“Go ahead, John. Paul’s right behind us,” Georgia said, then placed a hand on Kay’s seat. “It’ll be fine.”
Everyone kept saying that; it was really getting on Connor’s nerves.
~
I had to get to my phone.
I turned from Mr. Leonard’s body and raced for the front doors where I’d left my backpack. Once I saw the flashing red and blue lights outside, I froze. I could see Tim’s face through the glass. I don’t know what my expression betrayed of the situation, but as soon as our eyes met, he charged in through the unlocked door.
“Emery, where is Mr. Leonard?” he asked, approaching me slowly, two officers at his back with their hands on their guns, ready to draw them.
My eyes felt hot. My hand shook as I pointed back to the living room.
Tim motioned to the other officers and they hurried around me, making me flinch at their close proximity. I looked at Tim and…erupted.
“He said they’d come for him, and they did. I heard glass breaking, and yelling, but I couldn’t wake up. He put me in the closet. I passed out or something, and I…I couldn’t wake up.”
“Emery.” Tim’s hands came down on my shoulders. He had blond hair and kind brown eyes, his uniform just the smallest bit too tight from holiday weight he hadn’t been able to work off yet, or so he’d said, laughing to my parents about it only a couple weeks ago.
Laughing…
“Chief,” one of the other officers said from the living room entrance.
“He’s dead,” I said before the officer could. “I was right here and…I didn’t even…I couldn’t…”
“Emery, it’s okay. I know you had nothing to do with this,” Tim assured me. I hadn’t even thought about them considering me a suspect. “We’re going to have to bring you in for questioning, just to get the details, but you’re not in trouble. You’ve had your parents pretty worried. Right now I’m going to have Officer Rogers take you out to the ambulance to make sure you’re okay. All right?”
I nodded. I couldn’t look Tim in the eyes. I kept staring at his uniform, the way the buttons pulled…
Officer Rogers came up to lead me outside while Tim went to join the other officer in the living room. I put on my shoes, grabbed my backpack, but I was numb until we hit the open air. The brightness of the sun made my eyes burn. I’d been in the closet too long, because it felt like it took the entire walk to the ambulance before I could see clearly past the brightness. My skin felt hot, too hot when it was early morning and colder than yesterday, but the sun felt like it was trying to beat me into the pavement.
I knew the EMT. I’d seen him at St. Mary’s Hospital while visiting Connor’s mom. He was huge, like a Viking. They used him when they needed to lift heavier patients. He had full lips that smiled wide as he flashed a light in my eyes. It didn’t burn the way the sun did, but at least now I was in the shade, sitting in the back of the ambulance with my feet dangling out onto the driveway.
“I think I have a concussion. I was unconscious all night, but I don’t remember why. And it’s so hot. Should I feel hot?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself now, son,” he said in slow, soothing tones. “You look alert to me, and your skin feels pretty chilled. Maybe just disoriented and a little in shock from what happened last night. I’m Doug.”
I nodded. “Emery.”
I answered his questions, stuck my tongue out, let him take my pulse. My blood pressure was low, but nothing to be alarmed about. Everything was normal.
Everything was normal…
I heard the sound of our Tahoe like it must have been right in front of me, but it was another minute before I saw my dad pull up. Everything felt too sharp or too dull—not normal at all. I told Doug, but he just smiled, said it would be okay. I didn’t believe him until I saw my parents get out of the car. And Georgia. And Connor.
I jumped to my feet, but Doug asked me to stay where I was; my family could come to me. The direct sunlight made my eyes sting, so I obeyed and sat back down.
My mom had me in a hug a second later.
“You didn’t curl your hair today,” I said, “or straighten it.” She never went out with her natural wave.
“Well excuse me for having something else on my mind,” she said with a short laugh.
“Sorry…”
“Don’t you dare be, honey, we’re just glad you’re okay.”
Then Dad was there, his burly arms engulfing me as he kissed my cheek like grandma always did, and squeezed too tightly to let me know how worried he’d been even though he was smiling and said he hadn’t worried at all. Mom punched him in the arm for that.
Georgia was talking to Doug, getting the low-down on me. She looked satisfied with his answers, but my attention shifted to Connor.
“You look awful,” he said as my parents parted to let him through, half his mouth twitching like he was trying so hard to mean that as a joke, to not look scared.
This wasn’t the kind of scared I was used to when we played a horror game or watched a scary movie; he’d always have a smile on his face then, even when he was hiding his head behind a pillow or clutching my arm until it hurt.
No. This was the same kind of shaky fear I was feeling.
“That bad, huh?”
“Nah,” he said, forcing a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just a little pale like you might throw up all over my shoes. What…” He stopped, his smile dropping as soon as he thought of his next sentence. “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing. He’s dead. Whoever murdered his wife, they…” I looked at Mom and Dad. “He didn’t…”
…a sharp pain in my neck tore the air from my lungs, like he’d struck me with a knife or a needle.
I shook my head. That hadn’t really happened. I didn’t have any marks, there wasn’t any…blood.
I licked my lips. They were dry now, cracked.
“Let me see if Tim will let us take you home for now, honey, and bring you to the station later after you’ve had some rest,” my mom’s voice phased into my hearing like an echo. “I’m sure they’ll have their hands full here.”
I must have zoned out, because I jumped when Connor touched my arm. He was sitting beside me now—when had that happened? My eyes felt hot again when I turned to him.
“Dude, don’t look at me like that,” he said, a catch in his voice that made it harder to keep the warm tears from sliding down my face.
I hugged him so hard when he put his arms around me, I heard him grunt for air, but he didn’t push me away; he hugged just as fiercely back. The feel of his prosthetic grounded me.
I was safe. I was okay.
“You should go to practice,” I said when we pulled apart. I didn’t know what time it was, but it had to still be early enough for Saturday morning play practice.
“You kidding?” He raised an eyebrow at me, which finally resembled a normal expression.
“You can tell everyone I’m okay. I’m probably going to crash when I get home anyway. I must have slept all night, but I feel so tired. I just…” I looked past him at the house. It all felt like a dream, like I was delirious or about to be sick. Maybe it was shock.
“Okay,” Connor said, “but I’m coming over as soon as we’re done. You promise you’ll tell me everything that happened?”
“I don’t really remember anything,” I said. Not anything that made sense.
“I’ll bring Swedish Fish and the original Mortal Kombat movie,” he offered hopefully.
His smile touched his eyes this time, as I turned my attention back to him. They looked gold this close. I could see flecks of brown, and bronze, and what honestly looked like gold all detailed in his eyes like I was seeing them under a microscope. I pulled back, thinking I must be zoning out again, but when I did, C
onnor was the one who looked dazed.
“Okay, boys, we’re going to get going,” Mom said. She and Dad had gone to talk to Tim with Connor’s dad, but now all four parents stood in front of us, with Doug hanging back behind them. I looked at Connor again, who blinked like he’d been somewhere else.
“Huh? Oh yeah. Let’s get out of here, Em.” He grinned at me as he stood and held out his silver hand to help me up. He knew Terminator was my favorite; definitely the most badass—besides the Rocket-Punch one.
“Yeah,” I said. Even though the sun still burned my eyes and made me feel beaten by the heat I knew couldn’t really be there, the only thing I wanted was to get away from the ambulance, away from that house, and crawl into bed.
~
Wendy
Police swarmed the property. It was too late to get any information now, at least until they left, and then Wendy would have to be careful.
Her dark brown eyes surveyed the commotion in front of William and Mallory Leonard’s now ownerless home from a safe distance. She brought the kickstand up on her black Ducati and adjusted the zoom she had equipped in her specially made motorcycle helmet. It had night vision, infrared, but she’d seen all she needed to for today.
Wendy knew she was right about the boy who’d come out of the house. It was the only explanation for how he was still alive.
As she drove off, leaving the house—and the boy—in her rearview mirror for now, she couldn’t help thinking that things were about to get much more complicated.
Chapter 4
Connor
Connor rushed upstairs to his room. After getting home from play practice, he had discretely snuck outside to take care of the charred bear in the backyard, thankful his parents hadn’t noticed it yet. It was now safely jammed inside a garbage bag with the rest of the trash.
He had wanted to go straight to Emery’s after practice—being in charge of several plates of fake sardines was trying his sanity even without a couple murders and a traumatized best friend to distract him—but his dad had insisted he wait a few more hours so Emery could rest, and to call first instead of just walking in uninvited like he usually did. Connor decided he’d obey halfway and call over their walkie talkies.
The walkies were from Walmart, nothing special; black, thirty-five-mile range. He and Emery had gotten them when they were thirteen, since they hadn’t been allowed cell phones until they were sixteen.
“You don’t need a cell phone until you can you drive,” their parents had agreed.
Emery didn’t drive much anyway since his family only had the Tahoe. His mom had never gotten a license, and Emery had decided he’d rather save up a couple extra years for a nicer car after graduation. Connor certainly didn’t mind lending out his car on occasion, or playing chauffer, though he had been deeply disappointed when he learned that his prosthetics meant he couldn’t get handicap plates for better parking.
They had cell phones now, of course, but Emery’s was constantly dying, which had played no small part in last night’s events. And besides, there was something intimate about the walkies, just the two of them, connected across their lawns. They’d spent countless nights talking on them when they should have been sleeping. Emery’s voice was a smooth baritone that sounded lyrical to Connor even just talking. Connor loved falling asleep to Emery’s voice.
“Auntie Em, Auntie Em,” Connor whispered into his walkie. He kept it charged next to his bed. Their rooms weren’t in the right locations to see into each other’s windows.
Static replied. Emery might have his turned off, turned down, or not charged at the moment, but Connor still had to try.
“Dude, are you awake? Dad won’t let me come over unless you give the okay.”
Static.
“Em, come on. You are going to be bombarded Monday if the way everyone grilled me was any indication. People are freaked. Mark even said he was worried we should postpone the play if there’s really some serial killer on the loose striking at young, defenseless suburbanites. Well, he didn’t word it quite like that…”
Still nothing.
Connor huffed and clutched the walkie to his chest. They hadn’t spent more than a night’s sleep away from each other since they were toddlers, even if one of them was sick—which usually didn’t matter anyway, since what one of them got, the other caught quickly as well, excluding Emery’s chronic sinus infections.
It left a dry thickness in Connor’s throat not knowing what had happened to his friend. He’d been able to dismiss his concerns last night, but he’d spent all morning worrying that Emery was dead in Mr. Leonard’s basement.
“I never would have forgiven you if you’d died on me, you know,” Connor tried one last time. When static replied, he flopped down onto his bed, holding the walkie close in case Emery woke up.
~
I was freezing, but my body wouldn’t shiver. That’s how you get warm, isn’t it? By shivering? It was as if I was a statue; I couldn’t move, but everything felt cold, even though the sun outside had been too hot.
I was back in the Leonards’ house. Everywhere I could see there were shadows, but the fire was burning in the fireplace, casting light on Mr. Leonard lying on the carpet. I wanted to turn away, but I was rooted to the spot, my neck stiff and eyes directed at where Cloak hovered over Mr. Leonard’s head, ominous in his giant black cape and hood, while Dagger held him down and stabbed one of her psionic light daggers into his chest.
Something like a rush of hot water poured over me from the neck down. I still couldn’t move my head, but my hand twitched at my side. Whatever covered me felt sticky and thick, and I just wanted to get out of there. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. I tried so hard to move, even just an inch.
Then Cloak and Dagger turned to me. They didn’t look like heroes anymore.
I jolted awake feeling like my pulse was vibrating, but when I touched a hand to my throat it felt steady, almost weirdly slow. There was nothing sticky on me, not even a little drool, but the cold part had been true. I’d slept on top of the covers and felt like I was freezing deep down to my core.
“I never would have forgiven you if you’d died on me, you know,” Connor’s voice said quietly from somewhere in the room.
I sat up to look for him before I realized the fuzziness of his voice was because it had come through my walkie. It was plugged in on my computer desk, blinking at me that it was now fully charged.
Rubbing my hands up and down my arms to warm them, I scooted to the end of the bed. When I stood, I caught sight of myself in the long mirror on the inside of my closed door. I really did look awful. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so pale. My skin isn’t quite as dark as my dad’s, but still dark enough that pale just looks weird on me, like someone did me up in bad zombie makeup. I guess nothing else seemed off, maybe a little darkness around my eyes like I needed more sleep, though my eyes also seemed sort of…bright.
And I was cold. And starving.
I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch the day before. When Mom asked if I wanted anything before heading up to bed, nothing she’d mentioned sounded appetizing.
The alarm clock on my dresser told me it was 12:30—Connor must have just gotten back from practice. “If you’re the reason I woke up from that nightmare,” I spoke into the walkie as I unplugged it from the charger, “thank you. What’s up?”
“Em!” Connor called, louder than before. “Do you want company yet? Dad is being way too paranoid about you needing rest.”
“Same here. Mom said she didn’t want me out of the room until I’d gotten some real sleep. They’re probably going to have me on a short leash for a while.”
“Damn. Well…I could climb the trellis again?” I heard the smirk in Connor’s voice as he suggested this.
The lights were off, and I’d shut
the blinds earlier to keep the sun out. Now it seemed too dark, with shadows everywhere making me think of my dream. I moved to the switch on the wall to fill the room with light again; I didn’t care if it was silly and childish to not want to be in the dark.
“Company,” I said. “I definitely would prefer that. Just don’t get hurt this time, okay?”
“Please, that was just a scratch.”
“And eight stitches.”
“I wear the scar proudly. Be right there,” Connor said.
As static filled the walkie, I moved to open the window the trellis led to. I’d convinced Mom it was a cool look for the house and that it was most fitting on the wall outside my room; the trellis couldn’t be blamed if it made it easier for Connor to sneak over. He’d only done it a couple times though. Usually we didn’t need to be covert.
The sun was almost directly overhead now, but still aligned just right to shoot into my window, making me squint. Even if I didn’t have a concussion, I guess I could have a migraine, but my head didn’t really hurt and I wasn’t nauseous. Besides, my room was pretty bright with the light on; it didn’t make sense for only the sunlight to bother me.
I decided to change into fresh clothes while I waited for Connor. I’d napped in the same ones from yesterday and was probably covered in dust from that closet. Plus, I didn’t care what temperature it was outside, I wanted a sweater.
I was still only in my jeans, deciding that my light grey sweater with the high collar was probably the warmest, when Connor climbed in through the window.
“Sweet, free show.” He winked at me.
“Ha. Ha.” I pulled the sweater over my head. “I can’t seem to get warm. Can you close the window?”
He did so but left the blinds open. “You feeling better otherwise?”
When I looked at him, I half expected my stomach to emit a loud growl—for some reason I felt ten times hungrier now that he was here. “Mostly. Are you sure the whole thing wasn’t just a bad dream?” I offered a smile I hoped wasn’t as weak as it felt.
Life as a Teenage Vampire Page 3