by J S Hazzard
At Billy’s request, Robert and I both approached the stage, Amy squeezing my hand before we separated. As I’d already known, Robert was slated to speak first.
Several minutes into Robert’s discussion, I began to relax. Amy and I had anticipated all of his arguments and there were no surprises. It helped that Robert was a terrible public speaker, peppering his phrases with ‘um’ and occasionally forgetting points he’d begun to make. He was also dull. I’d prepared for a typical Robert rant that would rouse the crowd, but he spoke with little conviction.
After all my preparation, I had no trouble speaking my words with confidence. Still, the more the crowd appeared to take my side, the smugger Robert looked. Fighting to stay focused, I made my concluding remarks, convinced I’d done both a far better job than Robert and the best I was capable of.
Stepping back, I waited for Blowhard to call the vote, but Robert interrupted him, whispering and gesturing. I tensed and braced for a blow as Blowhard approached his own podium.
“Ladies and gentlemen, though it’s unusual, Mr. Rouchecrag has requested to appear as a character witness for his own argument. Since the subject of the petition was already aware of Mr. Rouchecrag’s intent to speak today, I see no harm in allowing this. However, in the interest of fairness, Ms. Strong will be permitted to follow with a character reference of her own before the vote. Mr. Rouchecrag will take the floor in two minutes.”
Stunned, I stood motionless as Robert approached me and spoke quietly. “I’ve saved the best for last.” His mouth quirked up on one side, weirdly reminding me of Amy. “My character reference will discuss your more private activities.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” My mind was frantic, but my voice was steady.
“Well, if you need a reminder, I’m sure everyone will enjoy hearing how you spend your time with the Carriero boy.”
Though my stomach felt like I’d swallowed Keanu’s electric mixer, I tried to stay calm. “I had no idea you cared so much about my sex life, Robert. Should I be flattered?” I summoned a sneer, but it wasn’t my best.
His answering chuckle made my stomach quiver. “We both know I have no interest in the sexual activities of a virgin whore who sells her blood to the highest bidder.”
My stomach plummeted and I couldn’t hide my shock. I didn’t know how, but he knew the truth. And Nicky wasn’t even here to contradict him. It would be my word against his.
“Don’t worry, Rory,” he said mockingly. “If you concede the trial and agree to leave—taking your mother with you, of course—no one ever need know. I can keep a secret. I’ll ask for a fifteen minute break so you can think it over.”
Numb, I stepped down from the platform, bumping into Beverly on my way to Amy. Fighting tears, I took her arm and pulled Amy aside. “We need to talk.”
Thirteen minutes later, with Amy’s full support, I’d made my decision. I would call Robert’s bluff and let him speak. Even if he’d guessed my illegal activities, they’d be damn difficult to prove.
Straightening my spine and preparing to express shock and indignation when accused, I resumed my spot at the podium. Meeting Robert’s eyes, I turned my head the tiniest bit to the left and to the right, gripping the podium tighter when I saw he’d understood. With his face darkening, he took his place and nodded to Blowhard, indicating he was ready to proceed.
Blowhard looked flushed and annoyed, and I reflected that making everyone wait in the humidity hadn’t helped my cause. I could smell the heat and frustration of the crowd. They’d get ugly when they heard the accusations and I’d be lucky if the mob didn’t turn physical. I held my breath as Blowhard lifted his gavel.
“Wait!” Eyes wild and dress rumpled, Beverly came sprinting into the square, flapping her arms and shrieking in an extremely un-Beverly-like voice. She had so much momentum she plowed straight into Amy before coming to a stop. “As the closest friend of Eleanor Strong, I demand two minutes to counsel Aurora in her absence. I have vital information she needs to know.”
I paused on the edge of the stage, unsure of how to respond and wondering where Beverly had gone. Still, she was my mom’s best friend, though why she thought this allowed her to interrupt legal proceedings I didn’t know. If she’d had useful information I couldn’t imagine why she’d waited to share it. Besides, the majority of the square clearly thought Bev sounded like a lunatic. It might not be wise to align myself with her at this point.
Clearly, Amy was of the latter view, whispering furiously, “You can’t go with her! You’ll look as crazy as she does!”
As I was about to tell Blowhard to proceed, I recognized the object in Beverly’s outstretched hand—a deep crimson envelope. My decision was instantaneous. “Robert received fifteen minutes. I have to insist I be allowed five.”
Without waiting for an answer, I grabbed Beverly’s hand and raced to my prep area with Amy right behind us. Once we were out of earshot, I went straight to the point. “Explain, and explain fast.”
Bev pressed her hand to her side and gasped for breath. “The letter… is from Nickleby. It’s about Robert’s… daughter… Sara.”
Amy looked puzzled. “Robert has a daughter?” She turned to me. “Did you know that?”
I shrugged and spoke quickly. “She left to get married decades ago and moved far away. Supposedly Robert hated the guy, but no surprise there.”
Bev offered me the envelope, still wheezing. “Not… married. She was Eleanor’s… friend… Read.”
“Four minutes,” Amy cautioned.
I tore the letter from its envelope, feeling a small thrill of excitement even under the circumstances, and read it aloud:
Dear Eleanor,
As you requested in your previous letter, I discreetly reached out to my contacts at the International Blood Banks in Toronto and New York City. After three weeks of waiting, I am pleased to say I’ve solved the mystery you shared with me last month.
Your friend, Ms. Sara Rouchecrag, has been located in Toronto, where she registered at the local Blood Bank back in February.
I have also learned that Ms. Rouchecrag has recently accepted an entry-level position in a factory assembling home appliances. If it would please you, I am in a position to offer Ms. Rouchecrag a higher paying job in our Toronto offices. Let me know.
It was my absolute pleasure to assist you, and I do hope you’ll contact me with any future requests.
Sincerely,
Lawrence Nickleby
Of the two of us, Amy recovered first. “Holy shit. Three minutes.”
Still panting, Bev pushed on. “That’s why he hates Eleanor. Not because she published Mass Conversions, but because his daughter went to the cities after she read it.” She sucked in another breath of air.
“Sara was never happy here, but Robert refused to see it. He created the story about her marriage to spare himself the humiliation of a daughter who’d given herself over to the vampires. He blamed your mother for being a bad influence.”
“Two minutes.”
Beverly ignored Amy. “Eleanor hadn’t known Sara’s plan, and worried about her for weeks. Then she decided to ask Nickleby, and he found her in Toronto. Nora did ask Nickleby to give Sara the job, and as far as I know, she still works there.”
“Does Robert know?” I was so stupefied I could barely speak.
“He does. Eleanor told him and he was furious—went into a rage and insisted she was lying. Rory, I promised Eleanor I’d never say a word about this to anyone, but you need to use this against Robert. I heard that snake threatening to lie about you and there’s no secret he wants kept more than this one.”
“One minute,” Amy warned. “Whatever you want to do, you need to do it now.”
Beverly nodded. “Go now. Run. I’ll catch up.”
We made it back right as Robert was approaching his podium and I grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “You’re going to withdraw your petition.”
Robert smirked. “And why would I do that?”
My voice was inaudible to everyone but him. “Because if you don’t, I’ll use my rebuttal time to tell the entire square the truth about Sara. And because, unlike whatever you think you know about me, this letter serves as proof of my accusations. Sara now works for Immortal Media in Toronto. But if you withdraw your petition right now, and never bother my mother or me again, I promise I won’t say a word about this to anyone who doesn’t already know.”
Instead of turning red, the blood left Robert’s face and I took a step back. I’d never seen such rage on anyone’s face, but I knew I’d won. Hopefully I’d feel happy about it later.
Robert staggered toward Blowhard and the other council members, and two minutes later it was over. (Poor Blowhard looked rather dazed as he gave the announcement.) I held my head high as the petition was withdrawn and gave the council a nod of acknowledgement.
Forcing a smile, I descended from the makeshift stage and slid my arms through Amy’s and Beverly’s. “A win by default is still a win, right?”
Amy frowned. “This bullshit isn’t worth one more moment of your time—of any of our time. It’s over, and Mom bought an incredible chunk of cow earlier in anticipation of your victory dinner. Let’s get the hell out of here and she’ll cook us a feast.”
My smile becoming less forced, I squeezed each of their arms in turn. “You know, I’ve been meaning to learn more about cooking myself. That sounds like the best offer I’ve heard in weeks.”
Probably because it was.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I considered it a sign of maturity that I stopped thinking about the hearing after a week or two, or maybe it was simply that I had less time to worry as the delivery schedule picked up pace. Still, even if it was only for a few minutes a day, I couldn’t stop wondering what the verdict would’ve been had I let the trial reach a conclusion—or how Robert had learned about my entrepreneurial activities with Nicky.
For the first week, I’d been on eggshells, terrified that Robert would retaliate somehow—either by going back on his word or by flat out trying to hurt me. His every look made it clear that he hated me now more than ever before, but I was careful to avoid him. With my newly developed timeliness and the lengthy days of summer, plus the help of my ‘borrowed’ truck, I was able to get home well before sunset even without using the tunnels. Not that I was holding classes regularly these days. With the increase in Nicky’s August deliveries, I wasn’t even home for days at a time.
As unpleasant as delivery days were, we had them down to a science by now. After each trip, the healthy vampire would carry the other inside and I’d clean him up. Then, whoever was incapacitated remained in the light deprivation room and I’d spend a few hours strategizing with whoever was healthy.
Though I never forgot Ian and Keanu were vampires, after a while it became less important. We were united in our goal of helping the Carrieros, and it thrilled me to have made progress there. Since my hearing, Ian and Keanu had found five more traces of Nicky’s scent in the Niagara Falls area, each accompanied by the scent of a different vampire, giving them five new scents to track.
None of the scents matched the one Eggplant had left in the house. Wherever Nicky was, he’d made a few friends. My greatest fear was that they were all feeding on him, but judging from Ian’s attitude toward sharing, that wasn’t likely.
Whoever these new vampires were, Keanu and Ian had combed the Niagara Falls area for every trace of their scent. We now had a large map with pushpins—a different color for each vampire—marking the locations Keanu and Ian had identified.
Though the scents had been found throughout the city and almost never repeated, a pattern had emerged, forming a radius around four city blocks. The area was the equivalent of a vampiric ‘gated community’, one of several adapted by the power plant to house their employees. Our current theory was that Nicky was being held somewhere in this area, but unlike the greater Niagara Falls area where strangers could blend in, this small community where everyone knew each other presented a challenge.
For one thing, the community’s only entrance required a fingerprint scan not unlike the ones I’d grown accustomed to. And while Ian and Keanu could mimic the appearance of a resident enough to pass muster, not even vampiric vision could see a fingerprint pattern well enough to perfect it without close examination.
A daytime search wasn’t much of an option either, what with the potential harm to humans. No humans lived in the area—that was forbidden—and the power company supplied wireless cameras to each house to monitor the area. Discreetly placed and frequently relocated, these cameras existed to detect human presence in the daytime—prevention by threat of retaliation.
A human caught in a vampire community earned an immediate death sentence, not only for himself, but for anyone deemed to have a relationship with the perpetrator. This included not only the obvious family members, but friends, neighbors and co-workers. Though I’d suggested Ian or Keanu ‘create’ a human that didn’t look like anyone, I’d been told a human would be found to punish anyway. So that plan was out.
Still, we muddled along and continued our tracking efforts, our ideas for breaching the community getting more improbable and outlandish as August dragged on. By the time we’d completed our grand finale of six deliveries in a row, our search had ground to a halt, which didn’t matter. We were incapable of doing anything anyway.
Granted, we’d always known the last deliveries would be the worst. Six consecutive days didn’t allow much recovery time and by the end we were all miserable.
The weather had cursed us with blazing sunshine on all six days and Ian and Keanu were both in the light deprivation room—sleeping it off so to speak. I felt almost as sick as they did. As Keanu’s illness worsened, he’d required more blood from Ian. Then, when Ian weakened, he’d required more blood from me.
If I wasn’t borderline anemic, I’d be shocked.
In addition to the sun and blood loss, the manual labor had also taken its toll, on me more than the vampires. As they’d grown weaker I’d taken on more of the heavy lifting—literally. Every muscle was exhausted. It even hurt to smile, not that I wanted to.
I doubted Ian or Keanu felt much urge to smile either. The last time I’d checked on them they’d resembled corpses. Keanu’s bronzed skin was pasty beige and Ian’s fair complexion verged on translucent. Given the amount of blood I’d lost, I looked ashy too. Even my hair felt faded.
When I’d left Ian in the light deprivation room earlier, Keanu was still wearing his rags from yesterday and I’d left Ian in his. They were also both on the floor—Keanu still where he’d collapsed yesterday. Neither had reached the sofa or bed and I lacked the strength to help. (At one point I’d fallen asleep on the floor beside them.)
On top of the physical discomfort, I was bored witless. Over the past week I’d watched all the ‘Star Wars’ films, read four new books, taken endless baths for my sore muscles and, earlier in the week, I’d spent five hours mastering Keanu’s famous Belgian waffle recipe. My nails and toes were perfect, I was too full of waffles to eat and the idea of moving made me want to throw up. (Or maybe that was my waffles.) I was even tired of wallowing in self-pity.
Maybe it was the thought of moving that did it, but somehow the gilded harp back in the guest rooms popped into my head and I brightened at a new potential time waster. Granted, I had no clue how to play but surely Vampoogle could help.
It took me two painful minutes to limp to the guest rooms and only two seconds of being in them to realize my plan wouldn’t work. I hadn’t been here since Nicky’s abduction and returning made my flesh crawl.
Harp lessons would have to wait until the guys could carry the instrument elsewhere. Not that I couldn’t lift it, but knowing Ian it had belonged to royalty or something.
Despite my nerves, I decided to take a quick stab at the computer anyway. Even if I couldn’t play the harp, I could still read about it. It would only take a minute to print enough to keep me occup
ied till bedtime. Besides, I wasn’t as jittery in the bedroom because it held fewer memories of Nicky. (It also didn’t have a missing square of carpet where he’d nearly bled to death.)
A few clicks later I had a lengthy string of documents queued for printing, everything from diagrams to the history of the harp—even instructions on reading music. After I’d gathered my still-warm papers, I paused before approaching the bedroom door. My last exit from this room hadn’t gone well.
Tiptoeing for no reason, I was almost to the living room exit when I felt a draft as the front door swung noiselessly open. Then my hands went limp at my sides and my tidy stack of papers fluttered to the floor with a soft rustling.
Eggplant had returned, in all her purple glory.
We both froze as we stared at each other. No surprise, she recovered first.
Her soft southern drawl was in direct contrast with her words. “Look at me, stay quiet and don’t move a muscle. I know it’s not much consolation, but this wasn’t part of the plan and I won’t enjoy it.” She kept her eyes locked on mine as she moved toward me and I decided she did look regretful.
Or maybe she looked pissed.
I scanned the room for a weapon, but nothing looked helpful. Then Eggplant’s frown changed to an expression of consternation that ended up costing the vampire her life.
Her confusion reminded me that I shouldn’t have been able to break eye contact. It hadn’t been intentional, but it was significant. This creature had no control over me and I was free to do the logical thing under the circumstances.
I screamed at the top volume my lungs could produce.
Eggplant had turned back to the door before my mouth had fully opened, let alone closed. It was a testament to her agility that she almost made it to the doorway.
Almost.
Ian and Keanu didn’t stop to open the living room door, choosing instead to come straight through the walls on either side like wrecking balls in old demolition footage. I didn’t see Keanu leap into the air but I saw him land because he ended the maneuver in a defensive crouch in front of me, shoving me back against the intact wall between the living room and bedroom.