by Emily Knight
"Where do we even start looking for this attacker?" Ana asked Peter.
Peter shrugged. "I guess we start at the beginning where the first attack happened and go from there. There should be some clue around there."
"A clue that the police haven't found?" she reminded him.
He smiled at her. "Well, the police don't have a vampire following a possible vampire."
She smiled back. "All right, I'll fly us there and see if we can find anything."
Ana stood, but Peter grasped her hand and pulled her back down. "Wait a sec, what about your dad? Does he check in on you?"
"He might, but it's a chance I'm willing to take to help you," she replied.
He nodded. "All right, then let's get flying."
Lysander walked further up the house and slipped behind a chimney. He saw Peter lean out and Ana catch hold of his collar. The pair flew out of the window and over the woods. Lysander stepped from the shadows with his mouth set in a frown. He transformed into a bat and followed them.
With Peter's directions Ana flew them to the location of the first attack. They didn't see any signs of the police so Ana dropped Peter onto the gravel path and changed beside him. "Man, that is so cool being able to fly," he told her.
She smiled, but walked forward and bent down to peer into the brush alongside of the path. "Focus."
Peter's eyes swept over her tight butt. "I am focusing."
Ana glanced over her shoulder and blushed. "I meant on the task at hand," she scolded him.
He shook himself from his derriere reverie. "What? Oh, right, finding something." He stooped and walked along the lit path while Ana took the spot where the young man had been found. Peter heard her sniff and paused to look at her. "Do vampires catch a cold?"
She shook her head. "It's not that. I smell something." She knelt down and picked something dark off the ground.
Peter knelt beside her and peered at the object. "A patch of fur?" he guessed.
Ana nodded. "Yes. I'm not sure what kind of fur, but it's matted with blood. Fresh blood."
Peter plucked it from her fingers and turned the matted fur over in his palm. "I've got a friend in the science department at the university who could take a look at this. I'll go to him tomorrow." He stuffed the fur into his pocket, but Ana grabbed his wrist. He looked up into her face and noticed her skin was paler than usual and her hand shook.
"You don't need to do that," she told him.
He raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"
She dropped her hand and stood. "I. . .I know who's blood it is. It's my dad's blood."
Peter rose to his feet. "How can you tell?" he asked her.
Ana turned away from him and wrapped her arms around herself. "He has a unique smell to his blood. It's very old, like an aged wine." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "There's no mistaking that scent."
Peter felt the color drain from his face. "So if you can smell blood like that, does that mean he can smell my blood?"
She nodded. "If you have a cut or leave a trail, yes, but he can't tell if it's vampire or human."
"So don't cut myself shaving?" he suggested.
She half-turned to him and managed a shaky smile. "Or cut your finger."
"Good to know, but if this is your dad's blood then that kind of means your dad's involved in this somehow," he pointed out.
She frowned and shook her head. "I just can't believe it. I know I should, but he's my dad. I trust him, and I know he wouldn't do something this reckless. He's endangering all of us by attacking these humans."
Peter grasped her hands and opened his mouth, but he couldn't think of anything to say. He turned away and looked to the east. A faint light shimmered on the horizon. "How about you take a rest on this and I'll find out what I can about that clump of fur? Maybe you've got it wrong about the smell and it's that guy's blood."
Ana sighed and laid her hand over one of his. She looked up into his eyes and smiled. "Thank you."
He blinked at her. "For what?"
"For giving me hope."
Peter sheepishly grinned and shrugged. "What's a friend for?"
Ana blushed and stepped closer to him. She stood on her tiptoes and pecked a soft kiss on his cheek. "See you tomorrow." She stepped back, transformed into her bat form, and flew off into the brightening sky.
Peter's eyes were wide and his face was frozen. Then he slapped his forehead and grimaced. "Way to friend-zone a beautiful girl, Pete. . ."
He turned toward home and missed the large shadow that watched from the trees. Lysander's red eyes were narrow and the fangs bit into his lower lip. He glanced in the direction Ana had gone. She was nearly out of sight. He opened his wings and flapped into the air after her.
In a few minutes Ana flew through her bedroom window and changed back into her human self. Her cheeks showed off a light red hue and her eyes twinkled. She spun around her room and raised her hands above her head. "He likes me!" Her dizzying spin spun her onto her bed and she lay there for a moment staring at the ceiling. Then she furrowed her brow and tilted her head. "At least I think he likes me."
"Who likes you?" a voice spoke up. Ana sat up and whipped her head to the window. In front of the sill stood her father. His stance was stiff and both hands tightly gripped the top of the cane that stood in front of him.
She nervously smiled at him. "Um, nobody, Dad. I was just-um, just talking talking in my sleep."
"Sleeping before the sun rises?" he pointed out.
"I was just getting ready to fall asleep. See?" She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. "Really tired. I guess I'd better hit the pine wood."
He raised one hand. "Not yet. There are things we need to discuss."
Ana froze mid fake-yawn. "About what?"
He limped over to her desk, turned the chair toward her, and seated himself. "You disobeyed my orders not to see that young man."
Ana paled, but her eyes narrowed as she alternated her gaze between her father and the window. "Did you. . .did you follow me?"
"It was for the best. That boy will be the permanent death of you," her father insisted.
Ana stood and balled her hands into fists at her side. "How often have you followed me? Do you know anything about what's happening in the park?"
He shook his head. "What happens in the human world, and those who dwell in it, is none of your concern."
Her eyes narrowed. "I'm almost a hundred and fifty. I don't need you to babysit me every hour of the night, and I think I deserve some answers."
Her father frowned. He slowly rose from his chair. "With what lies has he been filling your head?" She half-turned from him and folded her arms over her chest. His lips curled up in a snarl. He marched forward and grabbed one of her wrists and tore it from her. She spun around to face him and shrank beneath his fiery gaze. "What has he told you?"
Ana swallowed the fear and stood straight. "He's told me you're involved in an attempted murder."
Lysander started back. His eyes narrowed. "That is a lie."
Ana tore herself from her father's grasp. "Is it? You secretly follow me wherever I go, and I'm supposed to believe that?"
He shook his head. "You don't understand. You need caring if you choose to use your hours to fraternize with one of his kind. He doesn't act like one of us. He's-"
"-alive," Ana chimed in. She gestured to her room with its old-fashioned furniture and ancient architecture. "This place is dead."
"We are dead," Lysander reminded her.
"Yes, but we can live!" Ana's face softened and her shoulders drooped. She placed her hand on his shoulder and smiled into his careworn face. "I know you love me and have tried to make me happy, but I can't live here forever. I want to go out and live a life, any life, and I think this boy is-well, he's alive and free and wants to be my friend."
Lysander raised an eyebrow. "So he says, but young men cannot be trusted. They mean to
show you an ugly world. One you don't want to know."
Ana shook her head. "But he's different! I-" She turned away and blushed. "I think he might like me."
Her father frowned and his hands tightened their hold on the cane. "He makes promises and dates, but he is dangerous to us. The more people who know about us the more vulnerable our position becomes."
Ana grasped her father's hands and looked into his eyes. "But we can't stay like this forever! We'll stay young, but the world will go on without us and we'll wither and die!"
"We will survive," he insisted.
Ana growled and flew to her feet so she faced away from him. She raised her arms on either side of her. "Survive? This is not surviving! This is-this is existing without life! It's worse than being dead!"
Lysander's eyes narrowed as he stood to his feet. He hunched over his cane and glared at his insubordinate daughter. "You know nothing of dying, and from what I have heard you know nothing of the world. That is perhaps my mistake, but I will not let my mistake ruin your life. You will remain here and that young man will not return. That is my final word and you will obey it."
Ana spun around. Her eyes flashed with spirit and she pointed at the door. "Out."
"Ana," her father warned her.
She jabbed her finger at the door. "Dad, you may rule this castle, but this room is my domain, and I say out!" Her movements were so swift even he had trouble following them. Ana turned him around and pushed him toward the door. She opened the entrance and shoved him out into the hall. He turned around, but his face nearly met the thick wood of the door as she slammed it on him. The knob was locked and he heard the sound of the desk as it was dragged against the other side of the door.
Lysander frowned and spun away from the locked door. He limped down the hall and stairs, but forsook the sanctuary of his study for the cool night air outside the front door. The eastern sky glowed softly with the coming light, but for the present he was safe beneath the cover of the porch. Lysander leaned heavily against his cane and sighed.
"What hath man wrought?" he whispered.
"An endless supply of trouble," a voice spoke behind him. Lysander didn't turn around as Roger moved to stand by his side. His old eyes looked to the rising sun and he chuckled. "And a beauty and majesty behind his doings that pales even the rising sun."
Lysander watched the sun rise and frowned. "I see only the trouble."
Roger shrugged. "Then you see only half the picture, but perhaps that's because you've forgotten what curiosity does to the mind and spirit. It lets one live again."
Lysander closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened them again their red tint was gone and they glowed a light blue. "Perhaps." He reentered the house and shut the door behind himself.
Roger watched him leave and sighed. "Old friend, you must trust them."
CHAPTER 13