CHAPTER 13
Jonas stared at the empty sidewalk with his mouth open. He was standing roughly in the middle of the block, able to see down the street in both directions. There was no way the two men could run that fast. Maybe they turned invisible, he thought. It wasn’t that outlandish, considering what he’d seen in the past few weeks, and it would certainly help explain why humans didn’t seem to be aware of supernaturals except in stories. “Where—”
Someone whistled above him. He looked up, and Phillip waved from an upper balcony. The idea that someone that big could climb or jump that high, that quickly, and that silently, was pretty scary. He had a momentary flashback, seeing Kieran’s eyes gleaming in the dark forest. The things we kill each other over, his mother had said. No wonder she’d been worried that wolf’s bane wouldn’t grow in the new world.
He headed south, generally speaking, going east or west at random when the crossing signal was red. Every so often, he’d look up at the curtained windows and wonder what was happening inside. If he wondered hard enough, he found out.
“—can’t believe you would—”
Children, giggling and being chased by a heavier set of footfalls.
“—leaving? I can take you to the—”
The thoughts from the next room made him blush and withdraw hastily.
The city seemed empty on the weekend, at least compared to the human tide that swept over Manhattan during the week. There were still people on the sidewalks, but there was more than enough space to walk without having to weave through a crowd. It was halfway through the fall school term and starting to turn cool - not as many tourists, and most residents weren’t up and about yet.
He cut into the park at 79th street, took a seat on an empty bench, and watched people walk by. If he just relaxed and didn’t try particularly hard to reach into their heads, he could pick up hints of emotion emanating from them. It was like looking at a painting of brightly colored wildflowers and squinting so he couldn’t see the details.
A loud creak from the other end of the bench caught his attention, and Jonas turned to see Phillip sitting on the other end.
“You want to talk about it, kid?”
Jonas looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
“You do it on purpose?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
Phillip took off his bowler hat, set it on the bench beside him, and leaned back. “Well then, that’s good at least.”
Jonas wasn’t sure how to respond. There seemed to be a lot of… complicated history between vampires and werewolves. Anything he said could be a potential land mine. He wondered how long the two groups had been fighting.
A man and a woman in black spandex jogged by together, projecting pain and happiness, snapping Jonas back into the here and now.
“How do you deal with not being normal?” Jonas said.
“Me? I was born into it, same as you. Wouldn’t know much about being normal,” Phillip said.
Jonas mulled that over. Maybe that’s why he’d never had many friends. At least Amelia liked — used to like — that he was a little weird.
“Are you worried about your girl being afraid of you?”
Jonas turned and looked at Phillip, eyes wide. “Is she?”
“Sure. Some women like power, but no one likes power where they don’t expect it. The way you sicced Bert on whatever was after you and your girlfriend the other day, that isn’t normal for a hoodie-wearing nerd who listens to that electronic plinking stuff.”
Jonas bristled, about to fire back, when he realized Phillip was waiting for the reaction. Phillip, the 240-pound-or-more werewolf bodyguard that Jonas had been about to mouth off to. “I guess I’m not normal, then,” he said.
“Of course not. You’re Alice Black’s son.”
“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean,” Jonas said.
Phillip turned his head to watch a woman walking three dogs through the park. The dogs all looked back at him. One of them barked and the woman jerked its leash. “Do you know what the hardest part about being a werewolf is?” Jonas was about to answer, but Phillip waved his hand. “Rhetorical question, because you have no idea. The hardest part about being a werewolf is not being a werewolf.” He turned and smiled, only it was more like baring a mouthful of large, sharp teeth than smiling, and his eyes gleamed yellow. When he spoke again, it was a deep, growling sound instead of his normal voice, like a monster in a fairytale. “Being a werewolf is fun, Jonas. It’s the wind rushing through your fur, and chasing down prey under the moonlight with your family at your side. It’s the absolute certainty that you’re the biggest, baddest thing under the stars and everything that bleeds is your prey. You hunt, you eat, you breed, and you sleep. That’s it. And it’s paradise.” Jonas could feel an all-engulfing hunger oozing from Phillip, like the werewolf wanted to swallow the world, and Jonas realized he was on the verge of running away in terror.
With a shudder, Phillip drew back into himself — just a large, fit man with somewhat regal features. He picked up his bowler hat with exaggerated care, brushed a speck of pollen from it, and set it on his head. “Your mother changed all that. She came in the night with silver and fire. She laced our drinking water with wolf’s bane. She hunted us in our dreams and killed us until we willingly put our heads in the collar, fed off her table scraps, because there is something in her — and you — that looks at the world and says ‘Submit.’ And I respect that.”
Jonas suddenly had a very different view of Phillip: a wild creature whose collar was too tight, whose hat made him uncomfortable, and who would rather run barefoot than walk in the finest Italian leather shoes. “Why do you do it?”
“We’re pack animals, Jonas. We follow the strong, and it has been good for us in many ways. We don’t kill each other over territory anymore, and hunters don’t come for our mates and pups during the day. Once in a while, the forestry service lets the deer population get a little out of control, and they’ll shut down a national park for us. Different one each time, like a business retreat without clothes. And I get to see my old friends, because they’ve lived long enough to get old. We have elders now, Jonas. Do you know we can live to see eighty? We never did before, not until Alice Black.”
Phillip paused, listening intently, and sniffed the air a few times. Satisfied, he continued, “There are rumors your mother isn’t what she used to be,” he said, giving Jonas a searching look, his nostrils flaring.
Lie detection by smell, Jonas thought. He wondered how much of Phillip and Bert’s interactions were based on scent. No wonder we freak them out. He wanted to tell Phillip the rumors were true, that his mom wasn’t okay, but with everything riding on her abilities, he just couldn’t. All he could think about was Madoc’s voice, on the bus: Don’t trust the wolf.
Jonas remained silent, keeping his face blank.
Phillip chuckled. “Anyhow, if they’re just rumors, that’s fine. If they’re not, there are going to be a lot of my kind watching you to see if you’re ‘normal,’ or if you’re your mother’s son. I, for one, hope your blood runs Black. I’d like to see my grandchildren, someday.” He flashed a grin.
Yeah, no pressure, Jonas thought.
“And speaking of children,” said Phillip. “I heard you had a run-in with my boy, Kieran, the other day.”
Jonas blinked. “You’re his father?”
“Guilty,” Phillip said, smiling. “Bert over there, eavesdropping on conversations like a pup, is his older brother.” Jonas saw the bushes that Phillip was pointing at move. “Kieran is the runt of the litter, with three bigger brothers and a sister.”
Kieran? A runt? “He didn’t look like a runt… almost broke me in half.” Jonas’ hand went to his chest.
“And I’m sure he felt awful about it,” Phillip said.
Jonas nodded.
“Kieran’s a good kid, Jonas. Doesn’t have to be told why things have to be the way they are, not like his brothers — they take after their
mother. I’d be indebted to you if you’d be a friend to him. His brothers haven’t been gentle; it isn’t our way.”
Jonas got the impression that Phillip took his debts very seriously. “Sure, I like Kieran,” he said, nodding.
“You should, he’s a smart boy. Almost as smart as vampires think they are.” He laughed at his own joke. “A little too conflicted, though. Makes him hesitate. If he grows out of it… well, we’ll see, won’t we?”
♟
Amelia never called, and Jonas left before his mom came out of her room. He decided there was no use waiting around to see if she’d walk outside before sunset again; there was no way he’d be able to stop her, anyway.
He got to the Agency a full hour before training. Inching open one of the gates in his barrier, he said, “Hi, Doris. Is Eve around?”
She’s probably in her room, Jonas, Doris answered. Her eyes flashed horror movie green, then she added, Just grab my head and tuck it under your arm, and I’ll make the elevator work for you.
She lifted her head off her shoulders and held it out to him, apparently able to operate her body at a distance. Jonas wondered how he was supposed to take it.
Like a football helmet, Doris said, her eyes flashing green again.
Jonas reached to take the head, then stopped, his eyes wide. Sam was shouting and jumping up and down in his head, and Jonas suddenly remembered the warnings he’d been given about the receptionist. “I don’t think I should do that, Doris.”
The mental attack that followed was powerful, full of rage and frustration. Doris went straight for the weakest point in his defenses — the gate he’d opened for her. As soon as she was past the entrance, though, Sam dropped the portcullis, and sealed both outer and inner doors, trapping her inside. Jonas and Sam stood in the adjoining guardroom as Doris screamed and thrashed around, ramming herself into the solid stonework without so much as shaking the dust loose.
“That was close,” Jonas remarked. Several guardians were eyeing the crazed receptionist nervously, fingering their crossbows.
“Yes,” Sam replied, “I don’t know how this would have gone if she’d made it inside.” He was wearing a padded vest over chainmail, with a wide-brimmed steel helmet called a chapelle de fer that looked like a silver sun hat. His appearance had changed along with Jonas’ fortifications.
Gouts of green flame roared up, making the guardians step back from the arrow slits.
“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” Jonas said.
“From your little brick wall? Hard not to. But yes, sir, we’ve come a long way.”
Jonas watched for a few more minutes. Doris’ persona in the mental realm wasn’t funny looking; it was terrifying. He could barely see her – blackened bones wreathed in green flames – as she shrieked and attacked the gatehouse walls. But her attacks had little effect. It was as if something was pulling her up short, like a dog on a chain. The flames didn’t even leave scorch marks on the stone. He sighed, “I guess we’d better let her out.”
“If you say so, sir.” Sam snapped his fingers, and two guardians cranked the wheel that raised the counterweight and swung the outer doors open.
Jonas was back in the lobby, and Doris calmly put her head back on her shoulders.
Can’t blame a girl for trying, can you? she said.
“I guess not, Doris” Jonas answered. “I was already having a bit of a rough day, though.”
He paused, waiting for some kind of apology, but Doris just stared at him. All Jonas could feel or hear was an ambient buzzing, like he was standing near a transformer, or a swarm of bees.
Jonas cleared his throat. “Eve?”
I’ll call her, Doris said, reaching for the phone.
“Thanks, Doris.”
♟
A few minutes of tense silence later, Eve walked out of the elevator. She’d only come a few steps into the lobby when she stopped and said, “Doris! You stop that right now!”
The buzzing cut out like someone threw a switch.
Eve looked at Jonas. “She tried to get out, didn’t she? She’s always like this after a failed attempt.”
The buzzing started again, but this time Jonas felt Eve reach out and snuff it at the source, like someone pinching out a candle flame. Doris glared at them and her eyes began to glow green again, then she grunted and turned to face the wall.
Eve silently waved Jonas over, mouthing, “Come with me,” and they rode the elevator down. The doors opened on a square room with a coffee table in the center. The standard tray with fruit was there, but the table was solid wood and only had four legs. The front-right corner had been sheared off. “I haven’t been here before, have I?”
“No, this is where I live,” she said, leading him down the hallway to one of several generic, steel doors. Inside, however, it was anything but generic. The walls were covered in light blue plaster and silver-framed photos of Eve when she was younger, along with some shots of her family and friends. A white table sat in the corner, serving as a computer desk. On it was an older model iMac with a scratched, silver casing. There was also a four-post bed. But the one thing that really drew his attention, was the plushy raccoon on top of a small chest of drawers. The raccoon had a chunk missing from its ear that someone had roughly stitched closed.
“I got a little crazy with the scissors one day,” Eve said. “Mom made me sew him back up; she wouldn’t buy me a new one.”
“How did you get all this stuff down here?”
“The Agency. They made copies of my old room; they can do that you know… build exact duplicates of things.”
Jonas nodded and thought, Yeah, like they did in our apartment. But he didn’t mention it. Instead, he walked over and examined a family photo. “So, your parents don’t know?
“No,” Eve said, plopping down on the bed. “They got a jar of ashes and a made-up story.”
Jonas winced, thinking of his father’s funeral.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I got the originals. This is the room I grew up in.”
Jonas frowned. “If they make perfect copies of things, how do you know these are the originals?”
“I don’t,” she said. “But if it isn’t real, nothing else matters. It’s the cut on Rocky’s ear, the scribbles and carvings on my desk, and smelling the same detergent on my clothes and sheets that my mom always used… that’s how I know who I am. That’s my anchor, and what keeps me from going completely out of my mind.”
Jonas thought back to his own apartment, but he couldn’t think of anything he treasured. His mom hadn’t let him get attached to things; furniture was replaced as he got older, toys were boxed up and given away. In fact, considering how old his mother actually was, everything in the house was surprisingly brand new. If nothing else, he’d expected his parents’ room to be filled with bits and pieces of their past. Instead, it’d looked like something out of a catalog. All his mother seemed to have in the world, that she cared about, was Jonas and his dad… but half of that was gone.
Snapping out of it, Jonas realized he’d drifted off and that Eve was now giving him a look that said, Why are you here so early?
“Sorry,” Jonas said, didn’t mean to space out on you. “Mind if I sit down?”
“Go ahead.” She gestured to the office chair under her desk.
Wheeling it out, Jonas draped his jacket over the back and sat down. “Weather turned cold all of a sudden,” he said. “I would swear it was, like, 80-degrees just last week. Now, the sun can’t seem to warm things up.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Eve said, raising an eyebrow.
“Right. Sunlight. Whoosh,” he said, making the same hand gesture she’d used before. “I’m an idiot.” He gave her a sort of half smile and looked down. Every time he’d seen Eve, it had been around other people. And during those times, she’d either been showing him new things or trying to hit him. Now, they were alone in her room and she was wearing a form-fitting white t-shirt and pink-plaid pajama bottoms. “Umm, so what
’s the deal with Doris?” he said.
“Why are you here, Jonas? Why are you in my room an hour before practice?”
Jonas hesitated, thinking, She’s not a wolf or a hunter, and I really don’t think she’s a demon. Before he could talk himself out of it, he blurted out, “My mom stepped out in broad daylight and burned half her skin off, the werewolves think there’s a demon in the Agency — said it smelled like sulfur — but I’m not sure I trust them, and there might be a hunter after me.” He took a deep breath. “And you’re the only person I can talk to.”
Eve opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, hugging a pillow tightly to her chest. Then she said, “Did you know Doris is like, a zombie queen or something? I heard someone call her a lich, once. They said if she got out, the dead would start walking. That’s why the lobby’s warded… so she can’t leave unless someone lets her out. It’s like the old vampire story about being invited into someone’s house, only reversed.”
“Warded?”
“It’s a kind of spell, etched into metal,” she said, still clutching her pillow.
Jonas looked at her. I must have completely freaked her out, he thought. If this is how she’s reacting, I’m sure glad I didn’t tell Amelia. “Look, about the—”
Eve shut her eyes and held up a hand to stop him. “I am still processing the enormity of what you just dropped on me, Jonas — TMI, by the way — so just…” She paused, took a deep breath, and loosened her death grip on the pillow, setting it aside. Then she placed her hands on her knees, and said, “Your mother, Alice Black, tried to commit suicide?”
“No. I mean, she went back inside. She… I feel crazy saying this, but… she told me she just wanted to make sure the sun was real.”
Eve blinked. “You mean like solipsism? Alice Black went solipsist in full daylight?”
“Yes, if that’s the term for it, my mom went solipsist.”
“I’m sorry, Jonas, I know she’s your mom, so the significance of this may not be sinking in, but she’s Alice Black. She’s been alive for five-hundred-and-thirty-something years without going catatonic, or on a murderous rampage — except when necessary — or… or…”
“Or?”
“Jonas, she’s been our hope. No one, except things much, much higher on the food chain than us, lives that long without going crazy. And if she’s losing it, that means I’m going to lose it at some point, and—”
“Eve, you’re only sixteen. I think you have a—”
“I’m seventeen!” she said. “What’s her anchor? Can’t you go to her room and—”
“I don’t know,” Jonas said, shaking his head. “Everything in the house looks like it came out of a high-end catalog. The only thing that makes sense is… it was my dad.”
“Your dad? How could she — but he’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Well, to tell the truth, I’m not sure. A specter called Madoc has been sending me dreams, or visions. I attacked him the last time, and he hasn’t come back since…” He went on to tell her everything that had happened: the break-in, Fangston’s rampage through his mind, his conversations with Phillip, and the box his father had left behind. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m just trying to imagine what it’s like to live in your world,” Eve said. “A specter? Really? Like, Agency special ops, omens of doom, going out of his way to talk to you not once, but twice?”
“Yes.”
“And then being attacked in your home… no wonder I don’t go out anymore. It’s not safe anywhere.”
Jonas frowned. “You don’t go out? Ever? Not even with Viviane?”
Eve sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Viviane doesn’t go out because she’s Viviane. She thinks that if she limits the number of people she comes in contact with, it’ll take longer for her to go crazy.”
“So, I should stay indoors, too?”
Eve shook her head. “No, she’s a special kind of vampire. Not everyone gets to train with her, you know. You do because you’re a bit of a freak—”
“Thanks a lot,” Jonas said, sarcastically.
“—and I do because I’m like her, though I don’t know if I agree with all of her theories. Not that it matters. There’s nothing out there for me anyway.” She glanced at the clock. ”You need to go so I can change, or else I’ll have to fight you in my PJs, and that’ll be embarrassing for both of us.”
Jonas looked at the time and realized they’d been talking for almost an hour. “Yeah, you’re right. Well, thanks for listening. It means a lot.”
She gave him one of her appraising looks, then said, “Thanks for trusting me.”
I guess I did, Jonas thought. He’d told her everything… almost. Sam wouldn’t let him divulge the details of his barrier, and he hadn’t told her about his dad’s coin. Still, all she had to do to make his life more difficult was walk into Fangston’s office and spill the beans. But somehow, Jonas knew she would never do that. How do I repay her?
“Uh, you can go now, Jonas,” Eve said.
Feeling his face flush, Jonas said, “Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking… you wanna go out for coffee after training’s over? I mean, I know you don’t drink coffee — at least I don’t think you do. Do you? Anyway, it doesn’t matter. We could just sit at a table, pretend to drink coffee, and watch the human cattle bustling about?”
It was a bad joke, but she laughed anyway, immediately covering her mouth. “Let’s see how training goes, but yeah, that sounds like fun.”
♟
The training session was rough, mostly on Jonas. Viviane liked to finish the weekend with a bang, since she knew he’d be focusing on schoolwork and practicing the vampire stuff on his own during the week. His jaw was swollen and his leg throbbed from a nasty kick Eve had landed after distracting him with a mental-thrust at his barrier. Then, Viviane had them sit with their backs against the wall and relax before pulling them into her mind.
They were in an arena, surrounded by armored men with long, silver daggers.
Viviane’s voice came from everywhere at once. “I don’t expect you to win, just survive as long as you can.”
Without further delay or ceremony, the men charged. Eve and Jonas did the best they could, fighting separately at first, but were eventually forced back to back. The men hit, cut, stabbed, and slashed. Every wound hurt like the real thing. When one of the men landed a killing blow, the arena would reset. Then Jonas and Eve would be surrounded by a fresh wave of assailants.
After the fourth wave, with two of their assailants disabled, Jonas and Eve were still holding their weapons. Without warning, Viviane pushed them out and they were back in the training room, breathing hard. Jonas patted himself down, but didn’t find any injuries other than those Eve had inflicted earlier. His head, however, felt like it was about to explode.
“That wasn’t bad for your first time,” Viviane said, “But we’ll need to work on it more next week.” Then she walked out.
Jonas glanced at Eve. “What was that? It was like fighting Francois, only ten times worse.”
Eve nodded. “I didn’t know Viviane could do that.” She rubbed her temples and winced, obviously nursing her own headache. “Listen, we don’t have to go out tonight. I nailed you with a few good ones, and I wasn’t expecting—”
“No, I offered, and I’d still like to go,” he said, with a forced smile. “Just need a few minutes to piece my head back together.”
Eve went back to her room for a half-hour while Jonas stopped by the cafeteria. When she came back, they were both feeling much better, and headed toward a small coffee shop a few blocks from the Agency. Jonas was limping a little, so Eve slipped her arm in his. That’s what it looked like, anyway. She was actually taking some of the weight off his bad leg.
“Thanks,” he said.
Eve didn’t answer, she just gave his arm a squeeze.
“Bye, Jared!” she said, as they crossed the lobby.
“See you later, Eve. Have a good week, Jona
s,” the security chief said.
Once they were outside, a cold breeze tousled her hair. “You’re right, it is getting colder,” she said, tucking a loose strand behind her ear.
Jonas was struck by the grace of the small gesture, until he remembered she had a glamour on her, just like Viviane and his mother. She wore a black pea coat with a red scarf, and Jonas thought her skin tone was a little more… lifelike. Did she put makeup on? he thought, but immediately dismissed the question. Of course she put makeup on. My mother doesn’t come out of her room without makeup on.
“Hi Phillip,” Jonas said, as the bodyguards approached. “Didn’t see Kieran today, is everything alright?” He’d looked for the young werewolf to apologize for his reaction in the cafeteria, but hadn’t been able to find him.
“Full moon this Sunday. Lettie keeps the young ones indoors, and Kieran is supposed to stay in his room here at the Agency. Stops them from having accidents,” Phillip said.
Jonas flashed back to the funeral, remembering a woman who’d come up and apologized as her son was being escorted out of the church. Her name had been Leticia.
“He’s not house trained, yet,” Bert added, sniggering.
Phillip frowned, “Be careful how you talk about family, Bert. You were twenty before I let you out of the house, and sometimes I still regret it.” His tone was playful, but there was an edge to it.
Phillip and Bert trailed behind, occasionally muttering comments to each other and laughing. After about half a block, Jonas felt a small, polite tendril of thought nudge his barrier. It was Eve, and he opened one of the gates for her.
Thanks. I didn’t particularly want them overhearing everything we were saying.
Yeah, this is probably better.
Bert muttered something, and Phillip growled at him.
Jonas paused, and said, “You can tell we’re talking, can’t you?”
Bert started to answer, but Phillip gripped him by the shoulder and said, “That’s enough out of you, tonight.” He turned back to Jonas. “Most young vampires subvocalize when they do the psychic bit with one another. It’s not like we can see the thoughts, but we can hear your vocal chords shifting around.”
Jonas’ left hand went to his throat. He hadn’t thought of it, but he knew one of the tricks to speed-reading was not mouthing the words while reading them.
“How would an older vampire do it?”
Phillip’s eyes flicked to Eve, and he pressed his lips together. He seemed to come to a decision, and said, “None of my business, but I suppose it would be possible to send images instead. Maybe entire memories, if one had the skill and trusted the other… person.”
Jonas felt they’d strayed into dangerous territory, though he didn’t know how or why. “Thank you.”
Phillip nodded, and they all started walking again.
Jonas looked at Eve. Know what that was about?
Well, for one, you just got Phillip Macready, head of the biggest Agency pack in New York, to put his neck on the chopping block for you. I’m kind of flattered he let me see it.
Chopping block? Why? Jonas asked.
Werewolves are supposed to be strong, vampires are supposed to be smart. A smart werewolf makes people nervous, especially when they’re as careful and well connected as Phillip. I can’t believe he’s your bodyguard.
What do you mean by well connected?
His wife, Leticia, is supposedly related to a Winter Wolf. That’s what I heard, anyway. Of course, no one I know has ever actually seen one. They’re like the boogeyman or Krampus, punishing werewolves who break the old laws.
Jonas glanced back at the two werewolves. Phillip smiled, and Bert followed sullenly a few steps behind. When his mother had demanded Phillip be assigned to her after the break-in, Jonas hadn’t realized how big the request had been, not until now.
Those two have been arguing a lot more lately, he told Eve.
It’s probably the full moon. Even trained adults get a little cranky during this time.
Bert looked up and glared at Jonas, who quickly turned back to watch where he was going. The look of undisguised hatred in Bert’s yellow eyes was beyond “cranky.”
No, I don’t think that’s it, Jonas said, and wondered why everything had to be so complicated.
They continued their conversation from where they’d left off in Eve’s room. Jonas thought his best move was to wait until Madoc made contact again, and then try talking to him.
I don’t know if you have that much time, said Eve. Once someone crosses the threshold into full solipsism, they go from “existential crisis” to “bathing in the blood of virgins” pretty quickly. Or, if they’re paranoid, they lock themselves in their minds, which would be a problem with your mom because I don’t think anyone could dig her out.
Bathing in the blood of virgins? Is that really a thing? Jonas asked.
Countess Elisabeth Bathory — she was like, the female version of Dracula. It’s kind of an inside joke among female vampires. She never bathed in the blood of virgins like they said, but she did go nuts and kill a few hundred people. Most of them were young girls. It never went to trial — would have been awkward for everyone involved if people saw a sixty-year-old who looked twenty, or if she’d turned to ash in public. They walled her in her rooms and she killed herself four years later.
Jonas looked at her. Inside joke, huh? Yeah, I can see how that would be hilarious. He tried to project the feeling of sarcasm. Eve smiled and squeezed his arm.
Anyway, she said, you probably need to find a way to anchor her sooner rather than later. I mean, it’s mostly a joke, but your mom had been turned and was already over a century old by the time the Countess was born. They may have even known each other. She paused, then sent… Do you think you can get whatever’s in the box your dad left?
I don’t know for sure, Jonas answered. But there’s something I want to try. One thing was certain, he needed to uncover whatever it was without Fangston finding out and taking it from him, which he was sure to do, unless Jonas explained his mother’s condition. Even then, Fangston might put his mom in the vampire equivalent of an insane asylum. Apparently, bricking someone up in their rooms was a popular thing to do.
Jonas opened the door to the coffee shop and let Eve walk in ahead of him. Phillip and Bert had made themselves scarce, so Jonas walked in behind her. As they approached the counter, he almost ran into Amelia, who was carrying a cardboard tray that held four steaming beverages.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see… Jonas?” She looked from him to Eve, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Who’s your friend?”
Who’s this, Jonas?
“Amelia, this is Eve. Eve, this is Amelia.” Jonas said, and then privately to Eve, She’s my girlfriend.
Amelia shifted the tray and extended her hand to Eve. “Hi, Eve. Jonas has told me absolutely nothing about you. How long have you two known each other?”
How long have you been dating? Eve pushed at Jonas, as she shook Amelia’s hand, and said, “Ten days,” without missing a beat.
We’ve been dating for two years, Jonas answered, struggling to keep up with both conversations at once. Have you been counting the days, or is that just a vampire thing?
We all trend toward obsession, Eve answered, and Jonas immediately thought of Sam’s “appearance” as soon as he’d started training.
“That’s odd. Jonas, didn’t your apartment get broken into about ten days ago?” Amelia asked.
“Eleven days,” Eve said.
Not helping! Jonas pushed, a little more forcefully than he’d intended.
I’m not the one who doesn’t trust you, Eve fired back.
He reached out toward Amelia’s mind, probing gently.
—leaving me for this floozy. My friends were right, and she’s prettier than me, and—
Amelia’s interior monologue was rapidly rising to a screech. Eve smirked. Amelia noticed, blanched, and walked past Jonas, as if he wasn’t there, eyes fixed on the tray of dri
nks.
“Amelia, I’ll—”
“Don’t bother,” she said without turning.
Jonas looked at Eve, wide-eyed. What just happened? He thought, but didn’t broadcast it.
Eve read his facial expression well enough and bit her lip. Jonas picked up amusement and a hint of shame leaking from her barrier. She touched him on the arm and said, “I think I should probably go. You have fun with that.” And let me know how the thing with the box goes, she sent as she walked out.
How does this happen to me? Jonas thought. Two weeks ago, all he’d been worried about were his grades and how much time he got to spend with Amelia. I shouldn’t have to deal with this, he thought. It wasn’t whining. He didn’t feel sorry for himself. He was angry. He hadn’t done anything wrong and was being saddled with problems that had nothing to do with him.
“Excuse me, are you in line?” someone said.
“No, I… I guess not.”
He walked out and headed for home. After about a half-block, Phillip fell in beside him. “You alright, lad? Saw your girlfriend leave, and your other girlfriend soon after,” he said, wagging his eyebrows.
Jonas was about to protest, but realized Phillip was just pulling his chain. “Where’s Bert?”
Phillip frowned. “Sent him home. Needs to think some things over, won’t do anybody any good until he does.”
“Is he—?”
“Family business, Jonas. I didn’t stick my nose in the blood on your door, so do me the same courtesy. Let me handle my son.” Phillip’s tone was calm, but unyielding. Not for the first time, he got the impression that Phillip — or maybe werewolves in general — would do anything for their pack, or family. Whatever they call it, he thought.
They walked the rest of the way to the apartment without speaking another word.
♟
Jonas saw Amelia at school on Monday, but the buzz of thoughts he picked up from her told him it was not the right time to approach her. He went to see Mr. Edwards after fourth period instead of going to lunch. He wasn’t eating much anymore, anyway, and he didn’t want to run the gauntlet of Amelia’s friends.
“Jonas! How unexpected. I assumed when I didn’t hear any more from you last week that your interest had waned. How goes the castle building?”
They talked for a half-hour; Mr. Edwards spent most of that time discussing changes in fortifications as a result of the increased use of gunpowder, both in terms of canons and explosives. Jonas wasn’t sure he wanted to introduce gunpowder to his “world.” In fact, he made a mental note for Sam to strictly prohibit it. Even basic artillery would make the walls in his barrier obsolete. Better to keep things old fashioned and to the defender’s advantage, he thought. The only thing he needed less than mental cannons were tanks and smart bombs.
“I think the world might have been a better place if we hadn’t rushed to gunpowder warfare,” Jonas said, when Mr. Edwards looked like he would try to persuade him again.
“Well, that’s a good theory, Jonas. But, as a ruler during that time, you’d have to put a lot of faith in the benevolence of neighboring countries to make that choice.”
Putting faith in others reminded Jonas of something Viviane had suggested. He needed to scan Mr. Edwards. Reaching out with his mind, he felt something like a very thin barrier, almost like a soap bubble. It was unlike anything he’d felt in a human before. It popped when he touched it.
The next thing Jonas knew, Mr. Edwards was stabbing at his chest with a half-foot-long silver dagger. Acting on instinct, he deflected the history teacher’s wrist a split second before the dagger would have slipped between his ribs and into his heart. He ripped the knife from the older man’s hand, flipped it over, and held it between them. He could hear the other man’s heart pounding and resisted the urge to lunge forward. Edwards jumped back and flipped one of the light switches on the wall. A tube light, that Jonas had thought was broken, flickered on with an angry hum. His skin tingled.
“Damn,” Edwards said.
Jonas’ eyes widened. “That’s a UV light, isn’t it?”
Edwards’ eyes were fixed on the tip of the dagger. Jonas could tell he was shifting his balance to make a grab for it. “Don’t,” Jonas said. “I’m faster than you could ever be.” He wasn’t sure of that, but it sounded good, like something out of a movie.
Edwards licked his lips, as if weighing his odds, then slowly raised his hands. “Can’t blame me for trying, can you?”
“You’re the second person to say that within the last twenty-four hours,” Jonas said. “I can’t say that I care for it much.” He glanced down at the dagger. It was made entirely of silver with a wolf’s head pommel, just like the one in Kieran’s nightmare. “You’re a hunter?”
Edwards nodded. “You tried one of your mind tricks on me. I was within my rights to attack.”
Jonas was surprised at his tone. He sounded like a guy arguing over the fault of a fender-bender, instead of someone who’d just tried to kill him.
“I was just checking to see if you were really who you said you were. You weren’t.”
“I teach history, and my name is Dave Edwards. I never lied. Why didn’t you turn to ash?”
“That’s none of your business,” Jonas said. “Besides, you’ve seen me at school and know who my mother is.” He was guessing about the last part, but knew the school had a file with his emergency contact information in it. “You should’ve already known I was a vampire, and that I was sun proof.”
“We thought you might be human,” Edwards said. He didn’t deny knowing who Jonas was.
“Who’s we?”
“That’s none of your business,” Edwards said, chin raised defiantly.
They stared at each other.
“Have you told anyone about our conversations?” Jonas asked, lowering the knife.
“Only that we’ve had them,” Edwards said, as a bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. Jonas scanned his mind. He was telling the truth.
“I’m not your enemy,” Jonas said. “I appreciate all the help you’ve given me. As long as you don’t give anyone details about our conversations, we can just be student and teacher.”
“Or what?” Edwards said, tensing, his eyes darting to his desk.
Jonas tried to think of what his mother — of what Alice Black would say. “I’ll drain you and dump your body. But before I kill you, I’ll pull the names of everyone you told — and everyone you love — from your mind, and hunt them down until they’re no longer a threat to me. Even daylight won’t protect them.”
Edwards studied him.
Jonas did his best to look completely emotionless, like a man contemplating a distasteful but otherwise simple task, instead of a scared and angry kid.
“You have my word.” Edwards said, finally. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Another quick scan revealed that, once again, the teacher was telling the truth. He believed me, Jonas thought in wonder. He was mildly troubled by the fact that, as the words had left his mouth, he’d believed them too.
Jonas placed the dagger on Edwards’ desk and walked out, recalling that Madoc, the specter who attacked him on more than one occasion, had warned him about a hunter. He was beginning to suspect that maybe they hadn’t been attacks at all, just Madoc’s attempts at reaching out to someone who didn’t understand and was unintentionally blocking him. I need to talk to him, he thought, especially now that a demon in the Agency might be a reality, and that one or more werewolves could be after him as well.
♟
Phillip’s bearing changed subtly as Jonas exited the school. It was as if he was shifting his weight slightly forward, getting ready to pounce. “What happened?”
“What do you mean, ‘What happened’?”
“You’ve been in a fight. Someone pulled a little too hard on your sleeve, and I can smell them on you… an adult male. Who was it, one of the teachers?”
“I handled it. I don’t need anyone else getting involved.”
<
br /> Phillip crossed his arms. “I’m in charge of your safety, kid. If there’s a threat, I need to—”
“Where’s Bert?”
Phillip went silent faster than Jonas would have expected over a simple fight between father and son.
“Phillip, what happened?”
“It’s family—”
“It was a hunter, okay? My history teacher is a hunter. He’s not going to hurt me or tell anyone anything he shouldn’t, but he was watching me, and there are probably more of them somewhere in the city that he’s working with.”
Phillip went very still for a moment, then started walking toward the school.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to have a talk with the hunter,” Phillip said without stopping.
“No, you don’t.” Jonas said, getting angry, and he added a mental shove to it.
The werewolf stopped dead in his tracks, turned, and stared at Jonas. His eyes had turned yellow. “I warned you already, boy. If you do that again, I won’t be responsible for—”
Phillip should have been terrifying. He was two or three times Jonas’ size, and something was driving the normally calm bodyguard to the brink of violence. But between his father’s death, his mother going crazy, Edwards, Madoc, Amelia, Doris, and Fangston ransacking his memories, something in Jonas snapped. He stood up a little straighter, snapped his fingers, and dragged Phillip into his mind.
As Phillip’s rage hit him like heat from an oven, Jonas thought, Oh crap, what have I done?