Before the movie, we told Mom and Dad two vampires attacked us over the current ‘issue’ going on—not personal. Sam said, ‘we kicked their asses,’ which the ’rents took to mean I did the ass kicking while Sam watched.
My guilt is about half from not telling the parents about Sam’s ability to enchant himself with magical wings. Neither of us know how often he can do it, if it only works in a serious emergency—like falling from 1,500 feet up—or if he can use them whenever he wants. I’m sure he’s not going to waste time trying to figure it out.
I’m also anxious as heck over this new development. My brother is expanding his ‘demon army.’ Good grief, I made a joke about Pokémon before, but he’s really doing it. He’s already got Blix with him pretty much constantly. We have a hellhound in the back yard. Olmaz is living in his closet, and Mel came out of nowhere to get all flamey. Does that mean he can ask them for help whenever and wherever he is, or do they have to be nearby? Also, will they exact some kind of payment for doing favors?
Not worried yet. Mel said she owed him ‘a few’ for releasing her. Crisping one butthead vampire probably didn’t put her out too much. Also, she crisped a butthead vampire in an instant. I probably should be extremely careful around her. Don’t want to piss her off.
I want to scream WTF at the top of my lungs, but Mom would yell at me for swearing.
So, instead, I stare at the ceiling and mentally scream WTF.
What is happening to my family and how much of this is my fault? Sam’s odd connection to demons appears to have started with the imps arriving, which happened because of Sophia. Technically, the mystics ‘activated’ her when they subjected her to magic. Kinda like a superhero origin story. She got exposed to ‘arcane radiation’ and developed powers. I could blame the mystics for Sam and Sophia. Of course, the mystics wouldn’t have turned Sophia into a human spy drone if I hadn’t been a vampire who Coralie contacted for help recovering her remains from their vault.
Bad—or morally grey—people doing bad—or morally grey—things is not my fault.
I repeat this to myself a dozen times.
It’s like Dad says… a mushroom vendor problem. Who has the better morels?
If a cop recovers stolen goods and the criminal shoots him for it, it’s the criminal’s fault. Not the cop’s fault for doing his job or even becoming a cop in the first place. My becoming a vampire is not to blame for everything to happen after it.
Exhale. I almost believe myself.
Honestly, kids are expected to grow wings eventually… just not so literally. I swear if Sophia sprouts angel wings next month, I am going to lose my mind. Pare it back, Sarah. Pare it back. Anxiety goblins are manageable. Sam didn’t seem to mind this new development. Kids are usually pretty good at sensing bad guys and he’s not the slightest bit afraid of any of his new ‘friends.’ Once he put his wings away, his back didn’t have any unusual marks or protrusions. No horns.
Really hope the demons are as nice as they’re claiming to be. Sam can be naïve and trusting—not as much as Sophia. My brother does have a reasonably keen ability to smell BS.
I’ll have to trust it, at least for now.
Surprisingly, the ’rents didn’t press for too much detail about the vampire attack despite Sam being with me. Maybe because he seemed unfazed by it. Dad thinks it’s an adventure, and Mom’s started treating all the crazy stuff like normal, everyday goings-on. Take Sophia to dance class on my way to have a diplomatic meeting with a woman who’s 357 years old. You know, ordinary stuff the eldest daughter is expected to do. It’s Mom’s way of dealing. Technically, this stuff is normal—to us.
Sam said demons are more like humans than our folklore would suggest. They’re not all diabolical and evil. Who knows? Maybe he’s right. Wouldn’t be the first time bad public relations has done serious damage to an entire group.
Look at pitbulls.
Ugh. Come on sunrise. Hurry up and knock me out so I can stop roasting in the fires of my guilty conscience.
25
Dutiful
Everyone has a demon or two in their closet, but my brother takes it to a whole new level.
Given the craziness of what happened, I stayed home all day Sunday. Yeah, my weak self caved in and told the parents about the museum, the succubus, and the wings. Predictably, Mom started to declare I’m not allowed to fly with my siblings anymore out of fear of attack and dropping them until Dad pointed out Sam could apparently now fly. I decided not to mention the kids going through the mirrorverse is technically more dangerous than flying with me. Without Blix to guide them, they might never find a way out and spend the rest of their lives wandering endlessly in a bizarre, confusing landscape incomprehensible to mortal minds—like they’d become separated from the parents at Ikea.
I did say this current warfare going on wouldn’t last forever—or hopefully much longer. Once random vampires are no longer trying to start problems between Seattle’s elders, it won’t be a problem for me to carry them around… at least until they grow up a bit more. Taking a pigeon to the face at 120 MPH hurts, but it won’t make me drop one of my siblings. Eventually, however, they’ll become too big to carry. I gave Ashley a ride once and… let’s just say ‘graceful’ is not the word to describe it.
Talking about the chances of random attack get me wondering what the hell a pair of agitator vampires were doing halfway between Olympia and Seattle. ‘Hey look, there’s one of Wolent’s people’ is what the guy yelled. I don’t believe they came after me specifically. They happened to be there and spotted me. So, what the heck were they doing so far south? Maybe the ‘red-eyed-man’ I saw in those mortals’ heads lives down there? Honestly, I know thing zero about vampires in Olympia. Could be, whoever is stirring this pot of poop lives there and those two had been on their way north to Seattle intent on causing problems.
So, despite having Hunter over Sunday night, as soon as it became dark enough to think Wolent would reasonably be awake and ready to receive a phone call, I did what any dutiful new employee would do… and told the boss. He sounded concerned as well as angry in equal parts, and wanted to see me right away.
Argh. Seriously, universe? What do you have against me spending time with Hunter?
Arthur Wolent meets me in the foyer of his giant house.
It’s nice having Aziz behind me watching the door. Normally, I’m not a violent person, but it would be awesome to watch him slap the hell out of ‘Claude.’ No, it’s not his name. I just call him that because it sounds like ‘clawed.’ Hope the dude has trouble sitting down for a couple days.
“Sarah… tell me what happened.” Wolent walks up to me and does this odd European type greeting where he kinda sorta kisses me on the cheek but not really.
I do have dignity, but I’m not above liking this guy treating me like a daughter. Being an Innocent doesn’t give me a wide variety of powers, but I might as well use the ones I’ve got. Supernatural cuteness isn’t going to be useful everywhere. If it endears me to a man like Wolent and makes him protective of me, I’ll take it. Wish it worked on jackasses like Mohawk. Guess it means Wolent is really not a bad guy inside. And no, I’m not afraid of him… just the Fury button. It’s like having your grandpa—who you trust completely—walk around always carrying a live hand grenade he brought back from the war.
We move into the living room. I sit on a vast burgundy couch, Wolent facing me on the other side of a coffee table in a plush wingback chair. Feels like I’ve stepped into a crazy movie where they’re recreating Bram Stoker’s Dracula as this hybrid mix of 1800s and modern world. Kinda like the Shakespeare movie with DiCaprio. Anyway, I give him the whole story starting with my little brother asking me for help.
“So what happened with these two miscreants? Where did they go?” asks Wolent.
“One ran off back toward Olympia. The other… he’s probably still in my clothes.”
“Pardon?” He tilts his head. “In your clothing?”
“Yeah… as a f
ine dusting of ashes.”
Wolent’s eyebrows almost wind up on the back of his neck when I describe ‘Crow’ exploding to cinders in an instant. Hopefully, I’m not giving him any ideas of recruiting my little brother as a weapon.
“It’s a strange situation I’m still trying to wrap my head around. It’s kinda like a little kid having a dangerous assassin for an acquaintance.” I smooth my hands down my jeans until I’m gripping my knees. “He can ask her for help but no guarantee she will… or that she won’t demand some kind of payment from him. Unpredictable.”
Wolent nods once. “Demons…. Interesting. You’d likely be best off not letting Eleanor get wind of it.”
“Oh, yes, sir. Trust me. Not planning on it. Besides, she’d reject the existence of demons because they’re not sciencey.” I chuckle. Can’t say it isn’t tempting to tell Stefano and Paolo my little brother could potentially ash them over in an instant in hopes it keeps them away from my family… but doing so could blow up in my face. Better they think I—and my family—are harmless.
Wolent leans back, rubbing his chin. “Olympia… there are a few vampires there. Mostly anarchists, which fits. A small group of civilized vampires dwell there also. None I can think of who’d gamble with their existence to destabilize Seattle.”
I sit there in silence, having nothing further to add.
“I appreciate you bringing this to my attention.” Wolent pats the armrests of his chair before standing. “At least we have a place to start looking. Go on and have a nice time with your boyfriend.”
“Thank you, sir.” I turn to leave.
“Oh, Sarah?”
“Hmm?” I peer back at him.
Wolent smiles. “I have no plans to involve your young siblings in our affairs. That said, if ever a situation arises to threaten us in the most serious of ways, do you anticipate he would be willing to offer whatever assistance he might be capable of?”
Yeah, I am naïve and have a strong tendency to trust and be loyal to authority figures, of which Wolent is one. He’s been nothing but nice to me and my family, so yeah… I imagine Sam would be willing to involve himself—technically asking Olmaz or Mal for a favor—if something seriously dire happened. Since I’m involved officially now, if another vampire faction does make open war on us, they’d see me as part of this ‘crew’ and come after me, too. By extension, my family as well. As soon as I think of him as ‘part of my family,’ Wolent smiles.
“Probably if it’s serious,” I say. “But you know he is only nine.”
Wolent nods. “I wouldn’t ask. Leave it to yours and his judgement. Merely saying if something out there ever looks like it might destroy us all…”
“Definitely.”
Hopefully, I can absorb whatever demand or payment Mel makes of Sam instead of him.
26
A Bit Too Much for Mom to Handle
Speaking of succubi, I came close to being one Sunday night.
Hunter crashed pretty hard after we finished, and spent the night in my bed. It almost felt as if I’d drained his energy. In the remaining hours before sunrise knocked me out, I divided my time between schoolwork and wondering about the true nature of succubi. Human folklore is starting to seem notoriously misinformed. It’s almost like certain political groups made up stories completely out of their butts in order to convince people to hate demons, vampires, and other supernatural beings blindly.
I mean, a succubus being embarrassed about having no clothes on? Maybe the whole sexually charged thing about them was made up by horny monks hundreds of years ago. I mean, you lock a bunch of dudes away from society and forbid them from going near women, their frustrations are bound to come out in other ways. Gawd, hope it’s all exaggerated about succubi. My kid brother having Mel on supernatural speed dial is a straight up Weird Science scenario. Not so bad now, but in like five years when he’s a teenager? Looking at her is going to have an entirely different effect on him.
Even if she doesn’t have charm powers.
Who knows what succubi are really like? Maybe all it means is a demon who is both female and looks exactly like a human—instead of having like wings and hooves. People in the Middle Ages were not exactly progressive when it came to gender equality. Being female at all was seen as evil to some people. Temptresses and so forth. Men who had no willpower blamed women for their inability to control themselves.
I’ll back-burner my anxiety over a succubus hanging out with my brother until I know more about them.
Anyway… Wolent has people going to Olympia to look around. He hasn’t asked me to do it, thankfully—probably because he’s being protective or wants to send more of an ass-kicker to deliver the sort of message one can’t write on an old timey scroll. Someday, I’ll be able to handle those deliveries, too. It’s out of character for me, but I do kinda look forward to being more of a badass even if all it’s ever useful for is self-defense.
It’s Tuesday now.
I turned in my Poe paper yesterday. Fingers crossed the grade is decent. Professor Connolly dumped some sixty pages of reading on us for bio tonight. I’ve been home from class barely five minutes, enjoying the freedom of escaping my pants. Since my plans do not include going anywhere tonight, I changed into one of my long T-shirts. Weird. I don’t remember the exact moment the idea of wearing pajamas or a nightgown struck me as ‘lame’ or childish. Sophia adores nightgowns. No surprise there. The frillier, the better. You’d think Sierra would go for PJs, but she’s also kind of a fan of the nightgown, though not so much for the frills. Sam’s a coin flip between pajamas or briefs to sleep in. Depends on how tired he is before bed. Sometimes, he’s just too tired to finish changing.
Right. I have homework to do.
At 10:13 p.m., the ghostly form of Coralie appears next to me, still in the same black, quasi-frilly 1900s style dress I first saw her in. Lucky for her, she’s a ghost and wearing the same outfit every day for a century doesn’t get funky.
“Sarah!” Coralie attempts to grasp my arm but only turns a spot cold. “Sierra is quite likely to die if you do not help her.”
“Shit!” I jump out of my chair. “Do I have time to get dressed?”
She nods. “Yes. And bring your sword.”
Craaaaap. Sierra, what are you doing? I rush into a pair of jeans and trade the long sleep shirt for a normal tee. While I’m scrambling into my clothes, Coralie pokes a finger at my iPhone, which unlocks itself and opens Google Maps. She stares at the phone, watching the app scroll to a location and highlight it with one of those orange pointer things.
If a 189-year-old woman can work an iPhone, Grandma Sheridan has no excuse.
The phone indicates a warehouse near the docks next to West Queen Anne.
I pick up the phone. “Thank you!”
Coralie makes an urgent face at me. She’s worried about Sierra, too. I don’t even stop to wonder what the hell my twelve-year-old sister is doing all the way in downtown Seattle at this hour. As the news guy always asks, it’s after 10:00 p.m. and I do know where the child is. Problem being, she’s somewhere she shouldn’t be.
I drop an F-bomb, grab the katana, and run out into the basement, up the stairs, and straight out the patio door. Sierra’s life is in danger. No time to tell the parents where I’m going or grab my sneakers. Sword in one hand, phone in the other, I fly so fast my clothing ignites. Just kidding. Feels like the wind is about to rip my shirt off, but it doesn’t. Yeah, fear and worry definitely affect my flight speed.
The general vicinity of my destination is easy to spot from the air. Two giant ‘prongs’ stick into Elliot Bay at the north end. Coralie put a map marker on a warehouse type building a little east of it across the train tracks.
I land on the roof beside a small, raised outbuilding and approach the single door. It’s tiny, only big enough for a stairway so maintenance people can access the HVAC equipment up here. Male voices inside sporadically shout things like ‘check over there’ or ‘she couldn’t be far.’
&
nbsp; My heart races. They’re hunting my sister.
The door’s locked. Big surprise there, right? I could be quiet and try to nudge the retaining bar aside with a claw… but making noise will distract whoever is chasing my sister away from her. So, I go full barbarian. Whenever Dad runs D&D for us and we encounter a locked door in a dungeon, Sophia wants to be careful and quiet, check for traps, and make sure no one gets hurt. Sierra usually ignores her and kicks doors down. Sam usually stands twenty feet back in either case. Can’t help but think it’s appropriate to use her methods when her butt is on the line.
Kicking a steel door that opens outward isn’t a great idea. I’d make a ton of noise, but it wouldn’t bother the door much beyond denting it. I grab the knob and pull until the latch plate breaks out of the doorjamb. Not the loudest possible way to open a door—no, the loudest way to open a door involves plastic explosives—but if the people hunting my sister are vampires, they definitely heard me.
Strangely, the searching shouts don’t stop. Maybe they think one of their guys bumped into something. I rush down a switchback stair to another door and emerge on a catwalk overlooking a huge warehouse. Most of the room below me contains massive two-story-tall steel shelves piled high with pallets of various consumer goods. This is not an abandoned warehouse. None of this stuff looks old. Vampires tend to have a fairly loose grasp of property rights. They likely helped themselves to the building.
From my elevated vantage point, I spot about half a dozen people searching the aisles between shelves and checking forklifts. A late-twenties woman in a black sweatshirt and BDU pants stands guard at a door all the way at the other end, holding an AK-47. She appears to be the only one carrying a firearm. A few of the others carry collapsible batons, knives, or pipes. Three don’t have any visible weapons.
Vampire Innocent | Book 11 | How To Stop A Vampire War In Six Easy Steps Page 24