by Karen Mead
Dwight didn’t know what to say in response. Khalil sat up straighter.
“Like, I’m not even mad at him, you understand? I get it. I just can’t compete with that. No one can compete with that.”
“You know, maybe it’s not a competition.”
“Grant me more of your sage wisdom, O Wise One,” Khalil said bitterly.
The both jumped in their chairs when they heard footsteps, but it was just Jay. “I can’t sleep,” he said quietly.
“That’s weird, I wonder why,” Khalil deadpanned.
Jay opened the fridge. “There’s tons of beer in here!” he said, and Dwight had to crack a smile at the barely restrained glee in his voice.
“Yes there is.”
Jay looked back at them. “You guys aren’t gonna stop me from taking some?”
Dwight and Khalil exchanged glances, a small current of amusement rousing them from their general state of shellshocked exhaustion. “You almost got killed today, I think you can have a drink if you want one,” said Dwight. “Actually, while you’re in there, get me another one.”
“What kind?”
“Don’t care.”
Jay plunked a tall can in front of Dwight, then took another seat at the kitchen table. He made no move to open his own beer; maybe he felt more grown up just holding it. “I couldn’t do anything to help my Mom,” he said quietly.
“Don’t blame yourself,” said Dwight. “There was nothing you could have done.”
Jay narrowed his eyes. “You fought back,” he said. It almost sounded like an accusation.
“I’m also twice your age,” said Dwight, opening the second beer can. For once, he wished his alcohol tolerance was lower; these two beers weren’t going to come anywhere near getting him drunk.
“It’s not about that. Aeka’s even smaller than me and she always fights back,” said Jay.
“You do not want to be like her,” said Khalil. “I don’t know what happened to that girl to make her the way she is, but you don’t want it.”
There was a snapping sound as Jay opened his beer, then a gurgle of disgust as he tried to drink some. The boy managed to swallow it down with a loud, painful gulp. “That’s nasty! How does anyone drink this?!”
“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” Dwight said. Three beers: he still would not be drunk. This was aggravating.
There was silence at the table for a while, just Dwight sipping his beer. Jay was staring at the table.
“I need to take Karate or something,” he mumbled. “I need to be able to fight.”
Dwight wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t, that it was a waste of time. That there was no way Jay could hope to defend himself with beginner’s martial arts, not in this league, but instead he said nothing.
So the kid wants to learn how to defend himself—is that so bad? Just because I think he shouldn’t have to, that doesn’t mean he’s wrong. He probably won’t be able to fight worth a damn, he doesn’t have an aggressive bone in his body, but maybe it will do something for his confidence at least.
They heard footsteps coming, but they were slow and tentative; it was the sound of someone walking deliberately so not to spook them. Dmitri poked his head around the corner.
“Could you all, perhaps, trying being less loud?” he said. There was a trace of an accent in his voice that Dwight hadn’t noticed before. Maybe it only came out when he was tired.
“We’re not being loud,” said Khalil, ironically raising his voice as he did so. “Can you try sticking some cotton in your ears to blot out your super-vampire hearing?”
“Strange, we’re fresh out of cotton,” Dmitri muttered, but he pulled his head back and left them alone.
A soft blue light was just becoming visible through the window; they had all gotten to the penthouse in the wee hours of the morning, and it would be dawn soon.
“I don’t think I’m going to school today,” said Jay.
“And no one’s going to work; even with the detectives in la-la-land, there’s still a police investigation going on,” said Khalil. “DG should be closed for a while.”
Well, I finally got the time off I wanted, thought Dwight. I should try to look on the bright side here.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cassie woke up to the sound of male laughter, and it took her a moment to place where she was. Slowly, memories of the previous night came back, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if it had all been a nightmare or not. She heard Mike laugh raucously, and frowned.
What are they so happy about?
She had slept in her T-shirt and even her bra, so getting dressed was as simple as pulling her jeans back on. She walked down the upper hall of the Buckleys’ penthouse, until she reached the balcony overlooking the living room.
Mike, Jay, Ethan, Dwight, and Khalil were all playing cards together on a large coffee table. She could hear the sound of a pan sizzling from the kitchen, and the low hum of other conversations in the background. Ethan, Jay and Dwight were sitting on the couch, while Mike and Khalil played from the floor.
Khalil was shuffling through his cards. “Okay, so I take my Manticore and—”
“No, no no!” Ethan interjected. “You have to pull your magic before you can attack, remember?”
“Oh…right. Okay, so I’m pulling three purple and two gray. I’m sending my Manticore to attack Dwight for 15—”
“Dude, I’m dead. I’ve been dead,” Dwight said taking a swig of coffee out of a huge mug.
Khalil looked crestfallen. “How many turns have you been dead for?”
“Two.”
“Why did nobody tell me?”
“You have to pay attention in Sorcery,” said Ethan. He sounded like he was scolding Khalil, who sighed and threw his cards down on the table.
“Ah man, and I was massing Manticores just so I could take out Dwight’s ugly bog creatures. I’ve got nothing to defend against Ethan’s ghoul army now.”
“Or my ghoul army,” said Mike in a smug tone.
Khalil’s jaw dropped. “Since when?”
During the conversation, Cassie had come down the stairs. “Who’s winning?” she asked.
“Me,” said Mike and Ethan in unison.
“I don’t find this game to be a very enjoyable pastime,” Khalil noted.
Cassie followed the smells of food to the kitchen, where Sam was busy in front of the stove. “Cassie, it’s amazing!” called Miri from the dining room table. “Sam made me scrambled eggs and there were hardly any shell pieces in them at all.”
“There were no shells, don’t listen to her. Want anything?” he asked her.
“Two scrambled eggs and some toast, whenever you get around to it.” She opened a cabinet, only to find a king’s ransom in juice boxes. “Where does Eugene keep the mugs?”
Sam gestured to the cabinet next to him, and Cassie took out a plain white mug. As she poured herself coffee, she looked around the rest of apartment. Dmitri and Liam were sitting on a window seat, not far from where the boys were playing cards, talking quietly. Billingsly was at the dining room table with Miri, flipping through a large book in front of him. She couldn’t see Eugene, but she imagined he was probably in his office. Aeka and Nyesha weren’t around; the former was probably asleep, the latter reading in her room.
She looked at the clock; it was already noon.
This is so strange. Last night we were attacked by crazy cultists and it was all horror and blood, and now it’s like we’re having big sleepover or something. It wasn’t that she minded seeing everyone relaxing—in fact, she was glad the guys were playing cards to keep Ethan’s mind off of his latest trauma—but it was incongruous.
She nearly jumped when she turned and saw Mr. Golding on the kitchen counter. He was eating from a plate of eggs and hash browns, but stopped when her eyes found him. She guessed he was embarrassed to be seen eating like a ravenous rodent.
She looked from him to Sam and bit her lip. Part of her wanted to yell at Sam to turn Mr
. Golding human already, but she knew it wasn’t wise. That super-barrier Sam had made yesterday had been magically expensive, plus he’d made another less impressive, but still substantial barrier around the penthouse. He’d also sent the bats to patrol around places that still needed protection all over the city, like Cassie’s house and the hospital where Jay’s mother was currently recovering. It seemed like he was always too magically strained lately for her to feel right insisting that he give Mr. Golding his full attention.
We still don’t know why he got changed again in the first place. Did it have something to do with the attack last night? How does that make sense?
She sat down behind Dwight on the couch, cradling her coffee mug. Mike and Ethan both had stormy looks on their faces. “Who won?” she asked.
“I did!” said Jay, beaming with joy. “Last man standing!”
“Ethan and Mike both killed each other off in one turn with massive undead armies while Jay just defended the whole game,” said Khalil, yawning. When he opened his eyes again, she noticed that they were bloodshot. “Maybe I should try sleeping now. I haven’t slept at all yet.”
“A bunch of the beds are available now,” said Cassie. “Just go upstairs.”
Khalil yawned again and nodded. “If I have any bad dreams now, it’ll just be about Manticores and stupid bog people.”
As Khalil left the living room, he passed Eugene coming in from the other direction. “There are fresh toothbrushes in the guest bathroom, Mr. Latif,”
“Whatever,” muttered Khalil as he started up the stairs. Cassie was pretty sure he was just going to collapse face-down on the nearest bed without doing anything about his teeth.
Ethan was shuffling his cards with a quickness of hand that was a little disturbing in a boy his age. “Wanna play again?”
“Uh, that took two hours,” said Dwight.
“Yeah, but now we have four people instead of five so it’ll be quicker!” Ethan replied, but his smile faded when he realized no one else looked like they wanted to play again so fast. “Okay, fine, no big deal,” he said unconvincingly.
Mike got up off the floor and fell back into a nearby easy chair. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about last night.”
Dwight made eye contact with Mike, indicated Ethan with his chin and shook his head no, but it wasn’t subtle enough for the boy to miss. “You can talk about stuff with me here, it’s not like I don’t know what’s going on,” said Ethan quietly. Eugene sat next to Ethan on the couch, looking at Mike expectantly.
“Here’s the thing; it’s not like the information they had was all that hard to get…for demons, or vampires.” Mike began. “Half the court is spying on the other half, so all our names and addresses and stuff are out there for the right price. But how did humans get a hold of that information? They were humans, right?”
“As far as we could tell, every single one of them was human,” Eugene answered.
Mike leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Do you think some demon is using humans to do his dirty work? Like, find some sad crazy people, turn them into a cult, and then send them after his enemies? Maybe he thinks that no one will figure it out because no one expects humans to be a threat.”
“I was thinking something along the same lines,” responded Eugene, standing up and putting his hands in his pockets. “But the ritualistic manner of the attempted murders makes me wonder. They would have been more successful, and perhaps gotten some of you, if they hadn’t insisted on reciting those prayers before they killed,” he said. “Would a demon really send out an attack force to kill his enemies with such an inefficient game plan?”
“Maybe that’s the point, though,” Mike countered. “Because they seem like real religious fanatics—including the incredibly stupid part—maybe the demon figures no one will ever trace it back to him.”
Dwight looked unimpressed. “You’re playing the ‘maybe they’re doing this just to make us think they’re not doing this,’ game, you just think yourself in circles with that.”
They all turned as Sam entered from the kitchen. “Your eggs are getting cold, Cassie.”
“You didn’t tell me they were ready.”
“I did, you just weren’t listening.”
She groaned, reached past Dwight to put her coffee cup on the table, then ran to the kitchen to get the plate Sam had made for her. She didn’t want to eat in the living room and risk getting Eugene’s carpet dirty, so she leaned on the doorframe between the kitchen and the living room and ate standing up. When she could hear them again, Jay was speaking.
“—and maybe this is just me being dumb, but what if they are just crazy religious people?” he said. “Like, maybe we’re overthinking it, trying to figure out why someone would use them, when they’re not being used; they’re just crazy.”
“But then how would they know about us?” Mike countered. “Sure, they might know about The Daily Grind, lots of people online are talking about how weird stuff happens there. But the club where Dwight was playing? Miri and Nyesha’s apartment? My house?” he said, a little unsteady by the time he got to the last part. He’d actually been the luckiest last night, since Miri had found the deranged cultist that was headed for Mike long before the man had entered the house, but it was still frightening to think about.
“I mean, who the hell knows about me? I’m not special, I don’t have any magic,” he continued. “The only people who know about me are the people at court who keep detailed records of everyone’s familiars and human servants.”
“The timing is weird, also,” added Sam. “I don’t know what my odds are, but a lot of demons must be hoping that I’ll disappear for good after this weekend. Why go through all the trouble of killing me if the court might essentially do it for them?”
Cassie had been wondering that herself. “Maybe they think the court is going to rule in your favor?” she said. She honestly did wonder what the consensus of opinion was among the other demons as to Sam’s chances of acquittal.
“Even so, why not wait a few more days and be sure?” Sam replied.
“Maybe you weren’t the target,” Mike added. His mind seemed to be relishing the puzzle. “I mean, why waste manpower killing the puny humans in the entourage if they wanted to get to you? Maybe that suicide bomber was a Hail Mary, and they never really expected it to work.”
“We need to speak to the surviving terrorists,” said Eugene. “I was going to suggest it anyway, but may as well do it now.”
Sam seemed to think about that, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window as he did so. A few bats flew by; normally, they wouldn’t still be awake by now. “Hmm, I wonder. Are they still in police lock-up? Or have they been moved to the county jail already?”
“You’re forgetting something,” Miri called, strolling into the room.
“And that is?”
She put her hands on her hips. “We beat them all up really bad. They can’t be in jail if they’re still in the hospital, right?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Liam paused on the sidewalk before entering the hospital, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his face. He had been able to daywalk again for almost a week now, but he still wasn’t used to just how good the sunlight felt on his skin.
“Are we going to go in?” asked Dmitri from behind him. “Or are you getting a tan?”
Liam picked up the pace. “You’re heartless.”
The other vampire grinned. “Not at all. I am simply aware that the sun will still be here when we return.”
“I hope so,” said Liam, then he walked through a set of automatic doors to Silver Cross Hospital.
They had entered through the lobby, so there wasn’t any medical machinery in sight, but Liam still felt mildly uncomfortable. He didn’t like hospitals; his last memories of his human life were of dying of influenza in a hospital, and he didn’t like being reminded of it. He knew Dmitri felt much the same, but still, they had a job to do.
Liam walked up to the hospitality desk, wh
ere a man with glasses and thinning hair was busy doing something on a computer. He leaned in close, so that no one else could hear.
“Get me the charts on the terrorists that were brought into the ER last night.”
It was no good; the man was looking at the computer, and wasn’t paying enough attention to Liam to get pulled into the command. “Pfft, yeah, sure. Where are you from, anyway, the news?” He made the mistake of looking up, then Liam had him.
“Get me the charts on the terrorists that were brought in to the ER last night. Be quick about it,” Liam said.
The man shot up out of his chair and went running to do as he was bid. A clerk sitting a few seats down from him watched him go with a raised eyebrow, but then returned to a conversation she was having with a patient. Between himself and Dmitri, they could hypnotize anyone else who took notice of what they were doing, but such steps were rarely necessary; people saw what they expected to see. The woman probably assumed that her colleague was making a sudden trip to the bathroom.
“Your technique needs work,” Dmitri chided as they waited in the lobby. “If you do it properly, you can get them even if you can’t see their eyes.”
Liam shrugged. In truth, he was embarrassed that he was still a little clumsy when it came to hypnosis, even after all this time, but he wasn’t going to give his old friend the satisfaction of admitting to that. “I’m still better at it than our master.” Dmitri had to laugh at that. Liam chuckled softly as well.
It was strange. Their current master was capable of feats of magic the likes of which they had never seen before, yet seemed to have no ability to command anyone who wasn’t his familiar. To Liam, a demon who couldn’t make others do his bidding with ease was like a dolphin that couldn’t swim, so he was continually baffled by it.
Still, there was something rather comforting about a master who actually didn’t have total control over you. Quentin had been insufferable with that, commanding them to do things for him that they would have done anyway, had he just asked. The more he thought about it, the more Liam appreciated his current situation; as usual, Eugene had known what he was doing.