by Gwynn White
“Then how does she know it was Thalia?” Pradish asked.
Lila smiled a little ruefully. “Because as Delilah was collecting her laundry, she said…and I’m quoting here, ‘I’d select no Handmaiden that covered herself in bedsheets. How could I see if she were formed well?’
Sophia frowned. “That’s it?”
Lila inclined her head and said, “That’s all. Then she asked about a video game Borona promised she could borrow and she was back to herself.”
Sophia paused to scratch something down on a notepad, then asked, “That seems innocuous enough. Is it the marsh water keeping her calm?”
Lila motioned that she was done, so Girard chimed back in. “Perhaps. It’s a fairly high concentration. High enough that only the Minders are capable of withstanding it. The rest of us talk to her through the observation window in her room, which is one of the adjustments made some time ago in case the room might be used for unstable or criminal vampires.”
Pradish asked, “What about feeding?”
This was an interesting facet of whatever Thalia and Christina were. He’d seen it himself and found it odd how well Christina adapted to her new reality. Was it because she had been the subject of so much invasive medical treatment in the course of her life or simply the amazing adaptability that all children—whether human or vampire—seemed to possess? Only time would tell.
“She’s fed once and we gave her the same concentrate that we eat. She remained Christina throughout the entire process. Oddly, her lower appendages…I’m not sure what to call them…did emerge, though nothing came out since there was no waste material. Greg can give you more details.”
Greg was almost twitching he was so eager to share and he jumped right in. “Those lower appendages, which are the hallmark of the “dumper” variant, are really a sort of colon.” At the way some of the council members looked away, he half-smiled and said, “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We all have them in our human forms, or we do if we’re lucky. Also, it appears we have them in our vampire forms too, only ours are tiny compared to hers—”
Pradish interrupted him with, “And how do you know that?”
Greg held up his hands a little defensively and said, “I only know now. I didn’t know before. Most everyone here has let me take scans and we all seem to have a very narrow linkage to the small intestine in our human hosts. I can’t tell much more, but I can tell it’s a tube structure rather than a filament like our heat tentacles. It’s more like our feeding arms and no bigger around than a string. More study is needed, obviously.”
That must have satisfied his need to be sure Greg wasn’t dissecting members of the vampire species, because he made a face and nodded. Clearly, some of this new information was more than a little uncomfortable. Truthfully, Girard felt like it was long overdue. They treated themselves as if they were mysterious creatures far above study or understanding. It was equally clear that they weren’t mysterious at all, but rather mundane animals.
Sophia muted the videos from the various council members while they spoke amongst themselves. There didn’t seem to be much in the way of argument, given that all the faces remained calm. That was something, at least. When she unmuted again, she said, “We’re unanimous in our decision to confirm the detention of Christina/Thalia for the time being, but we’re also unanimous that it must not be unduly uncomfortable. She should be treated as any other human child in most respects.”
She glanced at all those in the conference room, her eyes moving over the totally inadequate number of vampires she had in her employ. “It’s going to be a lot of work and we’ll be getting some supplemental staff from other Councils, but for now, just keep plugging on as best you can. Lila, you and Girard seem to have bonded best with Christina, so I’d like you to keep on as primary with her. It’s possible that she relates better to you simply due to your physical appearances, with both of you looking about the right age to be parents of a girl her age. Whatever it is, you’re in charge of getting whatever you can out of her. And we all need to find out how we can progress with her in terms of her future. She can’t stay in that room forever.”
Lila gave a grim nod, understanding the depth of their duty. Girard merely added, “Of course.”
With a shuffle of papers, Sophia said, “Next line item; the vampire hybrid, Miracle.”
Girard had known this was coming, and he scooted back and rose from the table, causing the Chairwoman to cease speaking. Inclining his head in apology, he said, “If you’ll excuse me, I have pressing business with Christina to attend to.”
There was a long pause before anyone answered. Guardians didn’t just get up and leave these meetings. They were employees and this was mandatory. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lila shake her head a little and noted Sophia looking in her direction through the monitor.
“Of course, Girard. Lila will give you a briefing later,” Sophia finally said.
He left the room as quickly as possible. He hadn’t seen Miracle since that day at Yadikira’s, not laid eyes upon her even once. He couldn’t bear it. It was too much, too soon. When they’d rescued her and he’d pushed the hair from her face, it had rocked him back to see her. Miracle was the spitting image of her mother’s human form, only perfect in a way few humans are. It was like looking at an idealized painting of Yadikira in the body that had just died when it was young. Her rosy lips were full and unlined, the long lashes not yet thinned by a hundred years of life, her cheeks plump and rounded with youth.
The proof that she was vampire came when he put the citrus-scented mask over her nose and mouth. Her eyes fluttered open after only a few seconds and his second shock came when he saw that her eyes were exactly like her mother’s. The difference was that she had only a single point of light in them, almost dead center of each pupil. It almost made them glow.
Her immediate confusion and fear faded quickly, and she put a hand to his face. “Are you Girard?”
He’d nodded, unable to say more and her cheeks rose behind her mask when she smiled.
“My mother said we could trust you. We’re so glad to meet you, so glad.”
“We?” he asked.
The hand on his cheek lowered to rest on her chest and she said, “My sister and I. My sister in here.” Her soft voice then faded as she went back to sleep. Girard turned her over to Lila and Doran then and since that moment, he’d been unable to face seeing her again. Or even hearing about her, really. Information about her was largely limited to him asking if everything was okay and Lila answering that it was.
He knew he’d have to face her soon because he’d promised Yadikira, but not yet. He wasn’t ready yet. Maybe soon, but not today.
When the meeting concluded, everyone in the room filed out and past him where he sat in the chair outside the door. Marcus slapped him on the shoulder. Greg and Doran filed past and barely met his eyes. Borona gave him a sympathetic look. Lila was last and she waited while Borona stood there staring at Girard, as if deciding whether or not he wanted to say something.
Girard felt low, but he still had a job to do. “What’s up, Borona?” he asked, doing his best to sound like today was any other day.
“Yeah, Boss…uhh…this can wait if you want.”
With a tired smile, Girard said, “Not many things get better by waiting. Go ahead.”
“I didn’t go over it in the meeting because I’m not done yet, and also because you haven’t had a chance to look at it, but I got something interesting. Before you talk to Thalia—or Christina or whoever she is today—you should probably see it. It might be important.”
That did interest him. Anything that might help the Guardians get insight into the most mysterious of all living things—namely, a teenaged girl—was of importance. Getting up from his chair, Girard glanced at Lila, then said, “We should both see it.”
With more purpose in his step than he’d had in days, Girard walked with the others to Borona’s tech room, which Doran had taken to calling “Th
e Lair,” as if Borona were a mastermind or spider. Lila nudged him and gave him a smile that said she was glad to have him back.
Without delay, Borona tapped his computer and the screens blazed to life. On one, a video was frozen in mid-play and in that image was Thalia—or maybe Christina. She was standing on the school stage, her head thrown back and a microphone in her hand.
Pointing to the video, Borona explained. “This was turned over as evidence by one of the students that left the auditorium before the fire started. We knew the fire started during a practice for the school talent show, but this was the only video. It was taken within minutes of the fire, so it was important. They kept it out of the media, but released it earlier today since it had no evidentiary value. Or at least, it didn’t to them.”
Girard gave him a sharp look at his tone. “But it did to you?”
“Yep.”
Before he could get started, Lila asked, “But wasn’t Christina terminally ill? I mean, I know she was. She looks great there, but Thalia kept the healing secret. That doesn’t look very secret to me.”
Girard already knew this part from Christina, so he answered her. “She was, but it’s not so cut and dried. Her leukemia had been in remission for well over a year after a bone marrow transplant. When she came out of remission so quickly, she made a deal with her parents. She says they all knew she wasn’t going to make it, but no one ever said that out in the open. The deal was that she would go in for another transplant, but only after she got her trip to Egypt and performed in the school talent competition.”
Lila’s mouth dropped open. “And they actually agreed to that?”
He shrugged. “Getting a bone marrow transplant like the one she was going to get meant her entire immune system would be destroyed, months in isolation…not pretty. I think they wanted her to have something to hold onto when it got bad again.”
Her expression softened and she murmured. “Life is cruel.”
Borona was growing impatient, because he jumped in before they could go on and said, “Yeah, it is, but right now let’s go back to this.” He pointed to the screen.
Girard nodded at the screen. The image was still, but in it he could see joy. Real, honest joy. And this would have been when Thalia was in primary charge of the body. It was interesting, something he really wanted to see for himself, to see what Thalia and Christina were together when they weren’t plotting the end of the world. “Can we see the video first?”
With a sigh, Borona flipped the video back to the beginning and hit play. The video was a little shaky, obviously taken by an amateur with a phone. Young voices chatting could be heard near the microphone and one older voice hushing them. The image steadied on the stage where Thalia and several other youngsters were getting ready for their turn.
A teacher close to the stage was giving them some sort of stern instruction, which only made Thalia roll her eyes. Her hair was in a slightly more grownup version of pig-tails, each one curled and brushing her shoulders. Dark eye-liner rimmed her eyes, which was entirely inappropriate for a girl her age, and she wore plaid skirt and white button-down shirt. Girard gave Lila a look and asked, “Can you believe that’s Thalia?”
She replied with a low chuckle and said, “I can’t believe Christina’s mother let her leave the house like that.”
Very suddenly, a high series of noises that probably passed for music crashed through the computer. Girard’s hands flew up to his ears and he grimaced. “Good grief!”
Turning down the volume, Borona said, “I looked the song up and it’s called Sleepyhead. It’s pretty catchy once you listen a few times.”
The beat was rather engaging once he got past the high frequency, but what really kept his attention was the passion with which the group of kids on the stage played and sang. There was a bit of jumping, a bit of head tossing…and a whole lot of joy.
Borona had stopped watching the screen and turned his attention to Girard and Lila, watching them watch the screen. It was obvious he was waiting for them to notice something. First focused on Thalia, Girard let his vision widen to take in the whole scene.
And then he saw it.
“Pause! Go back,” he ordered, leaning closer.
Lila started and tried to see what he saw. “What was it?”
Borona had a little smile on his face and he dialed back the video in a series of slow jerky transitions. He stopped at the right place, so Girard knew he wasn’t imagining things. He saw it again, then let out a hard breath. “Look,” he said, pointing.
Then Lila saw it too. “The kids on the stage. Their eyes.”
He nodded, now looking at any other face he might see. “All those in her little band are vampires.”
Borona grinned and said, “Can I show you the rest now?”
Girard nodded, looking at the frozen scene. Thalia was glancing to the side at a boy working something that looked more like a big computer console than an instrument. Her expression was a bit sly, a bit knowing. He was looking back at her from under his brow and the unmistakable glint of vampire eyes shown there. Another boy just behind them on the stage was looking up and he had those eyes too.
Flipping to screen captures, Borona started the cataloging. Sure enough, all those on the stage were vampires. A teacher who walked past the stage was one too. Most in the auditorium were human, but at least ten weren’t.
Lila shook her head and asked, “How did the police not notice this?”
Borona shrugged. “They’re under stage lights. A bit of reflection wouldn’t be abnormal. And with so many, they would simply assume everyone under the stage had that light on them.”
“What else?” Girard prodded, because he could tell there was more.
Borona flipped up another two images on the big screens at the front of the room. Each one had a small bit of the image blown up in a box to show detail. In one of them was the toe of an overturned shoe at the very edge of the stage wings, almost out of sight. It was only the front of a shoe, easily categorized as a piece of costume or shoes set aside for some reason. But it was upside down and the angle was wrong…there was a foot in that shoe. Girard would bet on it.
In the other image a small section of Thalia’s blouse was magnified. On that section was the barest hint of red, a circle of red. Borona pointed and said, “I’m going to say she fed right before that and got a little on her shirt. If I hazard a guess, I’d say that shoe probably belonged to her morning snack.”
Even from the beginning, Girard had suspected there were more kids missing from that fire, but this was something else. And it brought up one more thing. “We didn’t find any vampires wearing those bodies.”
Raising his eyebrows, Borona gave him a grim smile and said, “Bingo.”
Lila gripped the chair back in front of her. “They’re out there,” she said, more whisper than words.
Girard was thinking fast. It was possible those bodies had been discarded in favor of those with the biological knowledge Thalia needed. It was possible every single vampire on that stage was now swimming in an old pool in the basement. Possible…but not certain.
“Buzz Thalia for me,” he said, crossing to the communications panel.
Borona pushed his chair across the room and hit the button. It didn’t light up the camera immediately, but rather, set off a buzzer in Thalia’s room. It was just another concession to her human self. Privacy and all that.
The screen lit up and Thalia stood in the center of the room, looking up at the camera. Another of those sly little smiles tugged at the corners of her mouth when she saw who it was. There was no question who was in charge of the body at that moment. Only Thalia could stand still and somehow broadcast absolute confidence and control like that.
“Thalia, where are the vampires from the school? Are they all your children?”
The smile quirked up one side of her mouth and one eyebrow lifted, but she didn’t answer.
“Thalia, I’m serious. If you’ve got more vampires out there plannin
g mischief, there isn’t time to screw around.”
The girl who wasn’t a girl took a deep breath, as if Girard were tiresome, then said, “They won’t do what I was doing. They know better now. They’ll stay out of your way…and you stay out of theirs.” With that, she walked back over to her desk and sat down, her head back over the book she was reading.
“Shit,” Lila said.
Girard sighed, but in a way, he felt a little better. He had something to do, a mission, a task that needed his full attention. There was no time for wallowing. With a nod at Borona, who was looking at him with a sort of anticipation, he said, “Let’s get to work. We’ve got some vampires to find.”
Epilogue
As night fell and the business of the day ended, the gloom settled over him again. Not as bad as before, but still there, creating a sort of lassitude he found hard to shake off. He was just about to leave the lounge and go to his room when Lila walked in. He could tell she’d been looking for him from her expression and he was right.
She stood in his path and said, “We should talk.” She pulled a small memory chip out of her pocket and held it up, so he would know what she wanted to talk about.
It was one of those that Yadikira had left for him, each taped carefully to the back of a priceless painting in her bedroom. Like the subject of Miracle, this was one he’d been unable to face. Like that subject as well, he knew he’d have to sooner or later.
Lila sensed his indecision and reluctance. Of course, she did. That’s what best friends did.
“Girard, it’s time.”
He nodded, but followed her out of the lounge. He felt so heavy, so lead-footed all the sudden. She passed all the business parts of the complex until they reached the Historian sections. Hardly anyone was working at the moment, and the hum of the big machine they used to peer into those destroyed scrolls was absent. In her office—which was as cluttered as ever—she sat him down in the same chair where he first read that section about Thalia and scooted another chair across from him.