by M. Leighton
I wanted to tell the police that most of my friends were either dead or monsters, but I didn’t. I just nodded and agreed in all the right places.
I couldn’t find Aisha all morning. Between classes I called her phone, but I always got her voice mail. With every hour that ticked by, I held onto the hope that she’d be at school by lunchtime, like she had on Monday. Unfortunately, lunch came and went with still no sign of Aisha.
Since there was no cheerleading practice tonight, I decided to drive by Aisha’s house before going home. I wasn’t really surprised to see that there were no cars in the driveway and no indication that anyone was home. Both her parents worked, so…
After knocking on every door I could get to, I hopped back in my car, frustrated. I promised myself that I’d try again after dinner at Savannah’s. Surely someone would be home by then.
It was during the drive to Savannah’s house, as I was reliving events from the previous night, that I put two and two together from the short conversation between Summer and Trinity. I finally remembered why the name of the elderly attack victim in Sumter sounded familiar. Maggie Jenner was Trinity’s grandmother. She made organic soaps and shampoos and sold them in a small store in downtown Sumter.
Trinity had given me a set of lavender bath products two years ago for Christmas when she’d drawn my name in the Secret Santa. Obviously, ours were never that secret.
Trinity’s reaction over the death of her grandmother puzzled me. As cold and heartless as she was when she was human, I had no doubts, especially after the accident and what she did to Savannah, that she was even less conscionable as a vampire.
But then there was her reaction to her grandmother’s grisly death. She hadn’t sounded heartless; she’d sounded a bit heart broken actually. Was it possible that Trinity might still have a decent streak, somewhere deep down?
She’d been obsessed with Devon and had probably absconded with him the night of the accident. That’s what Bo and I had both concluded. Yet, Savannah said that Devon was back, that she’d seen him and talked to him. Was it possible that Trinity hadn’t killed him? That she’d merely captured him and then had a change of heart and let him go?
By the time I pulled up at the curb in front of Savannah’s house, I had decided that I’d tell Savannah about Trinity and Lars. If Devon was really back and I was wrong about Trinity, then Savannah could be in danger. The very least I could do was to tell her the truth and warn her.
I figured that Savannah would be in her room, as she’d been every other time I’d visited her, and I planned to tell her right away. Unwittingly, however, Savannah threw a kink in my plan. When Mr. Grant let me in, Savannah was in the kitchen helping him cook.
“Get in here and help me cut vegetables. It’s your fault I’ve been put to work and only the meanest type of person would give a knife to a blind kid,” Savannah called from the kitchen.
I blushed and Mr. Grant patted my arm, closing the front door behind me.
“She’s kidding. She just takes some getting used to.”
I just smiled politely and followed him into the kitchen.
Savannah was at the island, carefully cutting carrots and dumping them into a salad bowl. Watching her wield the sharp instrument did bring Mr. Grant’s judgment into question.
“What she doesn’t tell you is that she blackmailed me into letting her use the knife.”
Oh. Now that sounded like Savannah. Again, I smiled.
“What can I do to help?”
“You can wash your hands and cut some peppers,” Savannah said without hesitation.
“I can do that.”
After I cleaned up, I joined Savannah at the island and helped her dice vegetables and prepare the salad and toppings for dinner. It was the most fun I’d ever had helping out in the kitchen. The banter between Savannah and her father was light and playful, overflowing with love and affection. Even more than before, I envied their relationship.
“Gourmet- ha! I could make a better lasagna than you any day of the week.”
“In your dreams, little girl,” he said and then turned to me. “Heather was a terrible cook and Vanna’s just like her.”
My heart stopped. “Heather?”
Mr. Grant smiled. “Yes. Savannah’s mother. She was a terrible cook, too.”
“Was?”
“I told you that my mother died, Ridley, remember?”
“That’s right you did. You said she drowned, right?”
Both Savannah and her father nodded, suddenly very quiet.
Surely that had to be a coincidence. I mean, there was just no way. Was there?
“I’m sorry. Maybe we should change the subject.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Though the subject was changed, the tone for the rest of the evening was noticeably more somber. I could’ve kicked myself for asking about Savannah’s mom. I felt even worse for thinking such a ridiculous and terrible thing about her, for thinking she could be the Heather. But still, I was very anxious to talk to Bo, tell him about Savannah’s mother and see what he thought.
By the time dinner was over and I’d helped clean up, I thought to start making my excuses to leave. Turns out I didn’t have to.
From my pocket, my cell phone chirped. When I answered it, I was greeted by the silky smooth baritone of Sebastian Aiello.
“Ridley, this is Sebastian.”
“Yes, sir. How are you?”
“I’m fine. I got your number from your mother. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. What’s up?”
“Well, right now I’m in desperate need of your services. I know it’s last minute and I’m sorry to bother you, but is there any way that you could watch Lilly for me? Nothing too long. Say, two hours? I’d even double your pay,” he added slyly.
I chewed my lip as I thought. I really wanted to go to Aisha’s again and then talk to Bo. But, I could continue to call Aisha from Sebastian’s and Bo wasn’t likely to show up until later, so what was the harm in spending some time with Lilly and making almost a hundred bucks in the meantime?
“I can do that. What time do you need me?”
“Could you be here in the next thirty minutes?”
“Sure. I’ll see you soon.”
“Great! Thanks, Ridley.”
When I got off the phone, my end of the conversation had already made my excuses to Savannah and her dad for me.
“Go. We’ve got the rest,” Savannah said, spreading plastic wrap over the top of a bowl.
“Are you sure? I hate to eat and run.”
“Sure, sure,” Savannah said with a mischievous smile.
“Really, I never—”
“Kidding, Ridley. Go on. All we have left to do is put the leftovers in the fridge.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
I looked to Mr. Grant.
“She’s right. We’ve got it under control. Besides, you’ve already helped with the hard part. Guests aren’t supposed to do dishes,” he explained, frowning.
“It’s the least I could do since you were kind enough to have me.”
“It was our pleasure, wasn’t it, Vanna?”
“I suppose,” she sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically, but then she looked at me and winked. “Seriously, go on. We’re good. I’m just glad you came.”
And when I looked at Savannah’s expression, I could see that she really meant that. She looked happy and relaxed and more carefree than I’d seen her in a while.
On my way to Sebastian’s, I called Mom’s cell phone. When she answered, I could hear the typical bar sounds in the background—glasses clinking, people laughing, Mom slurring.
Briefly, I explained where I was going and, as I suspected, she agreed wholeheartedly, not for one second remembering her supposed concern over me being out after dark by myself. Dad wasn’t around. She didn’t have to pretend anymore.
Chagrined, I hung up and tried to put her out of my mind. Savannah an
d her dad, too. It wasn’t helping matters with my own family by comparing them to a normal relationship, so I pushed all families out of my head except the one I was going to help right now.
When I rang the bell, Sebastian answered the door in a black turtle neck sweater and black pants. I was once again impressed with his incredible handsomeness.
“Thank you so much, Ridley. I promise I won’t be gone long,” he preempted me, holding the door open so I could enter.
“No problem.”
“This should be easy money for you. Lilly had a doctor’s appointment today.
Had to get her next round of vaccinations. It wore her out. She’s already asleep, so you don’t need to do anything more than listen for her in case she wakes up.”
“Oh, ok,” I said, a little disappointed. Not only was I looking forward to the distraction, but I liked Lilly and I hated that I wouldn’t really get to see her.
“The housekeeper had to make an unexpected trip out of town. That’s why the last minute call. Sorry about that.”
“No problem,” I repeated.
“I just made a strawberry colada smoothie. Virgin, of course. Help yourself.
It’s in the fridge,” Sebastian explained, walking toward the kitchen.
“Thanks.”
“Alright, make yourself at home. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”
With a polite smile, Sebastian grabbed his keys off the counter by the kitchen door, waved casually and disappeared into the garage.
I stood in the kitchen for a few minutes before I plopped down on a barstool with a humph. This was going to be worse than being at home.
Flopping my purse up on the bar, I walked to the fridge and pulled out the pitcher of strawberry colada that Sebastian made. It looked like Pepto Bismol. I wiggled the lid back and sniffed.
“Mmm, coconut,” I said to the empty kitchen. I love coconut!
After snooping enough to locate the glasses, which were conveniently located right next to the refrigerator, I poured myself some of the thick treat and meandered into the den.
I eyed the entertainment center, thinking of picking out a movie, but I wasn’t really in the mood, so I walked down the hall to peep in on Lilly. She was sleeping soundly, her little hand tucked under her cheek like the angel that she was. The sight tugged on my heartstrings. Swallowing the aww that lurked in my throat, I backed out and closed the door snugly behind me.
With a bored and frustrated sigh, I turned and made my way back down the hall, stopping as I passed Sebastian’s study. It was dark in there, unlike the last time, when I’d been lured inside by the showcased and spotlighted book about vampires.
Just the thought of the book and all the wonders (and possibly answers) that it held made my feet itch to go inside. But I resisted.
Moving on through the house, I opened doors and looked into all sorts of rooms that I probably had no business looking in. It was as I was passing through to the den again that I heard the noise.
It sounded like someone dropping something onto the floor in one of the rooms above me. Only there wasn’t supposed to be anyone here besides me and Lilly.
A little niggle of trepidation worked its way down my back and legs, bringing every fine hair follicle on my body to attention. Setting my untouched drink down, I backtracked until I came to the steps that led to the second story.
The gently turning sweep of the dark wood staircase looked fairly benign, as did the beautiful red and gold runner that streaked up the middle of the tread. I reached out and laid my hand on the rich, elegantly curved banister. It was cool beneath my palm.
With one foot on the first step, I hesitated. I’d never been to the second story.
I’d never bothered exploring it and Lilly had never even so much as mentioned it.
Her room, as well as Sebastian’s, was on the first floor, so I hadn’t really had a reason to go up there. Until now.
My fingers twitched. I wished they were gripping my cell phone. Not that it would matter. Bo hadn’t had a cell phone since his supposed disappearance. His mother (who apparently was not his mother at all) had dropped his plan. And it wouldn’t do me any good to call the police. The things I was afraid of were not things the police could help me with.
I had just about talked myself out of going upstairs when I heard the noise again. I looked around nervously. It was when my eyes lit on Lilly’s door that I realized that I owed it to her, to her safety, to check it out.
Keeping my tread as light as possible, I mounted the steps to the next story.
The air smelled stale and musty, as if the entire floor was rarely ever used. It being only Sebastian and Lilly, I didn’t doubt that at all.
From where I landed, the hall split left and right with only one door straight ahead. I stopped and held my breath to listen before venturing in either direction.
When I heard nothing, I walked slowly forward and twisted the knob for the first door. Inside it was a room full of furniture, every piece covered in a protective plastic drape. The hardwoods were dull, lying beneath a generous layer of dust that was very obviously undisturbed. Quietly, I shut the door and turned to proceed down the hall.
I chose the left side of the second level first, as it would contain the rooms that were directly over the kitchen and den, which is where I was when I’d first heard the noise.
I followed the runner until I came to the first of three doors. I leaned in, pressing my ear lightly to the door, listening for sounds. But it was quiet, so I turned the knob and eased the wood panel open. Inside, I found much the same thing as I had in the other room.
Closing it, I made my way to door number two, which proved to be another repeat, a large room full of plastic-covered furniture and a ton of dust. It was behind door number three that I noticed a change.
The hinges creaked as I opened the third door. I poked my head in and saw the familiar lumps of covered furniture. The departure from the scenes in the other two rooms occurred on the floor. The thick layer of dust that covered the hardwoods had been disturbed in this room. By the looks of the clean prints, I guessed that the tracks had been laid fairly recently.
The footprints appeared to be in the shape of a man’s dress shoe, and the foot was not at all small. For a second, I wondered if maybe Sebastian had been in the room recently. That would account for the disturbance in the dust as well as the type of print it looked to be.
That thought made me feel a bit better for all of about ten seconds, as long as it took my eyes to track the footprints to where they disappeared against the wall on the other side of the room. It wasn’t until then that I noticed that there were no returning foot steps; only those going toward the wall, away from the door.
My heart rate picked up as I mulled over the wisdom of crossing the room to follow the prints. Part of my brain remained calm, reminding me that there was likely a rational explanation for what I was seeing. But then there was the other half of my brain, the portion that had seen horrible things, witnessed horrible things, knew of too many horrible things—it suggested that I turn tail and run. Fast.
Steeling myself against the fear and unease that was quickly surfacing inside me, I opened the door wider and stepped inside. I stopped and listened. Still, there was silence. I wondered for a second if I could’ve imagined hearing something. But deep down, I knew. I knew I’d heard something.
I tiptoed across the room, careful to step exactly where the person before me had stepped. I had to stretch to get from print to print, which further supported my theory that the tracks belonged to a man, probably Sebastian’s. The stride was long, a lot longer than mine.
When I’d reached the other side of the room, I could see a faint scrape mark where something had brushed the dust away in an arch, similar to that of a door opening. And yet there was no door, only a blank wall.
The footprints clearly disappeared into that wall, so I began feeling around, rubbing my hands across the floral wallpaper, hoping to find…something.
> Considering the age and type of house this was, a hidden passageway wouldn’t really surprise me.
I jumped when I heard another noise. My heart filled with dread when I realized that it had, in fact, come from the other side of the wall, the one I was standing in front of. I also noticed that the noise had caused a puff of dust to leak out around a crack in the wallpaper.
I ran my fingertip along the seam. At about waist level, my finger slipped into a dip. I bent down to look at it and realized that the paper was peeled away right in the center of a flower, making the dark crescent underneath nearly invisible.
Hooking my finger into the indentation, I pulled.
And a door popped open.
It only opened a tiny crack, but my pulse started fluttering wildly in my chest.
I listened for any sounds of movement, like someone might have heard me and turned to come after me. But there was absolute, eerie stillness. All I could hear was the shallow pant of my breathing against the backdrop of my pulse pounding away in my ears.
Carefully, I pulled the door until it was open wide enough for me to slide inside. I left it ajar in case I had to make a hasty escape, which gave me cold chills just to think about.
The first thing I noticed was that I smelled roses. For some reason, that gave me pause, but I couldn’t figure out why. The only smell I associated with roses was Lucius’s luxurious basement.
When my eyes had adjusted to the dim light, I saw the orangey glow of candle light sparkling like a thousand tiny diamonds in the spider web that hung thickly in the little hallway. It was evident that a path had been cut recently, as if someone had walked right through the middle of them.
Silently, I tiptoed toward the light, toward the mouth of the short corridor where a room opened up at the end. When I got to the point where if I continued on, I would no longer be in the shadows, I stopped walking and leaned slowly around the corner to peer into the room.