“Okay.” I pick her up and carry her out of the alley. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take away your nightmare?”
“Yes,” she says as I set her back on her feet in the parking lot. “Stuff’s gonna try to hurt you now, and maybe us too. I gotta remember it so I can be ready.”
A blast of guilt hits me hard. What am I doing trying to mix two worlds together? This is only going to get my family hurt or killed. Glim’s tortured existence makes sense to me now… he’s protecting his wife and sons from more than his appearance. But… I can’t run away. I just can’t do that to them.
I scoop her up again into a hug.
“Can’t,” she wheezes. “Breathe.”
“Sorry.” I loosen my grip a little.
“What’s wrong?”
“Sorry for scaring you,” I whisper. “I never wanted any of this to happen.”
“I know.” After a moment of silence, she adds, “Are you gonna cry on me?”
“Heh.” I almost did, but her question makes me chuckle. “Nah. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“You should take me home before Mom gets worried we’re late.”
“Yeah.”
“And you gotta go stop the vampire war.”
“Right. Little things.”
We hurry back to the truck and hop in.
“Don’t sit back. You’ll get blood on the seat and Mom will be mad.”
Ugh. “How bad does it look?”
Sophia picks at my shoulders. “Umm. You got little crescents from her nails, but they’re not bleeding anymore. Does it hurt?”
“Yeah. Burns.” I start the engine. “But I’ll be okay.”
Favors
26
We both fail at acting normal when we get home. And, well, the blood on my shirt is way obvious.
My explaining what happened to the parents includes apologies every ten seconds or so for bringing this supernatural crap home.
“Dalton shouldn’t have dumped his spyglass mess in your lap,” says Dad. “That attack had nothing to do with, umm, what happened to you.”
“Sophia could’ve been hurt, Dad. I couldn’t live with that. Maybe I should’ve ‘followed the rules’ and gone off somewhere, let you be at peace thinking me dead.”
“No!” yells Mom. She pounce-hugs me. “Absolutely not. You’re still our daughter, no matter what, and we need to be part of your life.”
Or lack thereof, mutters my sarcastic brain since my actual voice is suffocating under a lump in my throat.
“You listen to your mother, young lady,” says Dad in a parody of his ‘stern’ voice. “No more talk of disappearing, okay?”
“Yes, Dad.” I look down. Dammit. I’m eighteen, why do I feel like I’m a kid?
“She totally kicked their butts,” says Sophia.
A hint of a grin curls the side of my mouth. “Forgot the headband again.”
Dad chuckles and wipes a tear. “You should get rid of that damn thing before this gets worse.”
“Yeah.” I glance at the clock; it’s a little after eight.
“I shouldn’t have made you take her to dance. I didn’t think it was that important,” says Mom.
Sophia stands. “I’m gonna go take a bath. I smell like alley and hipsters.”
“It’s okay, Mom. I wasn’t thinking anyway. The guy I need to return it to wouldn’t have been awake at six anyway. He’s probably still not up.” I pace, clutching the spyglass. “Maybe I should get this thing out of here before more of St. Ives’ people show up.”
Dad puts an arm around me. “Calm down, Sarah. You’re upset and upset people don’t make good decisions.”
I empty my lungs and try to ignore my fears that more vampires are going to kick down the door at any minute. My parents are awesome, but the kind of advice I need right now, they can’t give me. “Okay. You’re right. I got an idea.”
“What?” asks Mom.
Sophia screams upstairs.
“Shit!” I scramble into a run, clearing the stairs and hallway in under a second.
Right as I skid to a stop at the bathroom doorway, Sophia shouts, “Moooom! Sam put frogs in the bathtub!”
“They’re toads, not frogs,” yells Sam from his room.
Sophia, covered armpit to knee in a towel, spins to stare at me. “Sarah! There’s frogs in the tub!”
I’d been so ready for another vampire attack I nearly liquefy into a puddle with relief.
My parents arrive a moment later, since they lack the ability to run at like forty miles per hour. Mom steps into the bathroom and peers around Sophia into the tub, making an unpleasant noise, part gag, part girly squeal.
“Young man, get in here and remove those frogs!” says Mom.
“They need water.” Sam walks out of his room with a plastic bucket in hand. “And they’re toads.”
“C’mon, pal.” Dad holds his arm out and guides Sam into the bathroom with a hand at his back.
Sophia scurries out of the way of the amphibian relocation project and hides behind Mom, clutching the towel to her chest, staring at the doorway like the boy is handling plutonium.
“Well, that was close,” says Dad, glancing at me.
I smirk. “Toad-ally.”
Sophia punches me in the side. “That was awful.”
“Right.” I hold up the spyglass. “I’m gonna go deal with this before I croak.”
Dad groans, then points down the hall. “Go, young tadpole.”
Mom sighs.
I almost manage a smile before worry kills it. After heading back to my room, I grab my iPhone and call Aurélie.
“Good evening, chéri.” She stifles a yawn. “Forgive me, I have recently awoken.”
“I need help, advice really.”
“Oh. What is the matter?”
“A big mess…” I explain everything about the spyglass and the attack at the dance studio. “I was going to give it back to that Wolent guy since it really belongs to him.”
“Yes. You should do that. Leave Eleanor St. Ives to me. Proceed with your idea and return it to Mr. Wolent.”
“Awesome. Umm. Where does he live? I just realized I almost ran right out the door and I have no idea where to even go.”
Aurélie laughs, her voice fine and delicate―like everything else about her. Though, I’m starting to suspect she can be quite indelicate if she wants to be. “He has an estate west of North Hill, near the water by the trees. I’ll assume you’ll be flying in, so look for the statue of the knight in a small reflecting pool.”
Okay, that shouldn’t be too common. “Okay. I’m leaving now. Anything I should know?”
“Well, the man is respectable, but he’s also a Fury.”
“Right.”
“Simply do your best to be polite and you should be fine,” says Aurélie.
“Nothing that sounds that simple is ever that easy.”
She giggles. “Are you sure you’re only eighteen?”
“Yeah, but I’ve had a rough week.”
“All right. Give me a moment and I shall call on Eleanor. How is your little sister?”
Based on the shouting upstairs, probably fine. “Little frog―sorry toad―issue going on at the moment, but I think she’ll be okay. Expecting nightmares though.”
She tsks. “Poor thing. I shall ensure that Eleanor understands the extent of my displeasure with her decision to disregard my declaration that your family was not to be harmed.”
“Thank you.”
After hanging up, I run back to my room to change. The tiered pink skirt survived without any damage, but it’s got some blood spatter. Dammit. I hope that washes out. My Hello Kitty T-shirt isn’t so lucky. That bitch shredded the back of it at the shoulder. I fling it off and hit the basement bathroom for a quick ‘washcloth shower’ to get the blood off my back. I’m in too much of a hurry to care if anyone catches me roaming around in my underwear and sneakers for the few minutes it takes me to wipe myself off and hurry back to my room.
Holy crap. Mom didn’t say anything about me wearing shoes in the house. Gotta get out of here before she catches me.
Still attempting to accentuate ‘cute,’ I grab the next best thing, a white dress with puffy shoulders and pink trim. Wait. No. I’m trying to look innocent, not like a creepy giant six-year-old. Why did I ever buy this? Oh, right, Halloween two years ago. I toss it back into the closet and sigh. Oh hell. A couple blood droplets probably won’t bother vampires. I pull the tiered skirt back on and add a Nike T shirt with a white chest and pink short sleeves. Wow. Guess there’s more girly stuff in here than I remembered having.
I grab a matching hair ribbon and grin at Dad’s headband fixation. Nah. Too over the top. After snagging the spyglass from my bed, I race upstairs and go out the kitchen sliding door. Less chance of anyone catching me leaping into the air from the backyard.
While cruising along at like a hundred feet off the ground, I fish my iPhone out of my purse and keep a death grip on it. Klutz plus flying plus iPhone is not a good combination. However, I can’t place North Hill off the top of my head, especially from the air. A quick check of the map application points me in the right direction, and I put the phone back in my bag.
It’s kinda cold up here in a T-shirt and skirt.
Sam would love the view, but I’m not about to risk carrying my little brother up this high. I don’t trust my grip that much. Nor do I trust it enough to try taking a picture. Besides, I’m in a hurry. The sooner I get rid of this thing, the better. And crap. If I drop it, I’m going to be in huge trouble.
Clinging to the old telescope like it’s a baby, I focus on being as careful as possible while cruising at like 140 MPH. It doesn’t take me too long to reach the general area of North Hill, and I head for a strip of green beyond it at the coast. After a few minutes of cruising back and forth studying the ground, I spot a life-size statue of a medieval knight standing on a pedestal at the center of a small, square reflecting pool only about as big as my driveway. Colored lights make the white stone glow iridescent blue.
The nearby house is as big as five of mine stuck together, with three stories and a huge pool behind it. While nothing about the place is overly creepy, the closer I get to the door, the taller the hairs on the back of my neck stand.
Well, here goes nothing.
As soon as I swoop in to land on my feet, my skirt flaps up, giving the whole world a great view of my panties. Eep! I stop short in midair and flatten it back in place. Dammit. I knew I promised myself I’d stop flying in dresses for a reason. There’s gotta be a trick to landing in a skirt that doesn’t involve wanting to crawl into a hole and hide afterward. Luckily, I don’t think anyone saw me. Other than the statue, the estate grounds are pitch black. At least to mortals. Only because I feel like I’m the star of a black and white film do I know it’s super dark.
Feet down, I glide in to land by the porch and walk up to the door. Right. I can do this. For one thing, I’m an Innocent. I should be able to give off a ‘don’t mind me, I’m cute and harmless’ vibe. For another, I’m actually innocent. I had nothing to do with stealing this thing.
I push the doorbell and try not to look as terrified as I feel.
Deep chimes echo throughout the manor house. It’s some old song I don’t recognize, but it kinda sounds churchy. Like something that would come out of a bell tower. For about a minute, I stand there fidgeting.
The door opens, and this dark-skinned dude who’s gotta be seven feet tall, four feet wide at the shoulders, stares down at me with an annoyed expression. As far as I can tell, the guy doesn’t have a neck.
“Umm, hi,” I say. “Can I interest you in some Thin Mints?”
He tilts his head.
Wow, Sarah. You are such a dork. Where did that come from? “Umm.” I fidget. “Sorry. Brain fart. Is Mr. Wolent here? I need to give this back to him.”
The guy glances down at the spyglass in my hands. His eyebrows tick upward. “Please. Come in.”
He steps back, holding the door for me.
I walk into a huge foyer with black and white tiled floors and narrow columns that might be marble. Medieval armor suits stand on pedestals arranged around the room. Clean white walls bear large portraits of people in ancient clothes, some even in armor. Blood red tapestries flank the windows of the parlor beyond. Whoa. Feels like I’ve stepped into a creepy haunted house movie.
“This way,” says the man.
Vampires give off a subtle sense that usually lets us recognize each other. This dude missed the memo about subtle. Everything about him screams powerful-ass-vampire. He couldn’t be any more obvious without being a Shadow. I came here with zero intention of causing trouble, but seeing this guy has pushed it to a negative number. Short of someone threatening my family, I’m just going to tolerate any attitude they give me and keep my mouth shut. There’s pride and then there’s abject stupidity.
The Moroccan Hulk leads me across the parlor to a hallway with inlaid wood walls bearing carved angels and demons. Wow, this Wolent guy must have money.
“Umm. We’re going right in?” I ask, before thinking better of it. “Aren’t I supposed to like wait in a sitting room for some fashionable delay or something?”
“Mr. Wolent is going to want to see you right away.” His super-deep voice vibrates the air.
I nod, and silently follow him to the end of the hall, around a corner, and a short ways down the next hall to a pair of double wooden doors with dragons for handles. My escort opens one and steps back to let me pass.
The room somewhat resembles Zarkhov’s office, only a bit bigger and without the creepy-as-hell wolf rug. Wingback chairs, a fireplace, a big desk, paintings, giant windows across the whole rear wall… Remember how I felt conspicuously well off at Hunter’s place? Yeah. I don’t feel so bad anymore about that. This place is ridiculous―and way over the top.
Arthur Wolent is on the left side of the room, involved in a conversation with a pair of younger men and a tall redheaded woman who’s as pale as an alabaster statue. The woman’s in a shimmery blue evening gown, the men all in suits. Wolent’s sporting an iridescent burgundy ascot while the younger men wear standard black ties. He could be their father by age. I’m guessing he died close to fifty. Grey over his ears lightens his otherwise black hair. The other three are clearly vampires, as not one of them is making any effort to retain a lifelike coloration. At least Wolent looks human, coming off somewhere between the most interesting vampire in the world and an off-duty Lucifer.
Yeah. T-shirt, skirt, and sneakers. Wow am I underdressed. I should’ve borrowed one of those Disney gowns from Aurélie before coming here.
“Mr. Wolent,” says the giant butler. “Pardon the interruption, but you have an important guest.”
He pivots to glance over at us. His eyes sparkle for a second like an older man’s ‘aww how cute’ reaction to their grandkid, but as soon as he takes notice of the spyglass, his gaze hardens and he storms over.
“I remember you, from the other day. You’re Aurélie’s protégé.”
Try to sound polite, I chant in my head. “Yes, sir. I’m here to return this to you.”
The other three watch from over by the wall, keeping a respectful distance.
“How did you come about having this in your possession?” asks Mr. Wolent.
I hold it out to him. “The person who made a grave mistake stealing it from you realized his error and gave it to me to return it.”
He takes the spyglass and looks it over like a jeweler appraising its value.
Trying my best to seem inconspicuous and harmless, I clasp my hands in front of myself and keep my eyes on him at chest level. I hate acting so subservient, but I wouldn’t try to talk to the president like he’s a pal. This guy’s 200 years old. After seeing what I can do after a month, I bet this dude could throw a car over my house. So, yeah, if I have to act like a demure, subservient girl from two centuries ago to get out of here with my head still attached, whatever. Of
course, I don’t really know if this guy expects women to be like that, but he is a Fury, so anything I can do not to anger him helps.
The simmering rage beneath the surface of Arthur Wolent’s face recedes. He kinda returns to that grandfatherly vibe with a smile. “I am grateful to you for returning my property, though I would ask why this individual sent you as their proxy. Did they not have the courage to face me?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.” I flash my most sincere smile.
Wolent offers the spyglass to the man who led me to this room. The huge guy takes it, nods once, and walks off.
“Tell me the name of the one who stole from me.” Arthur stares at me, calm, but threatening nonetheless.
Geez. Now I know how it felt to like face Caesar or something. One wrong word and I’m the poor sap facing execution. Besides, Dalton already mentioned being pursued, so Wolent is probably only asking me as a test. “The one who gave me the Transference. Dalton Ames.”
Arthur nods. “I appreciate your honesty, despite the conflict it must create in terms of your loyalty.”
“It’s a big misunderstanding and being deceptive won’t do anything but make it worse.” I have no idea if I can radiate anything like Aurélie does, but I’m trying my damndest to give off enough cute to trigger a Geiger counter. Trustable innocence. That’s me.
“A misunderstanding?” He raises an eyebrow. “What possessed him to steal it in the first place?”
“Umm. I think someone hired him.”
“Hired?” Arthur whirls away from me and paces a bit before stopping by the wall and spinning back to glare. “Who?”
A name could kick off a bloody war. Lying to this guy feels like an equally bad idea, but I hope it’s the lesser of two bad options. “I can’t say.”
Wolent stares at me for a moment, a picture of total serenity. Out of nowhere, he roars and punts the chair next to him, sending it zooming across the room and out the window like a cannonball, smashing the glass to a bajillion pieces. All three other vampires jump at the sudden outburst. The redhead gives me a ‘ooh, I would not want to be you’ look.
Okay, yeah, I jumped too. I probably even yelped. Geez. Why do some guys think the solution to any problem is smashing something?
A Beginner's Guide to Fangs (Vampire Innocent Book 2) Page 28