by Erin Johnson
The heart witch shook her head. "It's barred—from the inside."
"Stand back." Hank lifted his hands and a blast of air blew my bangs back. The wooden doors exploded inward with a sharp crack. Black smoke billowed from the opening and the thick wooden beam that had barred the doors lay splintered on the floor.
I pulled my scarf up over my nose and mouth as a filter against the smoke and stepped inside, behind Hank and the townspeople. "Oh!" I grabbed Maple's hand as I spotted a dark figure, lying facedown on the ground. A few men from the town rushed up and rolled the body over, revealing Eddy Kinn. I pressed a cold hand to my mouth, and Maple buried her face in my shoulder. His eyes stared, unseeing, and a trickle of blood gathered at the corner of his mouth. His face looked pale and sunken, like dried fruit. The men around him shook their heads. "He's gone," one confirmed. A reddish-brown smear of blood covered his throat, where his scarf had been loosened.
I knew I should look away, but I took inventory of Eddy Kinn's clothes. The stained scarf around his neck, pants, boots, a short jacket. He had no skirt or long billowing cloak. "There's someone else." I spoke loudly, addressing all the rescuers. "I saw someone else at the top of the tower, right when the bells started."
Hank, Maple, and I rushed up the spiral wooden staircase, flight after flight, to the top of the tower. Maple and Hank and the others used a speed spell to reach the top long before I did, but I'd tried that once and nearly killed myself running into buildings and off bridges. I didn't want to try it on this steep, tightly winding staircase.
Huffing and puffing, I finally made it to the top landing.
"You need to do more cardio," Iggy teased.
"Do you—want me—to—"
Iggy interrupted. "Sea snakes. You don't even have breath for a retort. Well, don't waste it, you might collapse."
I stuck my tongue out at him. The others were standing back from the only door on the landing, blasting spell after spell at it.
Maple took a break and explained, "It's locked. But there's not even a keyhole."
"Weird," I gasped.
She nodded. "And it's spelled closed. We can't open it."
Still panting, but more slowly, I straightened up, pressing my free hand to the stitch at my side. "So the person I saw locked themselves out on the tower on purpose? Which means they may have been the one to kill Eddy and set the fire?"
Hank dropped his hands, giving up on the spells. "Seems that way. And there's no other way down, except through this door."
I frowned. "So they're either still out there or… they can fly?"
Hank lifted a thick brow. "Pretty much."
"Well, the only person I know who can fly—" I stopped speaking as the townspeople turned their faces my way. Probably best not to put ideas into their heads.
A young man sped to the top of the stairs in a blur and skidded to a stop beside me. Darn speed spells. I needed to master them. He threw his shoulders back, his face drawn, but eyes glittering with anger. "We've found bite marks on Eddy's neck."
My stomach dropped. Hank looked pale.
"Francis," Maple whispered.
Uh-oh.
15
Torches and Pitchforks
A thick silence fell as the townspeople's faces swung toward us. Eyes narrowed, mouths tight. I sidestepped a little behind Hank, who held his ground and squared his shoulders. Though his breath caught, his voice came out steady.
"I'd like to see the marks you mentioned."
"I'd bet you would." A man with a red face jabbed his finger at Hank. "To cover it up."
"I wouldn't dare step in the way of justice. But we need to consider all the facts." I had no idea how Hank was acting so calm. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I glanced at the staircase, spiraling out of sight. We were trapped, stories up, with an angry group of men and only one way down.
The men inched closer. Another growled. "We haven't had crime to speak of in the history of Wee Ferngroveshire, and you lot come and now we've had two deaths in two days. And on Bruma, too!"
"Yeah!"
"This was the doing of your vampire!"
Hank glanced over his shoulder and gave Maple a slight nod. I narrowed my eyes. What was that about? She slid her hand into my free one, while Hank slowly took Iggy's lantern from me and grasped my other hand in his.
He tried again. "I'm sure we can discuss this like gentlemen."
"Like dirt we can." The man closest lunged for me.
Hank whipped his head around and an invisible blast of magic knocked the man to the ground. "Now!" Hank gripped my hand tight, squeezing my fingers together almost painfully. The world lurched and blurred and I screamed my head off as the speed spell kicked in and we all whirled round and round down the twisting staircase, out the front door of the charred records building, and flew past startled villagers and passing carriages, down a back alley or two. When we finally skidded to a stop, I dropped to my hands and knees on the snowy cobblestones and pinched my eyes shut. Hank rubbed my back slowly as I waited for the world to stop spinning.
"Are you two…not…dizzy?" I croaked.
"Here. Eat this." Maple held a red hard candy under my mouth like a dog getting a treat.
"Remove that—or—" I choked. "I'll vomit on your shoes."
"It's for motion sickness. I brought some for the ferry ride over from France—had one left in my pocket."
I bit it right out of her hand and sucked away, my stomach lurching at the sweet flavor, but I managed to not spit up my breakfast, and after a few moments the nausea subsided out of my chest and then out of my stomach, and the world grew steady. Maple and Hank handed me to my feet and I dusted off my knees and gloves. Hank passed me Iggy in his lantern.
"Thanks, guys." I looked around. Nobody seemed to have followed us. "Are we safe?"
Hank sighed out his nose. He looked years older suddenly, with deep lines under his eyes and his lips pinched tight. "I think we surprised them enough that no one followed. But it won't take them long to come after us. We'd better get going."
"Yeah, before they get their pitchforks and torches," Iggy added.
I gulped and Maple and I jogged after Hank. "Where are we going?"
"We need to find Francis." Hank's voice quavered slightly.
"Do you think he—could he have done this?"
He didn't even turn around as he stalked down the alleyway, dodging barrels and crates. "I don't want to think it—I really don't. But we've all heard Francis say he's the last of his kind." Hank rubbed his wrist. "The bite marks could be a way to frame him but—unless someone is dead up at the top of that tower, the only person we know who could fly is—"
None of us finished the sentence. My heart hung heavy in my chest. I didn't want to think it of Francis either. He was my friend—and on top of it, he'd saved my life before. But there was a lot about him I didn't know. And while I didn't think he'd kill out of viciousness, I wasn't sure an eternal being who could live off food but enjoyed the taste of blood operated by the same moral guidelines as most of the rest of us. I'd never had to question it before.
"Rhonda stormed off earlier." I jogged to keep up with Hank, my coat starting to feel too warm from all the dashing about. "Francis took off after her, but I have no idea where they went."
Hank swallowed. "I think I have an idea. Francis usually sleeps during the day. He likes someplace dark and cool and quiet. And he can't go back to the inn right now." Hank stopped short and rounded on Maple. "Speaking of which, do you still have the com device Amelia gave you?"
"Um—" Maple bit her lip and fished around in her coat pockets, before her face lit up and she triumphantly pulled out the little gumball-sized thing. "Yep."
Hank leaned forward. "Call Amelia, now. Tell her the villagers are angry, looking for Francis, but I think they'll go after any one of us, and it won't take them long to check the inn."
Maple popped the device into her ear and we started off again.
"Tell her to get Sam out of
there especially—now that those boys from last night know he's a shifter, it won't take long for word to spread. And they'll be all too happy to vent their anger on a scapegoat." Hank shook his head. "Tell Amelia she needs to get Sam, Wiley, Yann, and Annie out of there."
Maple nodded, mouth open and brows tight in worry. "Where should I tell them to go?"
Hank pointed a gloved hand over the rooftops to the steeple of the church. "The church—up in the belfry."
My lips pulled to the side in a wry grin. "Bats in the belfry, huh?"
Maple had just finished giving directions to Amelia, who promised to get everyone out safely, when we reached the end of the alleyway and stood across the lane from the church, with its crooked graveyard out front. With the gray sky hanging low and the dark headstones poking out of the snow at all angles, the church didn't look particularly welcoming.
"You sure he's there?" I whispered, as we looked right and left to make sure the coast was clear.
Hank shook his head. "No. But it's a good guess. I know he sleeps in the Bijou Mer temples, sometimes."
Bent low, we dashed across the lane and through the creaky, wrought iron gate. We pushed open the tall, arched wooden door and closed it behind us. The pews were empty and the room nearly as cold as outside.
"I thought it'd be packed on Bruma. It would be on Christmas, back home," I muttered, looking around at the strangely silent place.
Maple shook her head. "Everyone's always too hungover. Plus, Bruma's more about celebrating the beginning of the end of winter—church is another thing entirely."
I raised my brows. Fair enough.
I groaned when I spotted the spiral staircase. "Is this a joke?"
"If so, it's on you."
I lifted Iggy up to glare at him, and he burst into giggles. Glad someone was having a good time. "I'd like to see you climb these," I grumbled as I trudged up, my thighs already burning.
By the time we reached the top, I sincerely hoped to never see stairs ever again, and vowed to master the speed spell, just in case I did. Brick showed through patches in the white plaster, and a latticework of exposed timber beams crisscrossed overhead. A chilly wind whistled through the open arched windows of the belfry, and I rubbed my arms. We skirted the big, greenish bell that hung in the center. Our footsteps thudded against the rough wooden beams, and sent up clouds of dust. I spotted footprints and grew hopeful we'd come to the right place. As we rounded the bell, Rhonda came into view, pacing quickly back and forth. She stopped when she saw us.
"Finally."
"Finally?" I lifted my brows. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"According to my vision, you were supposed to be here ten minutes ago!" She tapped the nonexistent watch on her wrist. "Oh, well. I forgive you."
Hank crossed his arms and Maple made a little noise of indignation.
"Do you know where Francis is?" Hank's voice was level, but edged with urgency.
Rhonda swept her arms to the side and we stepped forward around the bell. Francis hung upside down from his feet, hooked over a wooden beam. He wiggled a single, pale finger in greeting.
Hank let out a shaky breath. "Tell me it's not true."
Rhonda slid into Hank's view and lifted her hand with its sparkly nails. "Francis explained everything to me."
I lifted my brows. "And?"
"Get ready for it." She bit her lip. "He's not the only vampire in town."
16
Vampires
Maple let out a sigh as our friends rushed into the church. "Thank goodness you're all safe." She said all, but her eyes were only on Wiley. Cat popped his grinning head out the neck of Wiley's coat. Maple scratched between his bat ears. "And you too, little buddy."
"We barely made it," Amelia huffed. She brushed her already smooth pale pixie down. "We had to dash out the back door through the kitchen when the mob showed up in the lobby and blocked our way out."
"Mob?" I lifted my brows.
Annie nodded. "At least fifty of them now… maybe more. Looks like they're gathering in the town square." Sam hung his head, not meeting anyone's eyes. I sighed—poor guy. He was probably still upset about last night, and now we had an angry mob after us.
"So, a mob has formed… why, exactly?" Wiley's lips pulled up in a smile, but his eyes were tight.
"Follow me," Francis drawled. "And I'll explain." He'd made us wait till everyone arrived before answering any of our questions.
"Finally," I grumbled.
Hank still looked pale and he'd barely spoken since the records building. He must really be worried about his friend. I frowned as I trudged down (yes, more) stairs to an even colder room.
My eyes shifted left and right to the rows of squares set into one wall. Then the two metal tables in the center of the room caught my eye. Rhonda hopped onto one, her feet dangling.
"Rhonda," I said in a singsongy voice, trying not to alarm her. "Those are dissection tables."
She glanced down at it, puffing out her full bottom lip. "Huh." She shrugged.
Okay then, guess I didn't need to worry about alarming her. Francis floated over and scanned the row of squares until he stopped in front of one. "Ah. Here we are." He gripped the handle and pulled out the body drawer. A pale, blue and purple Bridger lay dead in one.
Maple jumped and gasped, and I wrinkled my nose.
"A little warning next time?" Wiley hugged Maple to him, shielding her eyes and averting his own. "Gross." Cat scrambled out of Wiley's jacket and perched on his shoulder.
"I'd like to show you something." Francis lifted a brow. "I came here in the wee hours of the morning, after the party. I had a suspicion and wanted to confirm it."
I guess that's why he wasn't in bed when Rhonda woke up. A little knot in my center loosened with relief for my friends. As weird as they were, they were cute together.
Francis motioned us closer.
"I think I'm good here," Wiley called. Even big, tall Yann looked greenish and queasy.
"You need to see this," Rhonda said, hopping down from the dissection table.
Reluctantly, I walked over, trying to sneak little peeks of the body, so it wouldn't be such a shocker when I got close. It was still pretty gruesome. We gathered around and Francis pointed a long, thin, manicured hand at his neck. "See that? Fang marks."
Annie jerked her head up. "You bit him?"
Francis shook his head slowly, and pushed the body drawer closed. "Not I. Lady Cordelia."
My brows must have been in my hairline, I was so shocked. "Lady Cordelia's a vampire?"
Francis nodded.
"You've always said you were the last of your kind." Hank took a shaky breath.
"I thought I was. Until last night. The moment I saw her, I knew. Something about the lack of a heartbeat. It's how sometimes silence can be deafening? A vampire can always tell another."
I frowned. "So that's why you were staring at each other all weird?"
Rhonda nodded. "He explained it to me after we caught them together in the alley." She folded her arms and cocked a brow. "I still think you should have told me right away."
Francis nodded once. "I found myself in a difficult position. You see, I've thought for many years that I was the last, only saved because of Hank's great-great-grandpa. It's a dangerous thing to be a vampire, perhaps especially in a small town like this one, where you've been hiding the truth from friends and neighbors. I didn't want to out her for no reason. I felt a certain… loyalty, as one vampire to another, to be discreet."
"Vampires before tramp, er…," I murmured, my nervous energy triggering my humor coping mechanism.
"You going for something like bros before hos?" Iggy asked. "Good luck finishing that one. Nothing rhymes with vampire."
"You should have trusted your girlfriend with the secret." Rhonda looked pointedly away.
He nodded. "Which is why I'm going to trust all of you with another one. Lady Cordelia appears to have bitten both Bridger and Eddy Kinn. After discovering Bridger's bite
marks, I arranged to meet her."
"That's why you were in the alley together." I nodded.
Francis dipped his chin. "Precisely. I wanted to hear her explanation. She was not upfront and pretended she hadn't bit him. I believe she may be dangerous, which is why I shall explain to you all how to kill a vampire."
I lifted my brows in surprise. According to Rhonda, he hadn't even shared this with her before.
"A made vampire is different from a born vampire." Francis folded his long, thin hands.
"Which are you?" Wiley asked.
"Born." Francis lifted his chin. "My father was a creature of the night—and I don't just mean he liked to party." He waited for the laughter that never came. "No? Tough crowd. Well, we that are born to non-vamp mothers and vampire fathers have extra abilities. We can fly, change to bats, teleport, to name a few. It appears Lady Cordelia flew or teleported off the tower after killing Eddy and setting the fire, which would indicate she is a born vampire. If she chooses to run, it will be difficult to stop her. But if it comes to it, and we must fight her, I want you to be prepared. To kill a vampire, you must destroy its flesh fast enough that it cannot regenerate. Fire or beheading work best."
I pressed my hands to my cheeks. "You think it'll come to that?" Happy Bruma—let's kill a vampire.
He shrugged his thin shoulders. "Perhaps. If she were a made vampire, I'd be able to stop her much easier. We shall see."
"So you're going to out her?" Hank stepped forward. "You plan to confront the mob?"
Francis's lips peeled back, revealing needle-sharp fangs. "Won't be my first mob."
"What if they don't listen?" Maple wrung her hands.
Hank swallowed. "We'll have to fight our way out."
The room grew grim and Sam whimpered.
I winced. "We can't just—I don't know, sneak out of town? Speed spell us to the next one? Good ol' bedbug-ville?"
Hank shook his head. "It's winter. The spell wouldn't get us all the way there, and then we'd be stranded without our supplies or horses. And the villagers would be able to catch us easily with theirs."