“Hopefully, you never have to show anyone how upset you are. Sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d go nuclear right away. We don’t even know for sure who is doing what.”
Aurélie reclines in such a casual, commanding way she looks like a model in a painting worthy of hanging in the Louvre. Any other woman draping herself on a sofa would merely be loafing on a couch. She makes leisure artistically regal.
“What about these ‘zombies?’ Sierra said the one guy she nutted made a big deal about them not being zombies, rather remote-controlled corpses.”
“Nutted?” Aurélie blinks, staring at me for a second. “Ahh, I see. A crude way to deal with a problem. But, alas, effective. Given her age, I do not blame her.”
Yeah, Dalton’s blood still gave her a bit of a boost. My sister had the strength of an adult man packed into the little bony knee of a twelve-year-old. Poor guy. Yeah, I know they tried to hurt my family, but it hadn’t been their idea.
“Though I am aware of the existence of less pleasant techniques, their use is not something I am well versed in. Eleanor does not possess the necessary skill set to reanimate corpses in the way you describe. True, she is an Académique, but very few of them are what you would call mystics.”
“Whoa. Wait.” I stare at her.
She flutters her fan. “Hmm?”
“Are you saying only a mystic could do the walking corpse thing?”
“Non.” She smiles. “L’Ombres, Académique, some Traditionaliste can do something similar, but the wretches do not last long and they are not, as you say, ‘remote controlled,’ mindless creatures not even as useful as rats. Disgusting and pointless. You are thinking some vampire manipulated these corpses the way you control the little people in your video games.”
“Yeah. Dalton’s explanation made me think of that. He said whoever made them could see out of their eyes and control their every motion.”
“If he is correct, it must be mystical in nature… or perhaps an unusual twist of a L’Ombre.” Aurélie pauses her fan. “I do not think it is a Shadow. Your associate, Glim, would have objected and likely warned you.”
“Definitely… if they didn’t hurt him.” I scowl at the floor. Great. Yet another thing for me to feel guilty and worried about. “Something stinks about the two idiots at the college. Way too obvious in letting me ‘accidentally’ hear they worked for Stefano. Sounded fake as hell. It’s almost like someone else is trying to trick us into starting a war.”
Aurélie nods. “I am ’aving similar thoughts. We must be careful. If they act too openly to create the appearance of ’ostility, I may be forced to respond, lest others doubt the sincerity of my decree of protection over your family.”
A knot tightens in my gut. Ugh! I hate politics! Even if she knows it’s suspicious, she might have to do something to Stefano or St. Ives. Obviously, if they’re not really involved, they’ll see whatever she does as an unprovoked attack. Not sure what to do if the poop hits the fan, especially if there’s so much poop it knocks the fan over.
“There has to be a way for you to hold off until knowing for sure who did what.” I rake my hands through my hair. “What if it is Stefano? I know it sounds really stupid, but maybe he’s expecting us to think ‘no way would he be that dumb or obvious’ and not blame him. Could he be trying to see if I’m going to ‘run to Mommy’ and tell on him? Maybe he’s finally tired of being subordinate to Wolent and this whole brewing crapstorm is a power play for the entire city. If he goads you into attacking him, it’s going to be Stefano, Paolo, and their people all coming after you, me, and my family. Would Wolent involve himself?”
“Perhaps, as you are in his circle now.” Aurélie smiles sideways at me.
It’s part approving smile, part curious to see how crazy things get. She’s happy I didn’t try to be immature or selfish and ignore the existence of vampire society. American vampires don’t really do the ‘king of regions’ thing like in Europe, but Wolent is close enough. Becoming an official vampire generally required becoming part of his empire. The only other option would’ve been going Lost One or declaring loyalty to Paolo—fat freakin’ chance—or maybe St. Ives. Again, a big no. Technically, all the elders are part of Wolent’s domain, even though they could theoretically be rivals. It’s similar to nobles in medieval times all having their personal land, armies, and estates while officially following one king.
I’d totally have joined ‘Team Aurélie’ if she cared about politics. But, honestly, her philosophy is perfect for me, too. Officially part of ‘polite vampire society,’ but no political aspirations. I’m sure Wolent would expect her to help out if any serious threat to his power came to be. Would she be able to claim neutrality and simply nod loyalty to whoever ‘took over’ in the vent Wolent fell? The two are friends, so I think she’d help him. Also, pretty sure every other vampire in Seattle is afraid of her. Compared to other elders, she’s not that deadly, but it’s hard to fight someone who charms you into calming down and going away like a nice little boy every time you step within fifty feet of her. It would simply be too frustrating to attack her.
Aurélie giggles. “You are not considering the other option.”
“Other option?” I sit up straight.
“We do not know for certain the men who attacked you—or the vampire who sent the corpses—are who they say they are.” Aurélie points her fan at me. “All you have is their word.”
“Yeah.” I lean back into the sofa, folding my arms over my chest. “But who else would attack me? St. Ives isn’t exactly a fan, but she wouldn’t go to the effort of coming after us if she didn’t have a specific goal in mind. Unless she wants to toss the Innocent in a lab and experiment on me, there’s no reason for her to use up time, energy, or resources on me.”
Aurélie taps her foot on air, thinking. “Perhaps she has discovered Sophia’s talent and wishes to study her?”
“Ack. Damn.” I start to freak out, but catch myself and stay—mostly—calm. “Going to say ‘probably not’ there. Those corpses were sent to kill, not abduct. She’d have a much easier time kidnapping one of the Aurora Aurea than Sophia, plus they’re more practiced than my kid sister. Also, grabbing one of them doesn’t come with the political baggage of pissing you off.”
“Hmm.” Aurélie gazes up at the ceiling as if watching a ghost dance by, her gaze tracing off to the left. “Eleanor also likely would have asked you if she could borrow the girl. The woman is nothing if not direct.”
I grumble. “Yeah… and she wouldn’t have any hesitation over referring to a child as an object to be used or tested.”
Aurélie sighs. “Such a tragedy for them, to lose all feeling.”
“So… if it’s not St. Ives, and you don’t think Stefano sent those men after me… who are we looking for?”
“Someone who knows ’ow the traditionalists feel about you. Someone who knows about your ’istory with Eleanor.” Aurélie fans herself again. “This may not be the same party. We should be cautious before assuming everything is related.”
Grr. “Everything happening at once is no coincidence.”
“I agree, but it does not prove a connection, merely bad timing.” Aurélie gestures to the side. “Are you thirsty?”
“Sure.” I’m not starving, but I have room. Not sure where she gets her blood from, but it’s amazing. I feel awesome after having a glass. Usually tastes like Shirley Temples or cherry soda. Yeah, the flavor thing is entirely coming from my brain, but still.
Aurélie stands and crosses the room to the mini-fridge concealed in an ornate wooden cabinet.
Oh, wow. Blood doesn’t ordinarily keep long enough to be tasty to vampires in a fridge. Like those blood packets at donation places? Blech. Even without the preservative stuff they add, blood that’s been out of a body more than fifteen minutes or so is horrible. Proof the ‘nutrition’ is more spiritual than anything physical about the blood itself. Whatever energy lingers ‘in vitae’ as Dalton says fades away reasona
bly fast. The blood coming from Aurélie’s fridge is yummy, which means she preserved it—by adding a drop or three of her blood.
This explains a few things. She’s quietly giving me a little power boost.
Aurélie smiles to herself as soon as I realize this.
Wow. It’s gotta be a rare honor for an elder her age to take such an interest in helping someone like me. Not sure what I did to deserve it, but there is no way I’m going to turn down the help.
“Here you go, my petit Cherie.” Aurélie hands me a wine glass filled with blood. “Je ne peux pas résister à un chaton errant.”
I take the glass, smiling despite having not the first clue what she said, and clink it with her in a toast. “Think it’s an outsider?”
“It may be. Or…” She sips from her glass, flaring her eyebrows. “Perhaps we have an agitator in our midst.”
11
Maximum Overkill
Sophia fired off a text message to Darren Anderson, the leader of the local Aurora Aurea.
Nicole, Priya, and Sierra, seated around her at the lunch table, talked about random normal stuff. Megan didn’t go to the same school, living closer to Woodinville. Fortunately, she had awesome parents who didn’t mind giving her a ride so she could come over. Sophia went to Megan’s house a few times as well. The first time she showed up, the girl’s parents didn’t do a good job of hiding their shock. It almost made Sophia cry to see them so surprised their daughter really did have a friend and hadn’t made ‘this girl at dance class’ up.
Some kids, she understood why they didn’t have friends. Smelled bad, acted bad, didn’t want friends, had crazy parents who didn’t allow them to have friends, or something. Megan expected everyone to make fun of her for being a bit heavy, plus tended to be quiet. Nothing about Sierra’s looks would get her teased, but she, too, tended to be quiet—and didn’t have any friends outside the ones Sophia made. Unlike Megan, being alone didn’t bother Sierra. Also unlike Megan, Sierra couldn’t really be alone. She had four siblings plus Sophia’s friends constantly around.
Beyond fixing her friends and siblings’ social lives, Sophia had a new mission: stopping zombies.
Her twice-a-month ‘classes’ at the lodge hadn’t yet gone into any practical applications of magic for the purposes of destroying undead or shielding a house from mindless fiends—probably too advanced. When she’d texted Mr. Anderson last night asking how she can keep ‘mindless fiends’ away from her home, he replied ‘having a problem with Jehovah’s Witnesses?’
Dad laughed his head off when she asked him what that meant. He still hadn’t explained it.
Obviously, Mr. Anderson intended the remark as a joke, so she pressed. She didn’t have time during class to explain what Sierra told her about the attack. Having to swear on her stuffed unicorn not to tell Mom and Dad the truth about her sister sneaking out of the house hurt, but she did it. Knowing Sierra broke a big rule and got away with it sat in her stomach like a piece of bad hamburger. Her promise to her sister got into a fight with her guilt over lying to her parents.
At least Sierra accepted a compromise. Sophia wouldn’t say anything unprompted, but if the parents ever directly asked her about it, she’d be honest. Most likely, Sierra figured if Mom or Dad were asking about it, they already knew—so no point forcing Sophia to lie.
Lunchtime offered the first opportunity for unrestricted texting with some degree of privacy. No teacher would run over, grab her phone, and see stuff they shouldn’t see. Teachers didn’t handle talk of magic and zombies well. They’d probably send her to see a counselor. Lying made her feel so guilty she couldn’t even convincingly say she talked about a book or video game. She had to keep any teacher—or other kids—from seeing her talk seriously about mystic stuff.
He responded with ‹Researching. Call when you are home.›
Whew. Sophia exhaled in relief and closed the message screen before stuffing her phone in her bag.
“Welcome back to Earth,” said Nicole. “How’s your boyfriend?”
Priya giggled.
“Not my boyfriend. He’s a tutor my parents are letting help me.”
Nicole tilted her head. “What do you need a tutor for? You’re like the smartest kid in the entire school.”
“No way. Maybe I’m kinda smart, but I’m definitely not the smartest.” Sophia picked up half of her turkey sandwich. “And everyone could use a tutor. Learning is cool.”
“Are you trying to get into high school at twelve or something?” asked Priya, still snickering.
“Not an academic tutor.” Sophia bit into her lunch.
“Drama coach,” said Sierra. “She’s working with him to help get over stage fright.”
“Oh.” Nicole shrugged and shifted the conversation back to Mr. Rose farting in math class.
Sierra, a grade ahead of them and no longer in his class, thought it hilarious. Priya and Nicole, predictably, called it gross. Sophia shifted her gaze off to the side so Nicole didn’t notice her expression. Sierra took care of the lying, but the guilt still showed plain as day on her face. With any luck, her friends would interpret it as disgust at the math teacher exploding from the butt.
Her gaze landed on a group of older boys surrounding another eighth-grade boy. They subtly shoved him back and forth while muttering. Sophia couldn’t hear them across a crowded, loud cafeteria, but the way they grinned at the other boy gave away they bullied him. The picked-on kid had on a dingy, shabby shirt and ripped jeans, also filthy. She didn’t know the boys, them being three grades ahead of her. However, simply from looking at him, she assumed the recipient of the bullying probably smelled bad due to his dirty clothes. Even an eighth-grader couldn’t be responsible for something like that. She figured he had some big problems at home, not his fault. What kid would choose to be filthy?
Other kids picking on Megan angered Sophia enough to scream at them, but she didn’t quite have the nerve to directly confront six eighth-grade boys. Still, she couldn’t sit there watching him get picked on for something out of his control. Yeah, a kid his age could probably do his own laundry, so maybe he shared some responsibility. Still, if his parents didn’t buy detergent or the machines didn’t work…
Sophia stared at the group of boys, wanting to help the kid out, but in a subtle way. Using magic at school could be risky, but how much trouble could trying to clean and repair some kid’s clothes possibly cause? Two ideas orbited around the urge to release a spell: stealth and fixing the boy’s outfit. Energetic tingles ran down her arms, creeping into her hands and gathering as a sense of warmth among her fingers—then faded.
The boys continued to pick on the dirty kid.
Umm… nothing happened.
A faint pop came from inside her backpack, about as loud as a kid clapping once. Neither her sister nor her friends appeared to notice. Sophia pretended to take a bite of her sandwich so she could look down at the pink backpack between her feet. The main zipper eased itself open, revealing a strange eight-inch tall creature. It resembled a little old man with a thick body and spindly limbs. His onion-sized head, half the size of his torso, sported a long, pointed nose and equally long pointy ears. Amber-colored faerie wings sprouted from his back through holes in a brown tunic halfway between court jester and medieval peasant. Scraps of gossamer white hair stuck out from under a cloth cap like something a commoner from the middle ages would’ve worn.
Uh oh. He looks like a winged brownie, only smaller and not as round. Sophia bit her lip. Hope I didn’t mess up.
The ‘faerie’ gave a diminutive grunt of exertion and pulled himself out of the backpack. He peered up at Sophia, looked at the boy being bullied, then made a hat tipping gesture at her before flying straight up into the air. Sophia squeaked in alarm, but no one noticed him despite his hovering in grabbing range of Sierra’s face.
Hmm, said a high-pitched, creaky voice in her head.
Sophia jumped at the unexpected telepathy. Whoa… is this what it’s like for Sarah? You,
umm can hear me?
The little man nodded.
She peered past him at her sister. Sierra? Can you hear me?
Sierra returned the look, raising a questioning eyebrow. “What?”
Say peanut butter if you can hear this.
“Why are you looking at me weird?” Sierra reached across the table to feel her forehead. “You okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” Sophia sighed. Guess it’s only because I summoned you.
The strange little faerie shrugged.
Will you please fix that kid’s clothes? He’s all dirty and probably smells bad. It’s mean those other boys are picking on him.
He glanced over at the kid, still trapped against the wall surrounded by other boys. For some reason, the teachers hadn’t done anything yet. Maybe they assumed the boys were friends and simply horsed around. The faerie looked back at Sophia, nodded once, and grinned… with a little too much mischief in his eyes.
Uh oh.
The cafeteria exploded into a mess of flying food, milk, and sprays of condiments. Screaming came from all sides as spaghetti, salad, hamburgers, cheese-steaks, squirts of mustard, and other half-eaten food items smacked kids in the face, splattered on shirts, or hit the windows at the far end of the room. Nicole and Priya screamed along with everyone else. Only two people in the entire cafeteria remained calm: Sophia and Sierra. Eighty percent—give or take a few points—of the flying food launched itself in a siege barrage at the bullies, chasing them off in a pelting of tomato sauce, melted cheese, and nachos flung like shuriken. Rachel Cartwright, two tables over and down a few seats, went wide-eyed as a strange gurgling noise came from her cup. She peered into it—and unsweetened iced tea exploded upward into her face.
The girl screamed.
Amid the disorder, the faerie zoomed over to the disheveled boy, who cowered against the wall trying to shield his face from the hail of food. With everyone focused on the flying mess, no one noticed a whirl of glowing gold light spiral around the boy. His torn, stained jeans, equally grimy T-shirt, and rotten sneakers changed into nice shoes, some manner of Aeropostale style pants, and a D&G sweater.
Vampire Innocent | Book 11 | How To Stop A Vampire War In Six Easy Steps Page 10