chair. Oh, and you’re paying for the door.”
“I’m not joking,” Jonas said, standing and releasing the two men. They looked at Edwards, questioningly, but the teacher shook his head and they hid their weap
ons under their coats.
“Wait outside,” he told them. Once they’d gone, he took his coat off, sat down behind the desk, and waved Jonas into one of the extra chairs. “Kid, there is no Order of Shadows. It’s just a scary story, made up and used by your people to keep the cattle in line, and by my people to keep humans vigilant. The Agency’s just a lobby group with sharper teeth than most - it’s all about détente these days, or I’d actually be hunting instead of keeping an eye on you.”
His information is incorrect, Madoc said. The Order of Shadows was eradicated in 1834, but it was very real. They were the first to come up with the idea for a serum that allows vampires to tolerate sunlight.
“Madoc says you’re wrong.”
“Who’s Madoc?” Edwards asked, gripping the arms of his chair a little tighter.
“A specter.”
Edwards rolled his eyes and relaxed his grip. “And what else did ‘Madoc’ tell you about the Order?”
“That they were eradicated in 1834.”
Edwards nodded, steepling his fingers, his eyes looking up and to the right. “That’s a nice touch. End of the Spanish Inquisition, slavery abolished in the British Empire. Right around the time the Macready clan immigrated to Massachusetts, too. Now get out of my office!”
“I can prove it! Just take the cap off.”
“Right, and I’m supposed to trust you… why?”
“Because I could have had Billy and Frank shoot you instead of unloading their guns. Besides, you don’t have anything to worry about. I don’t think I could control three people at once, even if I wanted to. I’m a kid, remember?”
Edwards frowned, then pulled the cap off. It crinkled; the inside was silver.
Jonas snorted. “Is that tinfoil?”
“Laugh if you want, it works. You have exactly thirty seconds to prove yourself before my men throw you out, and I send the Agency a bill for the door.”
“Now,” Jonas said, looking at the air above him. He could have sent the command to Madoc silently, but he thought his reputation would benefit from the theatrics.
Edwards’ eyes widened as both he and Jonas were tapped into the hyper-awareness that the specter was broadcasting. They could see Billy and Frank standing outside the office. Billy had his ear pressed against the door.
Hello, Dave, Madoc said.