by Anton Strout
“You have a real problem with him, don’t you?” I asked.
“Other way around,” Aidan said. “I think he has a problem with me.”
Beatriz leaned forward. “You know me and Nicky were an item, right?”
Suddenly, Nicholas’s reaction to Aidan’s name made sense. It seemed even vamps were capable of trading up in the dating world. Beatriz had given up the architect to be with one of Brandon’s enforcers. I didn’t see the appeal. Maybe she had been instructed to babysit Brandon’s bargaining chip.
“Beatriz and Nicholas are old news,” Aidan said, bristling a bit. He threw his arm protectively around Beatriz and pulled her back on the couch toward him. As the two of them started pawing at each other, I tried to stop them with conversation. I tapped Connor on the arm and then looked over at Aidan.
“So have you boys been getting to know each other?” I asked. “Did you hit the mall outside this little faux fortress? Maybe a little retail therapy at the Hot Topic, buy yourself a skull-and-bones hoodie to match?”
Aidan scowled at me from within his hood. He looked over at Connor and pointed to me. “Dude. You want him to live, right?”
Connor nodded. “I’d prefer the kid that way, yeah.”
“Way to side with your broth . . .” I said, but Connor clapped me on the shoulder, stopping me midsentence.
“Wait,” I said, looking at him. “He still doesn’t know? You haven’t told him yet?”
A little of the graveyard craziness from the other night returned to Connor’s eyes. “I’ve just been trying to get to know him a little first, you know? He’s been telling me all about these dreams he’s been having that led him to me . . . Sounds like real prophetic stuff.”
“Maybe if you told him what you know,” I said to Connor, “it might jar his memory a bit.”
Connor shook his head, looking almost afraid to break the strange spell of bonding between them by confronting reality.
“You want me to tell him?” I said, turning to Aidan. “Cause I’ll do it, no problem.”
“Tell me what?” Aidan asked.
I went to speak but Connor grabbed my arm. “No, wait!” he said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small folded square of paper. “I’ll tell him.” He unfolded it and smoothed out the creases. It was a picture of Connor and Aidan back from their days on Cape Cod as children. He handed it to Aidan. “This is a picture of us, back in the day.”
Aidan held the picture gently, as if he were afraid it might crumble. “I don’t get it,” he said
“We’re brothers,” Connor said. “My last name is Christos, too.”
“Really?” Aidan gazed at the picture. “Do we look alike?”
Connor nodded. “Very.”
Aidan turned to Beatriz and showed her the picture. “I mean, I don’t remember what I looked like before and we’ve got that whole no-reflection thing going on, so I don’t really know, but for real?”
Beatriz nodded. Aidan stared at Connor.
“If it helps,” Connor said, bursting into a bigger smile than I had ever seen on him, “just think of me as your mirror. Take a couple of the wrinkles off of my face, and probably the white stripes in my hair . . . and lose about twenty pounds. You might get an idea of what you look like then.”
Aidan couldn’t stop looking at Connor.
I looked at Aidan. “I saw you once, you know.”
He looked nonplussed. “Where?” he said. “Around the city? I’m pretty sure there was only that night when you and your girlfriend chased me from Connor’s apartment back to here.”
“No,” I said. “Not then. I saw you in the past.”
Aidan’s face lit up. “Oh, yeah?”
I nodded. “This was back before your little sun allergy kicked in. You only looked a couple years younger than you do now, even though it’s been—what?—twenty years? It was like that picture you’re holding, down on Cape Cod. You were dragging your brother across a parking lot at one of the beaches. He got all scraped up. You felt awful.”
“That sounds . . . a little bit familiar,” Aidan said, smiling, his fangs giving it a little menace. “I wish I remembered more.”
Connor sat forward in his seat. “Do you remember when we cut open Stretch Armstrong to find out what was inside him? Or those little wax candy bottles of juice our family used to get us at that old penny-candy store down in Sandwich?”
Aidan shook his head. He got up and went to a large trunk along one of the stone walls of his chamber. He threw it open and began fishing through mounds of keepsakes. It reminded me of an old pirate chest, but one full of modern trinkets. When Aidan stood from it, he walked back over to us and sat down.
“This,” he said, opening his hand, “this is the first thing I remember owning, but like I said, I have no memory of it.”
A shiver went down my spine. In his hand Aidan held a Batman PEZ dispenser.
“Oh, I know PEZ dispensers,” I said with a grin. “Don’t I, Connor?”
Aidan looked blankly at the two of us. “I don’t get it,” Aidan said.
“About a year ago,” Connor said, “I walked into our work with a Spider-Man PEZ dispenser, not even sure why I owned it or what it meant. Simon here was able to tell me when it was from. It was from one of the summers you and I shared on the beach.”
“I’m confused,” Aidan said. He looked at me. “When you said you saw me in the past, what are you talking about?”
I was already peeling off my gloves. “Let me show you,” I said. “You might not be able to recall your memories, but I can.”
I held out my hand and Aidan put the Batman PEZ dispenser in it. I closed my fist around it and pushed my powers into it. An image flared to mind immediately, the bright light of the sun at the shore blinding me. I was the older of two boys playing on the crowded beaches of Cape Cod, clearly the brothers Christos. Connor looked to be about twelve, which meant Aidan must have been around fourteen. While the wind whipped salty air through their mops of sandy brown hair, Aidan consented to let his little brother bury him in the sand, sliding his new Batman PEZ dispenser into the pocket of his swim trunks. Riding along in Aidan’s body, I felt his love for his little brother and, annoying as it was lying there getting buried, Aidan was happy to do it. Connor’s face had a pure happiness I had never seen in the grown version of it. He ran to the shore with a bucket, bringing back load after load of water to make the sand wet for packing Aidan tight underneath it, laughing all the way.
Aidan was buried practically up to his neck as Connor ran for the shore to get his next bucket. I felt something slithering over Aidan’s encased body, feeling the boy’s curiosity kick in. He wondered if there were such things as sand snakes. The sensation changed as if they were growing, and Aidan started to panic when he realized what they were. Arms encircling him from below, arms with no body attached to them. He went to scream, but a hand clamped down fully over his mouth, blocking the sound. Aidan was being pulled under, floating down into the sand as if it were water. He struggled but it was no use against the several sets of arms coiled around him. Looking up, he could see Connor far above him, looking at the spot where Aidan had been moments ago, the bucket dropping from his hand.
When Aidan finally gave in to the sensation, he drifted until he felt himself being raised to the surface, coming up in a field of tall weeds on the edge of a vacant area of parking lot. Two men speaking in a tongue I barely recognized as Romany were waiting for the boy, one of them incanting a spell. When he stopped, arms began to fade away but not before the other man drew duct tape across the boy’s mouth and wrists. The back of an open van stood nearby and the two men grabbed Aidan, throwing him into it before getting in and driving away.
I’d seen enough and pulled myself out of the vision.
Aidan, Connor, and Beatriz were all staring at me.
“You look kind of creepy when you do that,” Beatriz said.
“What did you see, kid?” Connor asked.
I recounted to them what I had jus
t seen. When I mentioned young Aidan thinking about sand snakes, the vampire Aidan gave a grim smile.
“Sand snakes,” he repeated. “I remember that.”
“Damn gypsies,” Connor said. He put an arm on his shoulder. “What about the rest of it?”
“I sort of recall that,” Aidan said, his eyes filled with wonder. “It all still feels like a dream that happened to someone else, but I have a memory of that.”
Connor patted him on the shoulder and leaned back. Beatriz remained by Aidan’s side, stroking his hair to comfort him.
There was a knock at Aidan’s door, and he sprung up in a flash and was off to answer it. Before I could turn to see who it was, Brandon and Aidan were already back and standing in the center of the room. Beatriz stood as well.
“Gentlemen,” Brandon said with a nod of his head. He took Beatriz’s hand and kissed it. “Lady Beatriz.”
“It’s like going out to the Medieval Times in Jersey,” I whispered to Connor.
Aidan laughed from where he stood across the room. “Hey, dick. Vampiric hearing in the house. Remember?”
Brandon shot him a look, and the laughter died on Aidan’s lips as his face turned somber.
“Am I interrupting something?” Brandon asked.
“I’m remembering parts of my past,” Aidan said, excited.
Brandon raised an eyebrow. “Really, now? How?”
Aidan nodded. “Well, Simon’s doing the remembering for me,” he said, “but he’s triggering some things for me. I remember parts of the day I was taken, for instance.”
Brandon looked confused, then pointed at me. “He did that?”
“I did,” I offered. Brandon turned his full attention to me, his eyes engaging mine to the point I almost felt like he was trying to glamour an answer out of me.
“Mr. Canderous,” he asked, “forgive me, but what exactly is it that you do with the Department of Extraordinary Affairs?”
“I’m a psychometrist,” I said, holding up my hands and wiggling my fingers. “I read the history of objects by touching them.”
“I see,” Brandon said, steepling his fingers in front of his lips. It looked like he was holding back a laugh. “Interesting.”
Connor stood up, looking a little defensive. “What’s so funny?”
“It seems we may have been so busy concentrating on the brothers Christos in all our prophecy-related endeavors that a very intriguing piece of data may have been overlooked. I believe that Mr. Canderous may be part of what the prophecy spoke of. I believe he might be the one sent to save us all.”
“Hold on,” I said, perking up. “Go back there a second. It sounded like I’m a part of this grand plan of Lord Vampire here.”
“Oh, yes,” Brandon said. “I think the council would say that you’re quite important.”
“Me?” I said, laughing. “Why the hell would they think that? Because I’m good at dragging my girlfriend and my work partner into a vampire lair? The only one who’s going to think that’s important is the Enchancellors back at my office when they kick me out on my ass for fraternizing with the enemy.”
Connor put his hand on my shoulder to calm me. “Why do you think Simon’s important?” he asked.
“Our people have this book,” Brandon said, his face growing a little dark. “I keep it in this safe in my room. It’s older than dirt and a lot of what it tells us covers these prophecies I’ve mentioned. I ignored it for centuries, so intent on living a hellacious vampiric life, but all that changed a couple of decades ago. After the passing of my beloved companion, Damaris—the woman you saw in the painting in my chambers—I found myself wanting answers, so I turned to the book. Some of its pages are missing or have gone missing over the years, making it a bit more cryptic, as if prophecies weren’t cryptic enough to begin with. I studied it, trying to ascertain what the future held for me and my people. From what I was able to divine, it told how taking Aidan all those years ago would ensure that someone would come who could help us. It spoke of someone who would be able to read our book in ways we couldn’t, but the prophecy gave no clue as to who that person would be. When I saw Connor and he looked just like Aidan, I naturally assumed he was the chosen one . . . but hearing about your power, Simon—the ability to ‘read’ objects—the book makes more sense to me now. You were the one the prophecy meant. You can ‘read’ the book for us. You’re the one who’s here to help us.”
I shook my head, my brain unwilling to take it in. “I think maybe you’re reading your book backward, then,” I said. “It’s not that I’m helping you. You vampires are helping me . . . to get Jane back.”
“Yes,” Brandon said, “but I believe you can help us with our book. I shall get it.”
Before I could argue, Brandon blurred out of the room.
Connor walked over to me and I looked over at him. “You know I don’t do the whole prophecy thing,” I told him. “I think they’re all bullshit.”
“Hey,” Aidan said, getting defensive. “You can’t fight the lord of the vampires on this one. If he says you’re supposed to help him, you’re going to help him. As it is written, so shall it be.”
I turned to Aidan. “Shut the hell up,” I said. “I have half a mind to just walk out of here and not look back just to disprove Brandon’s prophecy.”
“You can’t,” Aidan said, looking nervous. He grabbed me by the arm, his grip viselike.
“Hey!” I said, trying in vain to pull away.
“Aidan!” Beatriz shouted. “Let him go!”
“I will,” he said. “Just as soon as I take him up to Brandon’s chamber.”
19
Had I been wandering the halls of the castle, no doubt taking several wrong turns, I would have spent a good half hour finding Brandon’s private chambers. With Aidan dragging me by the arm at vampiric speed, however, we were there in seconds. He threw open the old wooden doors leading into them at the top of the stairs and entered the main room.
The lights were low, candles being the only source of illumination I could see being used. Several figures were at the far end of the room, sitting by the unused flat-screen. They turned to look at us and then returned to their conversation. Evidently, a lowly human being vamp-handled around the castle wasn’t much of a concern for them, which only angered me further. Aidan let go of me. I crossed the floor, pulling out my bat, extending it. I swung at an ebon dancer figurine sitting on one of the many pedestals throughout the room. It sailed end over end across the room, but never hit the ground. One of the vampires blurred into action as he crossed the room, catching it like a football in both hands. In the next instance, one of the other ones was standing in front of me. He looked like a man in his fifties, a tall man who had seen a lot of life . . . or taken it. His hand flashed out and he grabbed my bat, twisting it until something inside one of its three extendable sections popped with a metallic clang.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his eyes full of fury.
There was a commotion behind me as Beatriz and Connor arrived via Vamp Express. The vampire menacing me didn’t even turn to look at them. His eyes remained on me.
I spied Brandon over by a large tricked-out safe with gears all along the outside of it. He turned to look at us, and the vampire in front of me chanced a look at him while keeping me in his sight.
“Shall I dispose of this one, my lord?” the vampire said, the vehemence in his voice digging into me. I could feel the tug of his eyes as he tried to put me in his thrall. Thanks to some of my Fraternal Order of Goodness training, I was able to pull my eyes away, but the fact that he had tried it only increased my fury. I let go of my bat and shoved at the vampire instead. Hitting his chest was like shoving at concrete. The vampire didn’t move, but he seemed absolutely surprised that I had even gone there.
“You can’t dispose of me,” I said, pushing at him once more, again not moving him. “You dicks think I’m some sort of chosen one.” I pushed again. “Which means you need me more than I need you, so
I don’t think you’re going to do shit to me.”
The vampire raised his eyebrows and gave an evil smile. He looked to Brandon. “Is he truly part of the prophecy?” the vampire asked. “Does it say anything about needing all of him? Surely he won’t need both of his arms!”
My hands were in midpush, but I let them fall to my side as the implication of what he was suggesting hit me. I felt the fire of my fury die a little and turned to look at their leader.
Brandon smiled at the vampire, his eyeteeth thankfully retracted. It did worlds to calm me. He looked to the vampire directly in front of me. “That will be enough, Gerard. Give the man his toy back.”
Gerard held my broken bat out and I took it back from him. While Beatriz and Connor crossed the room, I tried to collapse it, but it didn’t want to give. Finally, I pressed the end of it against the floor and leaned my weight on it. Something inside it gave and it collapsed down to its closed state. I thumbed the catch of it to safety lock and hung it from my belt, hoping it would remain collapsed, but I was dubious.
Aidan walked over to Brandon. “I had to bring him here,” he said. “Simon wanted to leave, but I couldn’t allow that, not with the prophecies at stake.”
Brandon looked at me. “I should think you would want to stay,” he said, “prophecy or not. Nicholas tells me there are some complications with freeing your girlfriend from our building’s systems . . . ?”
I nodded, fighting my anger. “News travels fast.”
“At the speed of flight,” Nicholas said, scaring the shit out of me as he stepped out of the pack of shadows that was Brandon’s guests. As usual, he was working very hard not to look at either Aidan or Beatriz. “It appears, as I’ve said, that we have a ghost in the machine.”
Brandon remained calm. “And I trust you’ll be taking care of this situation?” he asked.
“Of course,” Nicholas said. He turned to me, his face serious. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to the building system checks.”
Before I could thank him, Nicholas blurred away out of the chamber.
Brandon changed his focus to me. “You seem agitated,” he said.