by Eli Grant
“To be fair,” Dante said, looking at me over his teacup. “It wasn’t an especially strong threshold.”
I looked at the stun gun in my hand for a moment, then took several swift steps towards the couch, already holding the trigger. Dante set his tea down quickly and held up his hands, sliding backwards on the couch as I advanced on him.
The strength of a home’s threshold was dependent on a lot of factors. How long the tenant had lived there, who had built it and how, the general disposition of the inhabitants—the old family home your Great Grandpa built himself probably had a threshold so strong that most vampires wouldn’t be able to cross it at all without permission. A shitty rental inhabited for a couple of years at most by orphans who basically just slept there? Not so much.
But even so, it was enough to make a vampire significantly weaker. Weak enough to kill maybe. Definitely weak enough to hurt.
“Miss Evie, please,” he said, talking quickly and doing a pretty good job of keeping his voice calm and even despite his body language practically screaming don’t taze me. I caught him by the collar before he could slip off the couch and away from me. “If you would think for a moment you may realize that assaulting a vampire, even a temporarily depowered one, is not an intelligent course of action. What exactly is your plan for after I leave and regain my powers?”
“Can’t get your powers back if you’re dead,” I replied, looming over him, mostly just to see the flash of genuine worry in his eyes. I wasn’t actually going to kill a vampire. Even threatening one that had broken into my house was a good way to fuck myself over. A vampire didn’t need powers to ruin your life. They could just call your bank for that. But I’d had a really bad couple of days, and it would have been incredibly satisfying to zap him a couple of times.
But, I thought, staring down into that handsome insufferable face, my fist clenched tight in his shirt, he hadn’t just stumbled through my threshold by accident. Unless he was very, very stupid, which I wasn’t gonna rule out, he’d depowered himself intentionally. Trying to get my guard down? A show of good faith maybe? Unless it was trick. If this was a trap I couldn’t see it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Either way, taking advantage of him while he was powerless was probably a bad move.
I took a deep breath and lowered the stun gun, already regretting it.
“Excellent,” he said, confident smile returning immediately. “Now we can—”
His mouth snapped shut as I raised the stun gun again, just enough to make him flinch.
“I’ve never seen a jumpy vampire,” I said idly. Slowly, I unclenched my fist from his shirt and sat down on the other end of the couch, facing him. “Must be a long time since you’ve been vulnerable.”
“On the contrary I enjoy a bit of vulnerability twice a week,” he replied, smooth as silk. “There’s a fantastic little place uptown that employs a lovely redheaded woman who can’t be much more than four feet tall. She does the most amazing things with leather—”
“Okay, now you’re asking me to taze you,” I interrupted. “Enough. I want to know how you got my name and what you want with me.”
He started to open his mouth and I brandished the stun gun at him again.
“No bullshit,” I repeated. “I would love an excuse to see what fifteen million volts does to a depowered vampire and my self-control is not exactly great right now.
“I learned your name through your police record,” he said quickly. “The Otherside police keep a file on all of Domino’s associates. Despite never having been able to pin anything on you, the list of incidents associated with you is long and decidedly impressive. I’m looking to steal something incredibly valuable. It is very well guarded and my window of opportunity is quite small, so I will only work with the best. You, Miss Evie, are the best.”
“Bullshit,” I declared, firing up the stun gun again.
“Fine!” Dante snapped, leaning away, his voice finally losing some of its impeccable control. “You’re the best I can get within the time frame! Excuse me for attempting to flatter you!”
I let go of the stun gun’s trigger and leaned back.
“What about Mulholland?” I asked. “She’s the best.”
He straightened his clothes, expression bitter. “Prison,” he replied.
“Shit. I didn’t think she’d ever get caught.”
“She didn’t. Felony tax evasion.”
“Oh. What about Nailbiter?” I asked, gesturing with the stun gun. “He’s got that goblin metal trick. No one better at locks or vaults.”
He rolled his eyes as he fiddled with the strap of an offensively expensive watch.
“Not in the country at the moment. Somewhere with no extradition treaty I’d imagine.”
“Did you try Grier? Houndstooth?”
“Yes,” he said, exasperated. “Even before Domino suggested the exact same list. When I say you are my only option, please believe that I made certain to exhaust all other avenues first.”
I leaned back against the arm of the couch, biting the inside of my cheek. Dante finished composing himself and turned to face me.
“What’s the score?” I asked.
“Confidential,” he replied. “I can’t risk telling anyone who hasn’t committed to the endeavor.
“And I can’t risk taking a job that I don’t know the details of,” I said. He raised an eyebrow.
“You’re considering it after all, then?”
“I didn’t say that.”
He looked at me for a long moment. I’m normally pretty decent at reading people, but I couldn’t read anything in those dark eyes.
Finally he turned away.
“Are you certain you don’t want any tea?” he asked, pouring himself a fresh cup. “It’s a very exclusive blend.”
“I’m more of a coffee person.”
“Hm. I should have known.”
I had a feeling I should be offended by that, but I didn’t care enough to do more than scowl.
“I assume you’re aware of the upcoming Tournament of the Five Races?” he asked.
“Of course,” I said. “Why? Don’t tell me the vampires plan to win this year by just stealing the trophy. I know you fuckers cheat but that’s taking it a little far, don’t you think?”
“I’m going to choose to ignore that,” Dante replied, giving me a dark look. I just smiled and waved at him with the stun gun. He cleared his throat. “The commencement ceremony is this weekend, to be held in Grace Cathedral Fae-space. From the night of the ceremony until the Champion’s Confirmation three days later, the cathedral will display some of our civilizations oldest and most valuable artifacts. My target is one of these artifacts.”
“Ah, yeah, this makes a lot more sense now,” I said. “You’re insane.”
Dante put his teacup down with an exasperated huff. I liked him better like this, annoyed out of his smug, suave persona. He seemed a little more like a person and less like a carefully constructed stereotype.
“The cathedral is going to be crawling with cameras,” I pointed out. “Not to mention vampires. And the security system will be the best money can buy.”
“Lord Ferroux’s security was also the best money can buy,” Dante pointed out. “And yet you still managed to get in and out of his estate.”
“How did you—” My blood pressure spiked and I clenched my jaw as I tried to bring it back down. Who cared how he knew anything? He wouldn’t give me a straight answer anyway. I let out the breath I was holding and tried to speak calmly. “If you know about that, then you also know we failed. We only made it out of there by the skin of our teeth, with fuck all to show for it.”
“You made it out with your lives,” Dante pointed out. “I’d say that’s something. More than most people who try to rob a vampire lord. Ferroux was on his way to becoming an Elder. The humiliation of being unable to catch you almost ruined him entirely.”
“Well, then at least one good thing cam
e from that mess,” I muttered. “I saw enough of that guy while we were planning the heist to know I never want to see him in a position of power.”
“Quite,” Dante replied, the corner of his mouth turning up in a small smile. Was that approval in his eyes? “Well, you need never worry about him coming to power now. Someone spread a rumor that your heist wasn’t a failure after all, but that you’d stolen information on a powerful weakness of his. He’ll never gain a footing in the court again, not with that potential blackmail hanging over him.”
“Whatever,” I said with a shrug. “I didn’t spread any rumors. I just botched a job I never should have taken and nearly got myself and my whole crew killed. I’m not about to risk my life on a job that we’re even less likely to pull off.”
“Are you certain you have any other option?” Dante asked casually. I brandished the taser again. He rolled his eyes. “I am not threatening you. For goodness sake, why would I need to? I’ve seen your bills. And the abominable state of your kitchen. A blind man could see that you’re out of options. What happens when you lose this apartment? Or the next time DCF pays a visit and discovers that you can’t keep food in the house?”
Anger and panic flared within me and I gripped the stun gun so hard it creaked.
“Get out,” I said, my voice low and even. “Now.”
“I am trying to offer you a way out.” Dante’s impatient huff just made my anger more intense. “You’re going to end up stealing again anyway at this rate. Wouldn’t you rather just do this one job and be done with it?”
“I said get out!” I snarled, my grip on my temper failing. I swung at him with the taser and he darted off the couch to avoid it.
“Fine!” he said, hands up. “Fine. Have it your way. Feel free to call me if you change your mind.”
He straightened his clothes, then pulled a cream colored business card from his blazer and placed it on the end of the coffee table. When I refused to even look at him he backed away to the front door.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, opening the door. “I hope I’m wrong. I hope you find a way to make it work. But I wouldn’t bet on it.”
He shut the door behind him. I almost wished he had slammed it, but he wouldn’t even give me that satisfaction. He’d left the fancy tea set behind. I snatched one of the cups and hurled it against the wall, watching it shatter into a million pieces with an ugly kind of pride. I grabbed another, then the stupid tiny plates, then the whole fucking pot, throwing them like the tantrum that had seized me. Broken porcelain glittered, the sound like angry music, the crashing of furious piano keys. A few seconds of glorious cathartic destruction.
And then there was nothing else to break and it was just me, sitting alone and feeling stupid watching the expensive tea run down my walls. That tea set probably would have got me two hundred dollars at the pawn shop. Now it was just an embarrassing mess I had to clean up before Aaron got home.
***
I couldn’t get the tea stains off the wall no matter how I scrubbed. To my relief, Aaron didn’t even ask, just muttered something about homework and went to bed. I told myself I’d tell him about losing my job tomorrow, but it tasted like a lie.
I slept badly and spent the next day putting in job applications and pouring over the budget and our bills, trying to find a way to make this work. I couldn’t let the utilities get shut off. DCF wasn’t as hard on me as they had been when I’d first taken custody of Aaron, but I was still on their radar. If I couldn’t keep the lights on they might try to take him again. I could drop the internet plan maybe? The phone plan would cost more to cancel than the regular monthly bill, so that was out. Half my communication with Aaron was done via text anyway. I didn’t have cable or car payments, but rent and Aaron’s tuition ate so much of the budget on their own, even with the scholarship covering the bulk of the payments...
The worst kind of anger is like hunger. You can feel it like an emptiness in your gut, making you weak and tired. Helpless, directionless, gnawing away. It makes you want to scream, or tear your hair out in frustration, or sleep forever. But whatever you do, it won’t change anything or make the anger go away. It just stays, hopeless and pointless, eating away at you till it feels like there’s nothing left. There’s no one to fight, nowhere to run, no way to stop the machine that you’re caught in from grinding you under its gears.
I keep groping around in this pit that used to be me, wondering when I started digging it, why no one took the fucking shovel out of my hands. But I’m kidding myself. I was born in this hole, and as fast as I dig someone is shoveling dirt in on top of me.
I rubbed my hands over my face. My skin felt too dry and my arms were heavy. The bills lay spread out on the coffee table in front of me, an insurmountable foe. I’d been scrolling through financial aid options on my phone for the last hour, fretting over eligibility and tax records and waiting lists. What time was it, even? I squinted at the darkness outside the window, then at my suddenly too bright phone. Thursday had come and gone and it was the early hours of Friday. Aaron should have been home from school by now. He usually texted me if he had to stay late.
Before I could finish typing out a message to him, the phone rang. Caught off guard, I fumbled to answer the unfamiliar number.
“Ms. Barr?” asked the voice on the other end. Older, male, authoritative.
“Principal Reagan?” My heart stopped as I recognized the voice. What was the administrator of Aaron’s school calling me for? “What’s wrong? Is Aaron alright?”
“Aaron is fine,” the Principal said quickly before I could get wound up. “A few scrapes and bruises. The nurse has already checked him over.”
“What happened?” I demanded, imagining the worst. If this was because of Dante—
“Aaron was in a fight with another student.”
My heart plummeted down through the bottom of my stomach. Principal Reagan kept talking.
“As I understand it, the boys exchanged insults earlier in the day. The other boy claims Aaron attacked him outside the school building when class was let out. Aaron claims the other boy and two of his friends ambushed him as he was leaving. The situation is still under investigation.”
I mumbled something in acknowledgment, trying to process.
“Now, as you know, the school has a strict zero tolerance policy,” he went on. “Which means it’s likely that Aaron will lose his scholarship here.”
“What?” Shell shocked, I nearly dropped the phone. “But that’s not fair! His grades are perfect, he qualifies—”
“Ma’am. With all due respect, zero tolerance is zero tolerance. And this is not the first time Aaron has had disciplinary problems.”
“The other fights happened off campus,” I pointed out quickly. “You said they aren’t part of his record.”
“Regardless, perhaps this is a sign that this school is not the right learning environment for him. Aaron might be more successful in a school with students he has... more in common with.”
“No!” I could barely hear him over my pulse in my ears, watching Aaron’s future fall apart in front of me. “Aaron needs to be there! He’s a good kid, he’s just—he has trouble controlling himself sometimes.”
“Ms. Barr—”
“Listen! He’s staying in that school. I’ll pay the rest of his tuition myself.”
“Ma’am, someone in your position—”
“Don’t tell me about my position! I’ll pay his god damn tuition and any other stupid hoops you want me to jump through. He’s not leaving that school.”
Principal Reagan sighed.
“I suppose we’ll see. Aaron is waiting in the nurse’s office if you could come and pick him up.”
***
I walked Aaron home in silence, not trusting myself to speak. My stomach felt hollow, and I was afraid that if I opened my mouth I would see smoke. Aaron’s left eye was swollen shut, his lip bloody. A bandage hid an ugly scrape on the side of his fac
e from when the other boys had ground his face into the pavement. When I’d got to the school the nurse had still been picking gravel out of it. He walked with his head low. I’d expected indignation, defensiveness, but I could feel his shame.
We were on our street before Aaron spoke.
“This is a good thing,” he said quietly. “We couldn’t afford that school anyway.”
I closed my mouth tighter, saying nothing.
“I’m old enough to start working now anyway,” he continued. “It’s better for both of us if I get a job.”
“Don’t be stupid,” I snapped, and saw him flinch, then square his shoulders stubbornly.
“Why not?” he demanded. “You were my age when you dropped out!”
“Because I had to support your ass,” I reminded him. “I didn’t have a choice. What’s your excuse? Some rich Mundie bastards were mean to you?”
“That’s bullshit and you know it!”
“We’re not discussing this. You’re staying in school.”
“With what money?” Aaron shouted. “You’re the one being stupid!”
“Stop yelling,” I hissed. “We’re in the middle of the street.”
“We’re going to end up homeless because you won’t give up on this stupid college thing that’s never going to happen anyway!” Aaron went on shouting. I walked faster, just trying to get us home where it would draw slightly less attention. “How do you think I’m going to get a scholarship when we’re living on the street?”
“I’ll figure it out,” I said through clenched teeth. “As long as you keep your grades up—”
“Yeah, and then what? You bleed yourself dry and get me to some cheap ass Mundie state college and I, what, I get a degree and a mundane job and just... forget what we are? I’m supposed to just spend the rest of my life pretending to be normal?”