by Rob Cornell
“They were smoking us out. Literally. Their aim was high, the flamethrower was at the front, and when we cleared the house, none of them tried to shoot us down.”
“When you say ‘us,’ who do you mean?”
I didn’t want to talk about Mom with Toft. A protective instinct, even though he knew who she was, might have known her before I had been born, by reputation at least. I doubt they had met. Still, the only reason Toft had agreed to see me the first time I came to him was because of my last name. The Lights had a long and respected lineage.
“Look, if you can’t help me, I need to go. I’ll have to figure out some other way to get answers.”
“Why can’t you use a spell?” Odi asked.
I had almost forgotten he was there.
“From the mouths of babes,” Toft said. “Yes. Why not use a spell?”
A fair question, but if it had been that easy, I wouldn’t have come to Toft in the first place. “Two reasons,” I said. “First, I’d need some materials I don’t have.”
Toft shrugged. “I’m sure I could acquire whatever items you need. I do, after all, have a mage on retainer. You remember Navroz Danesh, don’t you?”
I’d never heard his name, but I didn’t have to ask who he meant—he was talking about the mage who had branded me.
“Getting the stuff is the easy part,” I said. “But you’re not gonna like one of the ingredients.”
Toft raised an eyebrow.
“Holy water.”
His other eyebrow rose to join its twin. “That will be…awkward. But not insurmountable.”
“Like I said. That’s the easy part. But if I want to learn anything about these vamps, I’ll need some of their remains. No way I’ll be able to waltz over to my house and scoop up some vamp dust without getting held up by police with a whole lot of uncomfortable questions.”
“Odi desperately needs to practice his shadow walking. He can retrieve the remains you need.”
“Yeah,” Odi exclaimed. “I could totally help you.”
Based on his weak attempt at shadow walking I had witnessed earlier, I didn’t have much faith. I also didn’t have a lot of options. And since I was stuck with him, I might as well put him to good use.
Odi was beaming. He had his fists clenched with excitement, like a little kid waiting to open his birthday presents.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s go.”
“Sweet.”
On our way out, Mortimer passed us with a broom and dust pan, angling toward the broken candle holder on the floor.
“Sebastian,” Toft called before we reached the exit.
I turned.
“Don’t forget to bring Odi home before sunrise. He has a coffin here at the club.”
Aw, how cute. Toft had a bed for his pet. I assumed he fed the kid, too. I didn’t want to think about the who or how behind that.
“Don’t worry. I’ll have him back in time for curfew.” I took Odi by the elbow. “Let’s get out of here before he asks for a hug goodbye.”
Chapter Ten
Thankfully, Fiona had lent me her two-door Chevy Malibu since my car was still stuck at the house. Unfortunately, her car was white, which made it stick out even in the shadows. Our neighborhood was full of busybodies, not the least of whom was the neighbor my dad had nicknamed Mrs. Snoopis. It wouldn’t shock me if one of them reported an unfamiliar vehicle parked in the street, especially after all the excitement with the fire.
Nonetheless, I risked a drive by the house. Couldn’t help it. I needed to see the destruction, make it real, and use it to motivate me to find the bastards who had ruined my home.
The darkness obscured the worst of it, but I could make out enough details in the streetlight to create a full picture. Blackened beams stuck out from the mess like charred bones. Only rough chunks of the brick facade remained standing. The cement block porch was the only thing demarking where the front door had been. Beyond the ruined front, I could see the deeper shadows of the basement through the collapsed floor. No sign of any of the priceless artifacts beneath the debris, though.
I had the window cracked so I could smell the lingering smoke and ash. My stomach lurched as I inhaled.
It looked like the fire department had managed to contain the fire and keep it from spreading to the neighboring houses. As much as Mrs. Snoopis annoyed me, I didn’t want to see her home or anyone else’sdamaged.
Satisfied I had seen all I could, I crept back up to the twenty-five MPH speed limit and nearly drove by without noticing the police cruiser parked at the corner facing my house.
I keep my eyes forward while my heart kicked out a few extra beats. I held my breath until I had rounded the block.
Odi had stayed respectfully quiet the whole while. Once I parked under a willow tree and cut the engine, I turned to him, grabbed the box of plastic sandwich bags I’d picked up at a dollar store on the way, and tossed it into Odi’s lap.
“Get as much as you can. Doesn’t matter which one it comes from…” I checked myself, remembering the tough vamp that had needed a few extra hits to take down. Possibly older than the others. Possibly higher up in this group’s chain of command. “We killed a vamp on the other side of the block from our house.” Well, I hoped we had killed him. He had still been a burning lump last I saw of him, not yet crumbled to dust. “If his remains are there, he’s the one I want.”
Odi nodded. He fumbled with the box, tore it open, and pulled out a fist full of baggies. He stuffed them in the pocket of his black biker jacket that looked older than he was. “I got this.”
Wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. Me, or himself?
He opened the passenger door and started to climb out. I grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. He looked over his shoulder at me.
“Don’t get caught,” I said. “If mortal law enforcement gets hold of you, there’s nothing Toft or I can do for you. Not before sunrise.”
I could see the shadow of worry cross his face, but he quickly covered it with a crooked grin. “No worries. Like I said, I got this.”
I watched as he strode off into the night. He stuck close to the houses, away from the cast of the nearest streetlight and its ominous orange glow. But I could easily see him. And still saw him as he made it across several front yards before reaching the end of the block and turning the corner.
I really hoped he hadn’t started shadow walking yet.
With nothing to do but wait, I pulled out my phone and dialed Fiona.
It rang five times before going to voicemail.
I hung up without leaving a message. She’d see my number next time she looked at her phone. I dialed Mom, but caught myself before sending the call through. The fire had claimed her phone.
After fifteen minutes, my nerves started to get the best of me. Shouldn’t Odi have collected the remains by now? Had the cops caught him skulking around and decided to take him in?
I’d give him five more minutes, then I’d chance another drive by.
I tried Fiona again. Again the call went to voicemail.
That didn’t help my nerves any. Plenty of explanations for her not getting to her phone. Who could blame me for a little paranoia, though? I thought I had earned it.
I decided to try a text.
Call me ASAP.
I set my phone on the dash and leaned back. I checked the collection of CDs Fiona had in a compartment in the center console. All stuff from the early 2000s. Destiny’s Child. Matchbox Twenty. And, oh yuck, Nickleback. All the CD cases were caked with dust, so I could only hope she hadn’t popped the Nickleback in anytime recently.
Unless she ripped it and has it on her iPod now.
No way. Not the sweet, beautiful, and smart Fiona I knew.
Please, no.
I slapped the console compartment closed, grinning to myself. I would definitely have to give her shit when I saw her later.
The grin melted away when I heard shouting.
I glanced up.
O
di was booking it down the street toward me. He waved an arm through the air. “Start the car. Start the car.”
A second later I saw the police cruiser come around the corner behind him.
“Shit.” I cranked the ignition. The Malibu’s little engine puttered to life.
Odi ran at a fair clip by mortal standards. But as a vamp, he should have had a lot more speed. His enhanced physical abilities must have lagged like his shadow walking.
The cruiser flashed its lights and whooped the siren once.
They weren’t flooring it by any means, but they still gained on him.
If he didn’t pick up the pace, they would follow him right to the car. Then we were looking at a potential car chase. Not one this Malibu could hope to win. Especially once the cops in this cruiser called for backup. Even if we somehow managed to lose them, they’d get our plate number and show up at Fiona’s door before you could say “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo.” (Not a real conjuring word, by the way.)
Couldn’t risk it.
I put the car in reverse and slowly backed away from the corner until the cruiser was out of sight. I kept the headlights off as I made a lazy U-turn. Then I coasted to the next intersection as if I were just another neighborhood resident heading to the 7-Eleven to pick up some late night munchies.
I checked the rearview.
Odi hustled around the corner and came to a stop to watch me casually pull away and make a left at the intersection.
Don’t just stand there, you idiot. Run. Run like a fucking vampire!
I didn’t turn my headlights on until I reached the first major road, fighting the urge to floor the gas. As long as I stayed cool, I wouldn’t draw any suspicious attention. I felt a lot better once free of the side roads, and I could ramp it up to fifty.
I couldn’t, however, ease my grip on the wheel. My white knuckles stood out in the green glow of the dashboard’s display. My fingers cramped. I was so stiff, I felt like a plastic action figure in a toy car.
What a great mentor I had turned out to be. Abandoned my apprentice at the first sign of trouble. On the very first day.
It was the right call. Getting hung up with the cops wouldn’t have made you a hero, it would have made you stupid.
Funny how the only time you believed that little internal voice was when it said something negative. Right then, I didn’t buy a word of it.
But what was done was done. I had to trust that Odi would tap into his vampire abilities well enough to slip away. For the gods’ sake, the very least he could do was stay out of the middle of the street.
Then another worry squeezed my gut.
If he did get away, I hoped to hell he had the dust.
Chapter Eleven
I tried calling Fiona a couple more times without success. The tension from losing Odi grew into a toxic lump in my gut as I added the worry about Fiona and Mom. Maybe Fiona had taken Mom out?
At after eleven o’ clock at night?
When they knew vampires were after us?
Not likely.
By the time I reached Fiona’s door, I was gasping from my sprint through the parking lot. I could feel my face flushing. I was going to look like a crazed fool when I charged in and found Fiona and Mom perfectly unharmed. But then I noticed the gap between the jamb and the door itself. Only about an inch, but I could see the warmer light inside her apartment contrasting with the harsh glare of the domed light on the hallway ceiling.
The soft creak I heard behind me made me spin so fast I nearly swooned. My hand made a fist all on its own. Still, I held back my magic. I had effectively changed my habit from drawing on my power at the slightest provocation to keeping it in check until I absolutely knew I needed it. Neither extreme served me very well.
In this case, my restraint paid off. The neighbor across the hall had opened her door and was peeking out at me. I could only see one of her eyes, the opening in her door not much wider than Fiona’s. The hall light reflected off the single visible lens of her round glasses. The only reason I knew she was a woman was from the cakey red lipstick covering her lips. Judging from the lines around those lips, I pegged her as an older lady, though I’ve seen young woman with much worse wear from too many cigarettes and not enough personal hygiene.
I didn’t want to bother with the nosy woman, but she might have witnessed something—if there had even been anything to witness. I was jumping to a whole lot of conclusions without a whole lot of information.
“Did you see anything?”
What a brilliant question. You’ll make a fine detective someday, Sebastian.
The woman stared at me for a couple more seconds, then she slammed her door shut. I heard the snap of the deadbolt and jangle of the door chain.
Wasted time. Should have ignored her.
I whirled back to Fiona’s door. I tried to peer inside through the gap. I could see a fraction of the refrigerator in the kitchenette. Not much else. A moment like this made we wish I carried a gun. Sorcerers typically didn’t need them. Our projectiles were way more effective than bullets. But much like my axe, a conventional weapon like a handgun could have helped me keep my newly limited magic in reserve for the larger threats.
In this case, I had to work with what I had. So I focused my will, drew on my juice, and set my fist aflame.
Like a rogue cop in a bad action flick, I kicked the door open. Of course, I lost points on the badass scale since the door was not only unlocked, but already open. I put too much force into the kick, too. The door flung wide, bounced off its spring stopper, and swung right back at me.
I had already started in, so the door slammed against my shoulder. I hardly noticed. All my attention zeroed in on Fiona, laying sprawled on the living room floor, body limp, eyes closed, a bloody gash on her head.
My breath caught. The flames engulfing my hand flared up like a campfire in a gust of wind.
I fought my instinct to run to her and check if she was all right. Whoever had done this could still be in the apartment.
The heat of my own fire doesn’t burn me. It is magic after all. I could still feel its warmth, though. As my stress level rose, my fire’s heat increased. Sweat oozed in my clenched fist. The flame didn’t have much of a scent, since it wasn’t burning anything (not yet). Nonetheless, the air itself smelled like a hot furnace.
I regulated my breathing while scanning the living room. There weren’t many places to hide. The coffee table was glass. The bookshelves went straight to the corner. The only small section I couldn’t see from where I stood was behind the far end of the couch. All I needed to do to clear my view was a side-step onto the laminate tiles in the kitchenette. A couple yards was all it took.
No one behind the couch.
I crept out of the kitchenette and stepped around Fiona’s feet, glancing down on my way. Her chest rose and fell steadily. Breathing. Otherwise still.
“Fiona,” I called.
She didn’t stir.
I would have to find out for myself what might lurk down the hall.
The hallway was short. Just enough room for the single bedroom on the right, a linen closet on the left, and the bathroom at the end of the hall. The ceiling light was off. But the lamplight from the living room and my fire chased back most of the shadows.
The bathroom’s door at the end of the hall hung wide, revealing plenty of shadows within. Shadows deep enough for a vampire to draw the darkness around himself like a cloak. A good one, at least. Definitely not a baby like Odi.
I could make out my reflection in the mirror above the bathroom sink. The firelight cast across my face made the reflection waver like a mirage. My hair looked terrible, like I had bed-head, and not the stylish kind of bed-head.
I didn’t give a damn. Not only because my real concerns were more urgent, but because I was thankful to have any reflection at all. At the worst point during my infection, my reflection had started to fade. One of the weirdest experiences of my life. Imagine thinking you would never see yourself again. Yeah.
Weird. And scary.
These thoughts took less than a second to cross my mind, and went on mostly in my subconscious.
The bulk of my concerns circled around my next move.
I hadn’t seen any sign of Mom yet. I was pretty good at imagining worst case scenarios. The question was, should I check the bathroom first so I could then head into the bedroom without worrying about someone coming at me from behind? Or should I go for Mom first, in case the attacker was with her?
The bedroom door was closed. It gave me a shred of (probably false) hope. The intruder hadn’t bothered closing the entrance door. Why close the bedroom?
It meant nothing, but I needed to tally up every detail to make a decision.
Fuck that. Mom came first. If a bathroom lurker tried to take me from behind, I’d grab them in the crotch and set their bits on fire.
I rushed to the bedroom door. I wasn’t feeling the action hero vibe, so I opened the door with the knob like a normal person.
The room was dark.
I held out my hand like a dungeon crawler holding out his torch to illuminate the dark cavern ahead.
The darkness peeled back some, quivering at the edge of the flickering light’s reach. I could see plenty.
Plenty of nothing.
The covers on the bed were rumpled, but Mom wasn’t lying under them. All the remaining furniture looked intact. The couple of perfume bottles, the hairbrush, and the jewelry box on the dresser undisturbed. Nothing knocked onto the floor. Not so much as a lampshade askew. In other words, no sign of a struggle.
But no sign of Mom either.
I backed out into the hallway again. The growing heat from my flame made my face sweaty. The heat wasn’t just coming from the flame, I realized. My whole body radiated. My shirt stuck to my back. A bead of moisture tickled my ear.
My nervousness had my power working overtime. I was reaching the point where keeping my flame up would outweigh the cost of casting it from scratch. I had never felt this way before. Never paid attention to the calculus behind my magic. I had cast when I needed to cast, and sometimes even when I didn’t.