“Thank you, dear, but Caroline is coming by to pick me up any minute now,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”
A long day in uncongenial surroundings. In theory, Mother approved of Halloween—she approved of any holiday that involved decorating, and was enthusiastic beforehand about the idea of the festival. She loved the sort of tasteful handmade decorations Martha Stewart was always demonstrating, but the rest of the world so rarely met her expectations. Rubber bats, orange and black crepe-paper garlands, plastic skeletons—in practice, Halloween was one long assault on her decorating sensibilities.
“There’s Caroline now.” Mother’s voice was filled with relief. “You know, if you’re still patrolling, I can take the pies with me.”
“Just as long as you don’t eat both of them before we get home,” I said, as I handed her my box.
“I think I can restrain myself, dear.” She smiled wanly, gave us each a peck on the cheek, and sailed out of the tent toward where Caroline was standing. I suspected that she was probably going to go straight to bed with a cold cloth over her face, but if my teasing helped her keep her head high till then, all the better.
For the next few hours, Michael and I patrolled. Around the square. Back to the parking lot for the car. Out to the haunted house. Out to the zoo. Back to town. Either the news of the murder hadn’t really spread to the tourists or it hadn’t dampened their spirits. I was beginning to wish it had.
The town square seemed to be the favored rendezvous of what we’d come to call the vampire conventioneers—mostly young people in their teens or twenties, dressed almost entirely in black except for small ribbon rosettes pinned somewhere on their costumes. They tended to clump together by ribbon color—so far I’d noticed posses of red, blue, yellow, green, purple, orange, and gray. And they all seemed to spend their time acting out small dramatic scenes, so I’d pegged them as probable LARPers. And also as probably harmless.
“You know,” I said, as we were halfway through another stroll around the town square, “I don’t normally mind watching other people have fun while I’m working. Normally I can sort of share their enjoyment. Having a hard time with that tonight.”
“It’s not watching them have fun that’s a downer,” Michael said. “It’s knowing that some of them might be plotting pranks. Or worse, more murders. Where do you suppose they’re going?”
He was pointing to a trio of black-clad vampires sporting purple and black ribbon rosettes who had taken a sharp right turn at the corner, toward the less crowded parts of town.
“They’re heading toward the campus,” I said.
“Where there’s absolutely no festival activity going on.” He was frowning. Now that he was the heir apparent to the chairmanship of the Drama department rather than a despised rogue professor, he was taking a much more protective attitude toward the college. “The president and the board of trustees were absolutely dead set against hosting any festival events on campus. So where are those jokers going?”
“Maybe they’re students, heading back to their rooms,” I suggested. “Or even out-of-towners staying with friends in the dorms.”
“Maybe.” We had reached the corner where the LARPers had turned. He still looked uneasy.
“So let’s just patrol that way for a little bit,” I suggested.
Chapter 21
The three LARPers had already disappeared from view by the time we turned the corner, so we found ourselves walking through the tree-lined and increasingly quiet streets of the campus. The dorms were about the only place that showed any signs of life, but they didn’t seem any different from a typical Friday night. And once we passed the dorms, the various academic buildings and the lawns surrounding them were absolutely deserted. When we finally reached the far end of the campus we stopped for a moment.
“Are you reassured that the vampires aren’t taking over the campus?” I asked.
“Well, if they are, at least they’re doing it quietly,” he said. “I suppose we should head back.”
“Let’s turn that way,” I suggested, pointing to a road that ran along the outer perimeter of the campus. “And go back by another route.” Another route that would prolong, if only briefly, our time in the peaceful back streets of the campus.
Michael fell in with my suggestion and we walked in companionable silence for a few minutes. Then Michael stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
“That’s odd.” He was peering into the darkness. “There shouldn’t be anyone over there.”
We were in a part of the campus I didn’t know very well. I knew by the signs I’d read that we’d recently passed the Mechanical Engineering building and the Agricultural Sciences building, but I had no idea what was in the direction of Michael’s gaze.
“What’s over there?” I asked.
“The Ag Sci Department’s demonstration barn,” he said. “There shouldn’t be anyone there right now.”
“Not even someone tending the animals?”
“No.” He shook his head slightly. “They were worried that the festival would upset the animals, so they trucked them all out to the main farm over a week ago. The building’s supposed to be locked up tight for the duration.”
“Maybe some cow with a homing instinct got out of her pasture at the main farm,” I suggested.
“And walked ten miles to get back here? With a flashlight?” he added as we spotted a quick flash of light near the barn.
“Let’s check it out.”
We turned into a narrow asphalt lane that led to the barn. Fences ran on either side of the road. I got my bearings back and remembered coming down this lane before. There had been sheep and goats in the left-hand pasture, and at least a dozen different breeds of cow in the right. Now both fields were silent and presumably empty.
The lane opened up into a broad expanse of asphalt—also empty except for a single hulking piece of agricultural equipment. Possibly some kind of seed drill or tiller. Even a first-year Ag Sci student would probably know exactly what it was. All I could tell for sure is that it seemed to have a lot of sharp-looking points and edges so that we’d be better off giving it a wide berth.
We arrived at the broad double barn doors and stopped to listen.
“Rustling noises,” Michael whispered. “There could be someone there.”
“Or the rats could be having a field day while the legitimate occupants are away,” I whispered back.
The door handles were chained together and padlocked. I pointed to a smaller ordinary door to the right of the main entrance.
Michael tried the handle gently.
“Locked,” he whispered.
“Of course,” I said softly. “If I were sneaking in there for some nefarious purpose, I’d probably lock the door behind me to prevent being surprised.”
“And I’d run out the back if anyone rattled the door,” he replied.
“You didn’t exactly rattle it,” I said.
“Yeah, but if they’re listening…”
We looked at each other for a moment.
“Run around and check,” I said. “I’ll guard the front.”
“Is it wise for us to split our forces?” he asked.
“We’re also sending for reinforcements.” I already had my phone out. “I’m calling 911.”
“Good thinking.” He took off running toward the back of the barn as I dialed.
“Hey, Meg, what’s your emergency?” Debbie Ann asked.
“Not sure yet if it is an emergency,” I began. “But—oof!”
Something hit me in the back. I stumbled, dropped the phone, and fell back against the side of the barn.
“What mere mortal dares to trespass on Clan Raven’s territory?”
I looked up to see a tall, gangly young man dressed in black, from his ruffled shirt to his thigh-high boots. The only touch of color was a little rosette of black-and-purple ribbon near the collar of his cloak. He was grinning mirthlessly, probably so I could see his fangs. Even by moonlight they looked a li
ttle fake—not nearly as impressive as Dr. Smoot’s. And he might have made a more plausible vampire if he’d worn a mask to cover his rather extensive acne. Though even without the acne, I’d never have mistaken him for a real vampire.
But the sword he was holding with its point almost touching the hollow of my throat—that was real. Real steel. Blacksmiths—especially ones like me who have done a bit of bladesmithing as well—can tell these things. The metal had an unmistakable satiny sheen to it. And while it made me cross-eyed to look at it, I could see that it had a nasty point. In fact, when his hand wavered a bit, I felt the point break my skin before he drew it back again.
“Mortal—I demand to know why you are trespassing on the ancestral lands of the Raven Clan!” he intoned.
“I heard you the first time.” I decided my best bet was to ignore his game. “And if Clan Raven wants to claim this particular spot as part of their ancestral lands, they’ll have to take it up with the Caerphilly College legal department. Now get out of my way.”
“You dare assert your human laws against the immortal … um … wisdom of the Undying Ones!”
“Goblin Patrol,” I barked. “And you’re the one trespassing. Take that silly little toothpick away from my throat or you’ll be sorry.”
“Silence!” he roared. And then he narrowed his eyes and glowered at me. At my neck actually, where a few drops of blood were trickling down from the cut he’d given me. Was he really trying to make me think he was craving my blood? Or just killing time till he could come up with some more stilted dialogue? I reminded myself that both of our recent murders had been committed with guns, but somehow that didn’t reassure me. It wouldn’t prevent this lunatic from committing murder number three with his sword.
I needed to come up with a plan. Maybe I could back up in the direction of the agricultural machine at the edge of the asphalt and try to impale him on one of the pointy bits? No. Too complicated. And I was already talking as loudly as I could, in the hope that Michael would come along and tackle him.
Maybe a distraction.
“Look,” I began. “If you—”
And then I deliberately broke off and glanced over his shoulder, as if I’d suddenly spotted something. He didn’t completely fall for it and whirl around, but he did take his eyes off me for a few seconds, and that gave me my chance.
“Ay-yi!” I yelled, as my martial arts teacher had taught me so long ago. Fortunately I remembered a few other things he’d taught me. I ducked under the blade and kneed the Clan Raven dude in the groin while grabbing his sword hand with both of mine and twisting. He yelped and doubled over, dropping the sword. I rolled him over on his stomach—he was almost Michael’s height, but weedy, and also, thanks to my knee, in no frame of mind to put up much of a fight. He squirmed a bit until I pulled one of his arms up behind and twisted it enough to be uncomfortable.
“Oww,” he whined. “You’re hurting me.”
“Lie still, then,” I said. “Or I’ll hurt you worse. You’re the one who drew first, remember. What are you doing here?”
He said nothing—just moaned feebly.
I tightened his arm a little.
“Oww!” he yelped. “All right. I’m just here to decorate for the ball.”
“The ball?”
“The vampire ball,” he whimpered. “Tomorrow night. All the clans are coming. And Clan Raven is in charge of decorating.”
“In the barn?”
He nodded.
“You couldn’t just hire a hall?”
Okay, that was a rhetorical question.
Then a voice came out of the darkness.
“You can let him go now, Meg.” Aida Butler. “I’ve got my .38 aimed at him. Of course I didn’t load the silver bullets this morning, but I’m betting Dracula here isn’t immune to lead. Why don’t you get up and find your phone and tell Debbie Ann I’m here.”
“I need to look for Michael.” It worried me that he hadn’t showed up already. I spotted my phone and grabbed it.
“Wait till Vern gets here,” Aida said. “Or let me cuff this creep—”
“I’m here,” said Vern. “Where’d Michael go?”
“Around the back.” I took off in the direction Michael had taken, over a fence into a paddock, and then down the side of the barn until I reached the fence at the other end. There were probably gates but I didn’t want to waste time hunting for them in the dark. Okay, not so dark—Vern’s flashlight came on, just in time to let me avoid stepping in a strategically located manure pile—but I still didn’t want to waste time looking for the gate. “We heard rustling in there,” I said over my shoulder. “In the Ag Sci department’s demonstration barn,” I added, since presumably Debbie Ann might also still be listening on my phone. “So I was guarding the front door while he went around to check on—Michael!”
I ran the last few steps to where Michael was lying on the ground just outside the barn, beside another people-sized door.
“I’m okay,” he said. Then he winced. “Okay, I’m not okay. I think maybe my ankle’s broken. But I’m not dead. The vampires went thataway.”
He pointed away from the barn, where the Ag Sci pastures stretched away into the darkness.
“We’ll round them up later,” Vern said. “We need an ambulance here, pronto,” he added into his police radio. Then he turned back to us. “What happened?”
“I found the door open,” Michael said. “And I went in and surprised half a dozen people dressed like vampires. They were decorating the place—hanging lights and drapes and stuff. When they saw me, they all panicked and ran. One of them fell on her way out the door, and I tripped over her, and—voilà.”
He pointed at his ankle. Vern shone his flashlight on it. The ankle was already grapefruit-sized.
“What’s going on here?” I turned to see Chief Burke climbing over the fence.
“Trespassers in the Ag Sci barn,” Michael said.
“The vampire clans were planning to have their Halloween masked ball here tomorrow night,” I said. “Don’t look at me that way—I didn’t make it up. The vamp wannabe with the rapier told me. He’s on the decorating committee.”
“I don’t doubt you,” the chief said. “That would be the young reprobate Aida has in handcuffs at the other side of the barn? Debbie Ann seems to think he tried to attack you with a sword.”
“What?” Michael exclaimed.
“He tried,” I said, indicating the small wound on my throat. “But then I disarmed him and twisted his arm to tell me what he was doing here.”
“I gather you mean that literally,” the chief murmured. “Let me check this out. And it’s starting to drizzle. Let’s get Mr. Waterston inside where he can be more comfortable till the ambulance arrives.”
Vern and I managed to get Michael up and helped him hobble through the barn door without putting any weight on his foot. We couldn’t help staring at what we saw inside.
“Glory be,” the chief muttered.
The vampire LARPers had transformed the place. They’d hung long lengths of black fabric from floor to ceiling along three of the walls, and I could see a ladder in place where we’d evidently interrupted someone decking the fourth wall. Someone else was starting to hang fairy lights along the already draped walls. At one end of the room was a large table covered with a black tablecloth, while at the other stood a black dais with two chairs sitting on it. The chairs were the only discordant note—although large, they were fairly ordinary armchairs upholstered in scruffy beige fabric. But I could see a heap of black fabric nearby, and I had no doubt that when they finished with the walls they’d have enough left over to camouflage the rather utilitarian chairs and transform them into vampire thrones.
“They’re having a party here?” the chief asked. “Who authorized that?”
“If someone had authorized it, why would they have run away when we confronted them?” I asked.
“Barn’s supposed to be locked tight till the festival’s over,” Michael said.
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“Tell me what happened.” The chief had taken out his trusty notebook.
Michael let me do the talking. As I was doing so, two EMTs arrived and began checking Michael out, which probably made the end of my tale just a bit less coherent than the beginning. Once I’d finished, Michael described the LARPers he’d seen.
“So we’re looking for half a dozen young people dressed up as vampires,” the chief said, with a sigh. “I’m afraid that’s not much help.”
“I can tell you what will help,” I said. “All the people who are playing this game will be wearing those little ribbon rosettes. I’m pretty sure it tells the other players that they’re part of the game, and also which clan they’re in. The Clan Raven people will be wearing black-and-purple rosettes like my assailant.”
“Yes,” Michael said. “Black-and-purple ribbons, definitely.”
“That’s good,” the chief said. “I’ll put out a BOLO for vampires wearing purple ribbons. Meg, why don’t you go down to the hospital with Michael? Once you’re sure he’s okay, come down to the station and we’ll see what kind of charges we’re pressing against these hooligans.”
It sounded like a good idea to me. The EMTs were loading Michael onto a stretcher, over his complaints that all he really needed was a shoulder to lean on. I trotted behind them as they made their way to the other end of the barn, watched as they loaded him into the ambulance, and then, since our car was still over at the college parking lot, hitched a ride on the ambulance to Caerphilly Hospital.
Chapter 22
“He’ll be fine,” Dad said. “A simple fracture. We’re just waiting for Dr. Sengupta to get here.” Apparently only orthopedists were allowed to set bones and apply casts, and Dr. Sengupta, the local orthopedist, had fled to Richmond for the weekend, but had allowed himself to be persuaded by Dad to come back to take care of Michael.
“Why don’t you leave me with your dad?” Michael suggested.
“I’m staying right here until you get your cast,” I said. “And then I’m driving you home.”
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