Stunned and feeling half dead, I lay in a flattened tulip bed, waiting for Mr. Kirov to come and finish the job.
I heard my mother’s voice: “Was there another one, Ivan?” When she said his name, it sounded more like “Evan.”
“I thought so, but a vampire would have made that jump. It was just an Igor. It landed over there somewhere.”
“Shouldn’t we make sure he’s all right?”
“If it’s still alive, the vampires will take care of it,” he said, and then added ominously, “One way or another.”
Wow, he was cold. Yet, I had to bite my tongue to fight the urge to croak out an inappropriate Monty Python reference, “Hello? Not dead yet!” Instead, I decided my best defense was just to lie perfectly still. As it happened, that was about all my body could manage.
“I told you they know something about all this,” Mom said.
“And I told you my opinion.”
“Yes, well, your plan seems to boil down to ‘kill them, kill them all,’ Ivan. That hasn’t worked out very well so far.”
“It would with the talisman.”
I’d been ready to snicker at Mom’s evil-overlord rant, but Mr. Kirov’s words froze my throat dry. Was that how they planned to deal with their “vampire problem”? Bind everyone’s will and then slaughter every last one?
That was too horrible. No way would my mom go for that. Right, Mom? Mom?
But she had no reply.
Chapter Ten
The mud under the crushed tulips had seeped into my jeans by the time I felt ready to move. My entire body ached, though I didn’t think I’d broken anything beyond my shattered pride and about a zillion stems of our neighbor’s prized flowers. “A vampire would have made that jump,” I repeated in Mr. Kirov’s snotty tone.
And they never even came to check on me!
Seriously, what kind of soulless monsters left a kid for dead—or vampire food? Apparently my mom and her cronies, that’s who, because they went back to their League of Evil conference in the carriage house without a backward glance. I pulled myself upright with some effort. My knees wobbled and my back felt like a huge mass of bruises. With scraped fingers, I picked branch bits and tulip shreds from my hair.
I had to find Elias.
This was too important to wait for him to wander by and happen to notice socks sticking out of my window. I had to go underground.
Though my mom and her pals clearly couldn’t have cared less about whether I lived, I took care to walk around the far side of the neighbor’s garage so as not to be easily spotted. Mr. Kirov might change his mind about letting me live if he knew I planned to report back to the vampire prince. I did not want to deal with Nikolai’s dad again. I was so mad at him, I might bite him. Making things up with Nik would be really hard if I sucked his dad’s blood. Even if he totally deserved it.
I limped down the alley, and when I reached the sidewalk, I wondered what became of my luckless red-haired stalker. Had Mom chased him off with magic? Did he get away?
I’d have to worry about him later. My biggest problem right now was figuring out the best way to get to the vampire underground. Once, Elias had taken me down a manhole. From there we’d walked along an abandoned railroad tunnel to some natural cave formation and the remains of an underground river. There was no way I could navigate through all that again.
However, I remembered that the rail tunnel eventually opened up in the train yard in Lowertown. Maybe I could find my way back there.
I headed to the nearest bus stop that would take me into downtown. Underneath the T sign was a concrete bench. Even though the wooden-slat seat was dotted with moisture, I sank down onto it gratefully. As I waited for the bus, I made an inventory of my injuries. Scraped knee, check. Banged elbow, check. Sore ribs. Scratched arms and fingers. Aching back. Check, check, check, and check.
I was inspecting individual cuts when the bus pulled to a stop in front of me, warm air escaping from the door as it swished open. After digging the fare from my pocket and dropping it in the slot, I took the first seat available. Hardly anyone was riding on a Saturday evening. There was a black woman in nursing scrubs reading a paperback novel next to the window, and an old white guy with Gandalf eyebrows and a shapeless green parka in the back.
It was a short, progressively downhill ride. St. Paul was built along a river valley, and nowhere was it more evident than as you traveled downtown. The angle of the descent could be seen in the slant of the skyscrapers’ foundations. Skyway pedestrian walks connected one building’s second floor to the next’s third.
I got off near the Radisson Hotel on Kellogg. Pointing my nose toward Lowertown, I continued along the sidewalk, my knees feeling the sharp decline in every step. What little nightlife St. Paul had to offer was here in the insular, hidden depths of the city. The open door of a windowless bar let out the smell of stale beer and the jangle of blues piano.
Continuing downward, I passed modern, cavernous parking garages and stately office buildings with faded advertisements etched in century-old brick.
The street made a curve that angled sharply downward. I followed it under a road that seemed private—or forbidden. A barge blew its foghorn out on the Mississippi, just beyond the bright lights of the Wabasha Bridge. Seagulls wheeled overhead.
Highly industrial buildings gave way to patches of tall grass and garbage. The river’s fishy smell competed with the city’s diesel scent of urine and homelessness. The traffic noise hushed to a distant whisper. A boxcar, sprayed garish with graffiti, sat alone on a nearby track.
I’d found the train yard, at least.
Shoving my hands in my jeans pockets, I looked both ways down the tracks. I thought maybe I’d emerged near the river, which made sense given the cliffs there. So I turned in that direction. Though the sun had never come out from under the heavy cloud cover, the sky grew darker.
Above, the windows of office buildings glowed faintly in strange square patterns. Pop cans and discarded fast-food cups lay tangled in the tall grasses and wild purple and yellow clover that grew along the tracks. I kicked one of the cans. It made a hollow noise as it skittered across the cracked and crumbling pavement.
Next time I had any money, I was going to buy Elias a cheap cell phone.
After a couple more blocks, I saw the tunnel. It was just as I remembered it. Gang graffiti spattered every surface, even bleeding into the sandstone. The stench of piss was strong enough here that I rubbed my nose. At least no one seemed to be hanging around. I jumped onto the tracks and walked along the ties, stumbling on gravel until I found the right gait to hit wood every time.
The entrance was blocked by boards and chain-link fencing. But there was an area that had been dug by many hands that was just large enough for someone slender to wriggle under. Trying not to think about the additional stains I was getting on my jeans, I pushed myself under. My shirt snagged a bit on the rough underside of the fence, but I managed to pull free without tearing anything—much.
Inside, the cave smelled dank. Broken whiskey bottles and crushed beer cans lined the walls, almost like temple offerings. The ceiling was high, but it took only a few steps before the outside light vanished completely. I was surrounded by dark.
Man, I hoped like hell this was the right place.
Since I’d forgotten a flashlight, I was going to have to get a little vampy in order to see. That seemed like a good idea, regardless. The tunnel kind of screamed “serial-killer hangout” and I could use a boost of strength and speed to my advantage if I ran into anyone.
I rubbed my sore elbow, and Mr. Kirov’s snotty assessment of my skills came back to me. Could I help it if I was only half vampire? And maybe jumping rooftops was like any sport—I sucked at it, and, you know, maybe I’d get better with practice.
My fangs dropped, and the tunnel came more clearly into focus. Though with the absence of living things, vamp vision didn’t help all that much. In fact, it seemed only to heighten the creepy factor of the place.
The moist cold sank deeper into my skin, and my sense of smell sharpened. Now, too, the black maw of the cave seemed that much deeper, and I could discern all the evidence of human traffic—a single shoe, cigarette butts, and crumpled food wrappers strewn along the rails.
Great. I was beginning to think that being half vamp came only with all the disadvantages and none of the cool.
But without it, I surely would have walked right past the narrow fissure in the wall. I smelled the water first, and the warm, animal scent of a bunch of sleeping bats. Squeezing through the crack, I heard the soft trickle of a brook. The walls narrowed and lost their man-made smoothness. Above, I could see the bits of rubble the city had used to fill in the river canyon when they decided to pave over the top of it. I ducked nervously as I picked my way along, though the ceiling had stood for at least a century.
Before long, I met the sentry.
He was stationed at a natural bend, so it was impossible for me to spot him until we stood face-to-face. In his hand he held a long stick; its tip had been sharpened to a nasty point. Lanky hair obscured his eyes, but somehow he recognized me.
“Ana?” he said in surprise, but then remembering protocol said, “Princess Ana, do you approach the kingdom?”
It took me a moment to figure out that the sentry was the same Igor that I’d talked to at the bus stop the day Nik’s band played at the assembly. “Hey, uh, you.” I felt so stupid. Why hadn’t I asked his name before? “Um, I need to talk to my dad. Is he around?”
“The prince is holding court,” he said, scratching the mop of his hair nervously. “I’ll have to get someone to announce you properly. Can you ... uh ... ?” He held out the pointy stick.
I didn’t take it. “Oh, you want me to watch the door? What do I do if someone comes?”
“I won’t be that long. It should only take a minute.”
Of course, if I took over, that was when the barbarian horde would choose to attack. “Can’t I just go in?”
He seemed to be considering my ability to fend off marauders too. Finally, he shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” In a more formal tone, he added, “You are free to pass.”
“Cool.” I smiled. “Thanks, uh—”
“Noah,” he said with a slight bow.
“Thanks, Noah.”
Did I tell you before about how weird vampires are? Probably the oddest part is all the nudity. And even knowing the vampire tendency toward wandering around au naturel, I was never quite prepared for the shock.
Especially when I saw my dad.
In fact, the sight of Dad in all his glory perched on a stone formation that vaguely resembled a throne was almost enough to make me turn back around and walk home. It was really difficult to stifle the urge to whine, “Dad! Get some clothes on!” because, really, I was the odd one out by not hanging out everywhere.
It was sort of like that dream you have where you show up to school without a shirt, only here I was in real life, surrounded by naked people, with my clothes on.
When I got over being scandalized by the multitude of fleshy bits, I heard what Dad was talking about. His voice reverberated with authority in the cave. “What do my scouts report? What news of the talisman?”
Oh! I’d come at the perfect time. I raised my hand. “I’ve got news,” I shouted.
From the horrified looks everyone gave me, this was apparently not the proper way to get the attention of the prince. My dad looked all disapproving until he realized I was the idiot who hadn’t received her copy of Vampire Court Manners for Dummies.
“Approach the throne, Princess Anastasija Ramses Parker. Speak your piece.”
The crowd parted for me to make my way to where Dad sat. There, just in front of his feet, the brook emptied into a dinner plate–sized sinkhole. As I got closer, I could see that the water had hollowed out a larger basin several feet farther down. If a person could squeeze through, it looked like it would probably lead to a huge underground lake complex.
“Cool,” I muttered.
Dad cleared his throat.
“Oh, right.” Despite my actor training, I felt suddenly nervous talking in front of everyone. That trick of imagining the audience naked was so never going to work again. So instead I stared at my dad’s uncovered feet. His toes were kind of hairy and the nails needed trimming, but it was much easier to focus on something almost-sort-of normal like that. “Look, I think I have bad news. I’m pretty sure that Mom has the talisman, and Mr. Kirov—uh, the hunter, I mean—wants to use it to kill everybody.”
In theater terms, the house erupted. Everybody started shouting. My dad had to stand up—Oh, don’t do that! Look at the toes! Look at the toes!—and motion for everyone to simmer down.
“Tell us how you came to this conclusion. Spare no detail.”
So I told my dad’s big toe the whole story; the only part I left out was my embarrassing bounce off the neighbor’s garage. Yet, when my dad questioned me further about how I made my escape, I ended up confessing even most of that.
I got a little sympathy chuckle from the audience when I told the details of my crash landing. Even though I wanted to point out it was a lot more painful than funny, I had to admit it made for a good yarn—not unlike Lane’s opening-night disaster.
After I was finished, Dad lapsed into a thoughtful silence. Even without looking around, I could tell the whole room waited on their sovereign’s opinion. Finally, I heard Dad say, “What’s your take, Constantine?”
Constantine? That was Elias’s last name. Was Elias here? Did I dare look? Did he have clothes on?
When I looked around, I couldn’t see him at first. But everyone in the room was staring in the direction of the far wall. Elias stood on a rock shelf, his arms outstretched. Heavy iron manacles bound his wrists to the wall. He was only half naked—stripped to the waist—which somehow made him seem more vulnerable.
My hand flew to my mouth, hiding a gasp.
“You know my feeling on the matter, Your Highness,” Elias said calmly, as if he weren’t wrapped up in chains and on display like an animal. “We should attack while there remains any hope of a tactical advantage.”
“But if they hold the talisman, how can you fight them? Won’t they just, you know, ‘zap,’ and you’re, uh—” I stopped because I was going to say “in chains,” which was suddenly awkward. Also, I hadn’t meant to say any of it out loud. It just sort of slipped out.
What I really wanted to know was how they could stand to treat Elias like that when they had been slaves themselves only a couple hundred years ago. I also needed to figure out how to get him down from there. I tried to catch Elias’s eye, but he stared resolutely forward, holding his anguish proudly in check.
“You see, this is the traitor’s problem,” Dad said to me, but his words were clearly directed at Elias. “He thinks he knows best for the people, but he doesn’t consider the long view, the consequences of rash action.”
I bristled. I didn’t even notice Dad’s nakedness anymore, and glared angrily into his face. Who was he to talk about rash actions? Apparently, he wanted to do nothing—nothing other than casting Elias in chains!
“I didn’t say it was wrong. I just wanted to know what the plan was,” I shot back defiantly.
Dad’s expression hardened. I could see that he wasn’t used to one of his subjects mouthing off. Well, I wasn’t one of his vampire minions. I was his daughter. If he wanted to throw me in chains, I’d like to see him try.
I planted my feet firmly apart, and stared back. Dad was the first to look away, but in case I’d thought I’d won, he said in a smug sort of tone that implied that he knew best, “Of course you’d defend Constantine. You still consider him your betrothed. But he is in disgrace, and that arrangement has been nullified.”
Nullified? Hushed surprise rippled through the court. My jaw hung open. Did my dad just break me and Elias up? “That’s not fair. And anyway, I don’t agree. No. I don’t accept.”
“Perhaps you should have considered that wh
en you counseled treason.”
“Which you wouldn’t know anything about except that I told you,” I reminded him. Though shame heated my cheeks at my betrayal of Elias, anger narrowed my eyes. “Just like you wouldn’t know anything about Mom’s plans if I hadn’t hiked all the way down here to your creepy-ass lair to give you this information you’re not even going to do anything with. Which is lame. Elias is right—you’re kind of a do-nothing. And you know what? I risked my life with the hunter. You owe me.” Without looking at him, I pointed in Elias’s direction. “Let him go.”
All around me, I heard gasps. My dad listened to my rant, his face dotting with color, but he kept his lips pressed thinly together and quirked his eyebrow haughtily. It was clear no one had talked to him like this in centuries. But I was winning. In my peripheral vision, I could see sympathetic eyes turning toward Elias. My dad noticed too.
He tried, however, to act distant, as he said, “Even if I give in to your petty demand, I will not let you court him; do you understand?”
I was so angry, my whole body shook. Words just came tumbling out. “Oh, I understand. I understand you’re a jerk, and, betrothed or not, Elias is my friend and he doesn’t deserve to be treated that way.”
I’d clearly pushed him too far. I could see Dad’s fists clench.
“Maybe the two of you would prefer banishment?”
Collectively, the vampires gasped. I had no idea what banishment entailed, but there was no way I was backing down now. Still, I’d caused Elias enough trouble, so I shook my head sadly, and said, “This is such a dumb time to kick out your best knight, but whatever. I’m leaving. Elias can decide for himself what he wants.”
“I go with Anastasija.”
Elias’s declaration caused the court to utter more astonishment. Some people even shouted, “No, you can’t!” and “Our best knight! All is lost!”
My dad rose to his feet again. When he raised a hand, there was utter silence. Slowly, his gaze swept the room, lingering on Elias and me. Then he turned his back to us. “Elias Constantine, you are released from service. Anastasija Ramses Parker, you are no longer under our protection.” Then he said something very solemn in a language I didn’t understand.
Almost Final Curtain Page 15