CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Whatever Happened to Lily Jane?
“Well, that was—”
“A total waste of time?” I said. “Yes, I noticed.” We walked away from Cathy’s house. I was trying not to stomp or kick the grass. I didn’t think it was my decision. How could she say that? I just wanted Cathy not to make the biggest mistake of her life!
Kit patted me on the back. “Not a total waste of time,” he said. “We both scored cookies.”
It surprised a laugh out of me. “I didn’t even eat mine.”
“That’s okay,” Kit assured me. “I had three. One for you, one for me, and one for luck.”
I laughed again. I was glad Kit was with me. If he hadn’t been, I probably would have started stomping. I didn’t know where we were heading. Away was enough for the moment. I lifted my face to the crisp blue sky and took a clean, cold breath of morning air.
“Cathy’s mom has always been strange,” I said. “But I never thought she’d agree to Cathy becoming a vampire. I thought she loved Cathy. What kind of a mother would do that?”
Kit said nothing.
“To let her take such a risk!” I said. “Cathy could die. How could she say her daughter would be better as a vampire? That it’s okay for Cathy to give up everything! To give up laughing—to give up being herself! It’s like she’s saying Cathy’s not okay the way she is now. What kind of a mother would say that?”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit simplistic?” Kit asked, and it dawned on me that his mother was also allowing him to become a vampire.
“Oh,” I said. “Oh, Kit. Crap. I didn’t mean that. I’m sure it’s different for Camille. I mean she is a vampire. Cathy’s mom is human, so—so crap.”
“Ah, the compelling ‘so crap’ line of argument,” Kit said. “A classic.”
His smile was stretched up too tightly at the corners.
I congratulated myself on my famous tact. (People stop and stare and whisper, “There’s Mel Duan. Born completely devoid of the tact gene. A miracle of science.” See? Famous.)
“I’m so sorry, Kit,” I said. “Don’t listen to me. I’m not doing Cathy any good. I’m not doing Anna any good. I’m not doing myself any good. I don’t even know what I want to study in college. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Hey, you’re seventeen,” Kit said. “Some of the most interesting people I know are two hundred and seventeen and still don’t know what they’re doing with their lives. You care about Cathy. She knows that. See? You’re doing fine.”
“Really?” I said.
“Sure. I think you’re wrong about vampires. But Cathy probably is rushing things.” Kit coughed. “I’ve been thinking about transitioning my entire life, and yet since I met you and threw up due to zombies, I’ve discovered it’s a bigger decision than I thought. There’s more to being a vampire than I realized. More to being a human, too. How long has Cathy been thinking about it? A few weeks. You should be concerned. You’re a good friend. As for Anna, sure, you’re doing her good. We detected stuff today, didn’t we? I mean, you detected chains and fingernails, and I sidekicked like a pro. Am I right?”
He kicked the side of my sneaker lightly with his own, and I looked up and saw a real smile.
“I thought your sidekicking needed maybe a bit more practice,” I said, grinning slyly up at him. “But you do show some natural talent. We’ll work on it together.”
We had to kill time until Camille woke up. We must have walked all over the city talking about almost everything.
Kit had a ton of questions about my life and my family, what I liked to do for fun.
But, unlike Francis’s, his questions weren’t about research. They were about me.
Also, Kit laughed at all my jokes.
I told him about fencing, and attempted a demonstration with an invisible saber that earned me some funny looks.
We blew our allowances on hamburgers and fries and way too much ice cream. As dusk fell, we were walking through Lily Jane Memorial Park on our way to the Shade. Lily Jane is my favorite park. A big stretch of real grass, excellent for playing Frisbee or soccer or anything else you wanted to play on a long summer’s day.
Lily Jane Boothby was a little kid in the 1910s with spina bifida. The Boothbys were important people in New Whitby back then. She was dying, and she got turned. The Boothbys had enough money that all the people objecting to six-year-old vampires forgot their objections and wandered off to spend their new money.
It was a mess.
Lily Jane killed fifteen people, including her mother, before the vampires came out of the Shade and took her down.
That was when vampire law enforcement changed from being a motley volunteer bunch to becoming an official branch of the police force. It was also when all the age restrictions were laid down. No one under fourteen gets turned—even terminal patients. You know how most kids don’t understand why they can’t have another cookie? Well, superpowerful kids who never grow up tend to be really bad at understanding why they can’t have another delicious, person-shaped cookie.
Also, I imagine babysitters are hard to find.
Mr. Boothby built the park as an apology to New Whitby, and maybe as an apology to his daughter, too.
There are flower beds in overlapping circles all around the circumference, and at the back of the park, near one of the benches, there’s a statue of Lily Jane.
“She’s cute,” I said.
Kit nodded. “Sad story.”
Birds started to sing. Kit fished his phone out of his pocket.
“Hi, Mom,” he said.
I stood looking at the statue of the little girl, with her stone curls and her hands spreading her skirts in a minicurtsy, while Kit talked to Camille. I may have been slightly eavesdropping, more on his tone than what he was actually saying: His voice went from pleased to quiet and concerned to surprised and a bit annoyed, and then to subdued in the way everyone gets when their mom yells at them.
“What—what did she say?” I asked.
“She said they’re totally aware of the situation. She knows what was in the basement,” Kit said. “And we’re to stop messing around with things that don’t concern us.”
He went over and kicked the base of Lily Jane’s statue.
“I mean,” he continued, “what the hell? Mom’s a policewoman. They’re the police. Isn’t the whole definition of the police ‘People who deal with chains and fingernails and don’t leave them lying around looking suspicious and terrifying’? How are they dealing with it by ignoring it? This makes no sense!”
I looked at Kit, and at the statue of Lily Jane, and thought about the police. It was weird. I mean, surely that was enough evidence to call Principal Saunders in for questioning. Dr. Saunders’s supposed vampire lover was dead, he was missing, his wife was behaving suspiciously, but the authorities hadn’t done anything about it. Why? Then I remembered what Cathy had said about the investigation, about how it might not be official.
“Did Camille say it was an official investigation?”
“What? Um, no, I guess not. Not in so many words.”
“Maybe it isn’t one. Maybe your mom’s doing this on her own time. I mean, Francis is her undercover cop. He’s not exactly undercover material, is he?”
Kit laughed.
“What if she hasn’t been able to investigate the school herself? What if she doesn’t have enough evidence?”
Kit considered. “Mom’s pretty thorough. Even when she’s not doing an official investigation. I mean, Mom’s thorough about how she makes tea.”
“What if your mother left the evidence there so—so Principal Saunders wouldn’t know she was being watched?”
“Why?”
My brain was suddenly whirring, things falling into place at last.
“Because she doesn’t want Principal Saunders to think they’re on to her? What if they’re lulling her into false confidence? What if they want her to lead them to something?”
&nbs
p; “But you said she seems to know that Francis is spying on her—” Kit began.
“Maybe she doesn’t actually know it. Maybe she’s not sure, so she’s just all jumpy because of her guilty conscience and because she really doesn’t like vampires.”
I stepped in closer, grabbing Kit’s arm. “What if they want her to lead them to Dr. Saunders?” I whispered. “Wherever she has him hidden.”
Or buried, said a tiny terrible voice in my mind, but I refused to listen to it.
Principal Saunders had been down there, the day the rats came. The chains being down there could not be a coincidence. She must be doing something wrong.
I wanted Dr. Saunders to not only be alive but to be okay. I wanted Anna to get her father back. I wanted Cathy to see them reunited and to see that I was right sometimes, that I could take care of my friends.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Taking a Running Leap Down the Rabbit Hole
We hadn’t even left the park when my phone let off its fire-alarm wail. Kit looked startled until I pulled the phone out and answered it.
“Hi, Anna,” I said. “How are—”
“I found something,” she replied. “Mel, you need to tell me what’s going on. I think my dad’s dead.”
Anna sounded about as you might expect, having to say that. I gripped the phone hard. “Where are you?”
“At home,” Anna said, her voice wavering. “Mom took off a few hours ago, and you’d left with the keys to the school, and when you came back and didn’t tell me what happened, I got to thinking—”
“I’ll be there as quick as I can. I’m still with Kit. Is it okay if I bring him?”
“Sure,” Anna said, so fast I didn’t even know if she’d taken in the information. “Whatever. Just get here.”
“I’m running. Anna? It’s going to be okay,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure of that at all.
“Anna’s place again?” Kit said as I slipped the phone back into my pocket.
“Yeah. She thinks her dad is dead.”
“Which he could be,” he said, matching my pace.
“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe not.”
I felt so bad for Anna. Should I have told her my suspicions earlier? Now that Anna had said it aloud—I think my dad’s dead—it seemed so much more real. At least I could truthfully tell her that the police, meaning Camille, were investigating. But would that be reassuring? Was anything reassuring when your dad might be dead? Murdered?
I didn’t even want to think about how horrible it would be if Anna’s mother was the one responsible. Anna would have nobody.
No, I told myself, and sped up. She’d still have me.
But I kept hearing Cathy’s voice in my head, and I knew I wasn’t enough. Nobody could be a good enough friend to make up for this discovery, and I was the one who’d helped her make it.
“Consider me faithfully sidekicking,” Kit said when we had to stop to cross the road and he had breath to speak. “We’ll figure this out.” His smile flashed out at the same time as the walking-man light turned on. “You know, you’re good at this.”
“I’m a tireless crusader for truth and justice,” I agreed. “Green means go. C’mon!”
We were running past the corner of Le Fanu Avenue and Third when Kit grabbed my elbow. I looked at him inquiringly. He’d been keeping up so far.
He didn’t look out of breath, though. He looked serious.
“I was wondering,” he said in a rush, as if he’d been holding the words back for a while. “After I become a vampire. I was wondering if you’d still want to see me.”
“No,” I said without pausing.
Kit stood stricken.
Not for the first time that day, I kind of wanted to punch myself in the face.
“I mean,” I said, talking fast partly to get it all out and partly because I had to get to Anna, “I mean … I do mean no. I wish I’d put it in a nicer way. I get—I’m starting to get that vampires are people. I know Camille’s your mom. She seems great. I don’t want to say anything bad about them. But a vampire wouldn’t be for me. Not growing up, not seeing the sun, not having every bit of life: laughter, food, the highs and the lows of being alive. That’s something I don’t understand and I never will. It’s like choosing to watch a movie that’s stuck on pause.
“I couldn’t do it. And being with a vampire? You’d never laugh at any of my jokes. I’ll turn eighteen, nineteen, twenty, thirty, forty, but Kit, you’ll be a teenager forever.”
Kit swallowed.
“So when Cathy becomes a vampire,” he said, “she won’t be your friend anymore?”
“Cathy’s not going to become a vampire!” I yelled at him, as if by shouting loud enough I could make it true.
Kit stood there on the corner of two of the busiest streets in the city, people flowing past him, carrying shopping bags, hurrying off to a movie or dinner, living their human lives. He looked wretched.
“Cathy and I have been friends since we were tiny,” I said after a moment. “We’ll always be friends. Nothing can change that. But I’ve only just met you and—I couldn’t stand it. I’m sorry.”
“I’ve only just met you, too,” Kit said. “I’m not going to change the whole course of my life—what I was always meant to be—for you. I can’t. I’m sorry as well.”
I guess there should have been a pause filled with regret then. But we didn’t have time.
“C’mon,” I said. “I mean, if you still want to?”
Kit nodded. “Anna’s waiting. She needs us.”
Cathy was willing to change her whole life for Francis. She would’ve said that if we weren’t ready to change our lives for each other, then Kit and I weren’t meant for each other. I guess that also meant it was best this way and there was no need to be upset.
My throat was tight. I was upset. Even if Kit wasn’t the One.
“Let’s get to Anna’s,” I said, and started running again. Kit ran beside me.
“Can I ask one more question?”
“Sure,” I said, my voice less than steady. I hoped he’d think it was because I was out of breath from running.
“Why is your ring tone a fire alarm?”
Kit had barely closed the door behind us when Anna started talking, her face red and crumpled from crying.
“As soon as Mom left,” she said, “I just, I had to do something. I started looking for something, I don’t know what, and I found … I found …”
She held out a phone. “My dad’s.”
“Oh,” I said.
“It was in the garage. You know what a mess it is. In this box.”
The box was at the foot of the stairs. On top was an old and battered copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.
“The book was my dad’s too. He would never run away without it. It was his mom’s before, and her mom’s before that. He takes it with us on every holiday. He’s taken it on conference trips. He wouldn’t leave it behind.”
I looked down at the book. It was really old. I didn’t know what to say.
“He wouldn’t have left any of this stuff behind.”
Least of all his phone. I’d been right: Someone else had sent those texts to Anna.
I wished I hadn’t been right.
“None of this makes any sense,” Anna said, and her voice wobbled all over the place. “He wouldn’t not call me. He would tell me he was going. He would tell me face-to-face. My dad wouldn’t disappear and then text me about it. He’s not like that. But that means my mom is lying. Why would she lie to me? Why would she hide his stuff?”
I handed the phone to Kit and grabbed Anna in a big hug.
Her shoulder blades felt fragile under my hands. I held her as tight as I could. After a few moments, Anna hugged me back. She started to shake a little. She was crying, her tears making a warm, wet patch on my shirt.
I led her into the living room, still holding her, and we sat on the couch. Anna kept her head buried in my shoulder.
“Should I
make some tea?” Kit asked, showing that he was indeed Camille’s son.
Anna sat up and wiped at her face. Kit handed her a tissue from the box on the coffee table.
“It’s okay,” she said, blowing into the tissue. “I don’t want tea. I want to know what’s going on.”
I told her what I knew and what I suspected from start to finish, including Francis and Camille’s involvement, including Rebecca Jones’s suicide, including the fingernail in the wall.
“Thank you,” she said when I was finished. She was still crying. And really, who wouldn’t be? I tried to imagine how I’d feel if it was my dad. My mind wouldn’t go there.
“I can’t believe I ever thought he ran away with that—that monster!”
Kit winced.
“What was I thinking? How could I doubt my own dad?”
I hugged her again. “Why would you doubt your own mom?” I asked, and then wished I hadn’t.
Anna looked as if she might be sick. “What do you think is going on?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“But you have a theory?”
I swallowed and then spoke. “Maybe your mom’s keeping your dad somewhere. Hiding him?”
“Why would Mom do that?”
“I don’t know,” I said helplessly.
“Why would she lie to me about Dad running away with that thing?” Anna asked.
“I don’t know,” I repeated, realizing how much I didn’t know. I’d been feeling so detectivey. I’d been proud of myself. I’d basked in Kit’s praise. One look at Anna’s face wiped all those feelings away. Nothing I’d done had helped Anna.
“What if they’re holding him?” Anna demanded. “The monsters. The other vampires. What if they’ve got him and they’re holding him hostage, and my mom, she has to do what they say or they’ll kill him?”
“What would they want her to do?” Kit asked. “Vampires aren’t monsters. It’s much more likely that she—”
“Stop it! Shut up!” I shouted. Kit’s face was red, but he shut up. “We don’t know what’s going on,” I told Anna, focusing all my attention on her, “but maybe if we could find your mom? Do you know where she went?”
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