Fangs

by Anna Katmore

  PLOP.

  “Fuuuuck…” Lying on the ground, I feel as if every bone in my body is shattered.

  After a few deep breaths, I open my eyes and scramble to my feet. My equilibrium takes a moment to adjust, but when the dizzy spell recedes, I rake a hand through my hair and grin. I really did it. And look at that, I’m dressed!

  Shapeshifters usually change with their clothes, so the naked experience last time with Abby irritated me a little. The whole bat thing requires more practice, but I’m glad I managed this particular part at least.

  With a relieved breath, I slip through the door into the great entrance hall.

  Frankly, I’d like nothing better than to slump on the wingback chair by the fireplace and recover from my recent shock. However, there’s a berserk werewolf in the woods who just introduced himself to me—and therewith signed his death sentence. Vampires and wolves try their best to keep out of each other’s way. We only come to action if one of the other species steps out of line. Bloodthirst is one such offense. Attacking somebody is another.

  I head down into the dungeon and search for the right weapon from the racks. A dagger with a black hilt and silver blade looks perfect, though any metal will do. The silver is extra torturous for werewolves, but they aren’t immortal like vampires. I could kill it simply by breaking its neck—as long as I’m prepared for the attack and don’t get startled into changing into a bat again.

  Dawn is breaking, so the wolf hunt will have to wait a while. It doesn’t matter. Tonight, the beast will fall. But first, I have to prepare a few things for Abby when she comes by later this afternoon.

  Even though wolves—however apeshit they are—usually keep to the shadows, it reassures me that Abigail has her wonder whistle, and that horn is certainly still in her security backpack. Along with the stake. I’ll make sure to take her back home early tonight, anyway, so I can deal with the wolf issue and solve it once and for all.

  Chapter 25

  You think too loudly

  Abigail

  Rosemarie and I have been texting back and forth the entire morning. I started to feel really bad about how little time we’ve actually had together the past few days. It’s not like we spend every waking hour with each other when I’m here, but Quentin is definitely a distraction that cuts into my time with Rosemarie.

  And Trayan is another reason why we haven’t seen each other much.

  I hate to go over to their house, knowing that he’s there. The guy gives me worse chills than the vampire—and that is saying a lot. Quentin might be right, perhaps the Scot really isn’t a wolf. If it’s so hard for a berserk werewolf to change back into human form, then he certainly can’t be it. But the guy is creepy, always looking at me as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. I don’t envy Rosemarie this summer.

  My cell buzzes with another text: Waiting! I grab my backpack that contains a towel and lunch, then slip into my flipflops and run downstairs. We said we’d go for a swim, and thankfully, I didn’t even have to ask her to come alone. Her first reply when I suggested a picnic by the lake was a huge, hearty-eyes smiley with the words: Yessss! Time without T-Rex. I’m in!

  I’m still smiling about her nickname for Trayan. Figures.

  Nana always lends me her bike when I’m here. I hurry to the shed to grab it and then push it across the garden to meet Rosemarie at the front gate. With one foot on the ground, she waits on her pretty blue mountain bike. Her two pigtails look cute today and fit perfectly with the black bib shorts she wears over her purple bikini—no shirt.

  “Hey,” I say, getting onto Nana’s ancient tank bike, and together, we pedal off. “How did you escape the watchful eyes of your summer guest?”

  “I said, ‘I’m going, you stay.’”

  I almost swallow a suicidal butterfly as I laugh. “And he just took that?”

  “Well, I found out it’s all about hitting the right tone with him. I’m good at staring battles, you know.” The way the corners of her mouth twitch up slightly makes me imagine some funny situations where she figured out how to handle the Scot. “And I can bang doors louder than he can,” she adds and laughs.

  Maybe he really isn’t as dangerous as I thought. Could be a total misunderstanding, right?

  Jesus Christ, I hope so.

  We reach the lake behind the town, pick a cozy spot close to the shore, and lean our bikes against some trees nearby. Moments later, we’ve spread our towels on the grass. I’ve always loved this lake. Since it isn’t very deep, it’s not too cold either, and the sun makes the surface sparkle like a thousand aquamarines. Rosemarie and I hurry to strip out of our clothes and, in our bikinis, run into the cool water.

  A few kids toss a beach ball back and forth nearby. When it bounces over to us, I pitch it back, remembering how many times Rosemarie and I played with something like that when we were little. All of a sudden, that seems like a lifetime ago. No worries about vampires or werewolves back then.

  I stand in the water that reaches my waist and watch the kids squeal as they play. A queasy feeling roots itself in my stomach. They have no idea what kind of creatures actually live side by side with us humans. My gaze wanders to Rosemarie. Neither does she…

  “You all right?” my friend asks and splashes water at me. The cold drops make me shudder as they hit the dry and heated skin of my upper body. “You look as if the Loch Ness monster just nudged your toe.”

  I splash handfuls of water back at her, which makes no difference because she’s in the water up to her neck. “I’m fine.” But the cue she gave me is a good chance to subtly test the proverbial waters of that topic. I dip myself in the lake up to my shoulders, linger there for a few seconds, and then head back to our towels, rubbing myself dry. Rosemarie comes and sits next to me. She lets the sun do all the drying.

  “Do you think there really are live sea monsters somewhere?” I begin, hoping it’s the right start to a conversation about the fanged and furry.

  “Like Nessie?” Rosemarie shrugs and then sprawls on her front, half of her face buried in her folded arms. Her gaze is on me, but her words come out muffled. “You should ask Trayan. He would know about those creatures, right?”

  Her reply stuns me. My chin drops a little. Does she have the same suspicions as I do? Living in the same house with him 24/7, it could happen. “Why? Because he’s a—?” Jeez, how to finish this sentence?

  “A what?” Rosemarie’s brows dip into a V.

  “W…why did you say he would know?”

  “Well, he lives near some such loch over in Scotland, doesn’t he? If they have Nessie, he should have seen it.”

  Oh my God! I want to slam my forehead against the oak tree behind us. Total fail. I swallow. “Right.”

  “So, what were you going to say?” She tilts her head a little more to my side, her face still creased in skeptical crinkles. “Trayan is what?”

  “I…don’t know,” I stammer, seeing no way out of this. “He just seems…a little strange to me. Don’t you think?”

  Rosemarie grimaces but obviously not because I said something wrong. “He is. Totally. Always. I’ve never met a more annoying guy.”

  All right, that wasn’t exactly what I meant, but at least we’re halfway on the same page here. “Did he tell you that he had breakfast with me and Nana yesterday morning?”

  “Yes. He said your grandma invited him after—” She breaks off and suddenly bites her lip. Rarely does Rosemarie search for words, but right now is most definitely one such moment. I know that whatever comes next likely won’t be good. “Can I ask you something?” she murmurs, sounding genuinely uncomfortable.

  Uh-oh.

  “The other day, you said the movie guy flew back home. But he didn’t really, did he?”

  I suck my lips between my teeth. I hate lying to Rosemarie. To anyone, actually, but especially to my friends. After a long moment, I shake my head. “No. He’s still here.”

  She nods. “You’ve been at the castle quite often the past co
uple of days. I saw you coming and going.”

  Even though she sounds in no way offended, the squeezing feeling in my chest grows, guilt for keeping her out of my life. “Sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. It’s just that Quentin…he seems to have some serious health issues and prefers living alone. Half of the time, I didn’t know if he even wanted me to visit him or not.” At least that is the truth. “Are you mad that I didn’t introduce you two?”

  “Nah, it’s okay.” Her voice is soft, honest. Then she lowers her gaze and plucks at the dandelions in front of her nose, arranging them in a circle. “Sometimes people need to keep their secrets,” she mumbles, and all I can do is stare at her, dumbfounded.

  Did she just tell me that she’s been holding back her own mystery? About Trayan perhaps? Jesus, I want to scream: Tell me all about your werewolf, and I’ll tell you what I know about vampires!

  “Abby? How much do you really know about the guy from the castle?”

  Or she knows all about vampires already. My jaw hits my chest.

  When she turns her head back to me, I quickly snap my mouth shut and try not to gape at her with saucer-wide eyes. “Why?” I croak.

  “Trayan saw how Quentin carried you from the castle to your house yesterday. He’s worried about you. Actually, I am, too.” Rosemarie sits up and faces me. Whoa, what kind of talk is this going to be? I wanted to ask her about a werewolf, not be questioned about my new life with a vampire. “If this guy is so ill, aren’t you afraid that he could…um…infect you or something?”

  “No.” The word is out so fast, I don’t know what to say afterward.

  “Then why did he have to carry you? What if you… like, er, caught what he has and were too weak to walk?”

  Is she really asking me if I caught the vampire bug? She must know more than I thought. Trayan probably filled her in. Of course, he would, they live together. He may not be the berserk werewolf since he’s been human every time we met, but there’s one other possibility. He figured out Quentin’s secret. And Trayan is…a vampire hunter.

  My heart pounds against the base of my throat as Rosemarie and I stare into each other’s eyes for what feels like a solid minute before I find my voice again. “I stayed much too late and fell asleep. He only wanted to take me home before Nana found me missing in the morning.” Damn, I need to turn this conversation in another direction or I’m screwed. Clearing my throat, I lower my head and hook my hair behind my ears. “Anyway, did Trayan say why he was out so early?”

  Considering my words, she bites her bottom lip and then nods. “Okay…”

  Okay? Okay, what?! Holy fang of a vampire, I know what this means! She knows that I know, and I know that she knows, and neither of us is going to give the other a concrete answer because we both don’t want the other to get into trouble for knowing about night creatures. I want to whimper.

  There’s a long silence between us, even when the kids’ red blow-up ball zooms past our faces. When the moment stretches into almost painful silence, I take a deep breath and grab my backpack. Rummaging inside, I get out the snack that I prepared before leaving the house.

  Rosemarie fishes a bottle of raspberry sherbet from her bag. She takes a sip, then wipes the bottle’s mouth and holds it out to me. Her peace offering comes with soft but caring words. “Would you tell me if something’s wrong?”

  I trade one half of my sandwich for the bottle and briefly press my lips together as I search her face. “Would you?”

  She gives me an apologetic smile that is easy to read. I smile back. And then we eat as if the awkward conversation never happened.

  *

  It’s around six when I get out of the shower and step in front of the closet. The deep red, strappy dress is hanging there, the one that Quentin asked me to wear today.

  Dear me, what a crazy, crazy summer.

  The conversation with Rosemarie this afternoon left my mind reeling. I’m more than certain now that Trayan knows Quentin’s secret. And he dragged my friend into it. Quentin said he could wipe their memory or something if they found out the truth. Maybe he should do that sooner rather than later because with Trayan’s obvious concern, he might do something stupid—like go after Quentin with a stake. It’s probably best to bring Rosemarie and Trayan up to the castle and introduce them to Quentin. That way, the vampire can sneak into their minds and reveal exactly what they know. Right? And then he can work his magic, and everything will be good. Happy ending for everyone.

  Although I’m not so sure about the happy in my personal ending. Besides all the vampire, werewolf, and now maybe even hunter stuff, I’m facing a whole different kind of problem.

  My heart races in my chest at my dilemma. It probably started sometime during the past few days, but I wasn’t really aware of it until last night. Just thinking of Quentin getting personal with other women and sinking his teeth into their throats triggered a really intense reaction inside me. And it hurt. The weird afternoon where he licked the cut on my cheek—sort of kissed it better—and then the intimate moments when we practiced mind control together probably helped build up to these feelings.

  But the one instant that gave me absolute clarity was the ten seconds on my bed when he almost kissed me. I wanted him to do it so badly.

  Of course, he didn’t, and it’s probably for the best. Falling in love with a vampire is so not a good idea.

  Quentin must have sensed that a kiss would mean a lot more to me now than the first careless one did after I so stupidly reanimated the knocked-out vampire. Though he looked like he really wanted that kiss, too. However, he also looked like he knew very well what troubles would come with it. I should be thankful that he pulled back. And I am. In some ways.

  Absently, my fingertips run across my bottom lip. Still, a part of me regrets that I didn’t feel Quentin’s mouth on mine.

  I slip into the dark red dress with its thin straps and buckle my brown sandals around my ankles, struggling to get out of the vortex of feelings that have had me in a tight grip the past five minutes. Keeping a secret about a vampire is hard enough. I don’t want to complicate things even more by losing my heart to said vampire.

  Taking a deep breath, I head downstairs where my grandmother relaxes on the sofa with her knitting. Not to worry her in case I come home late, I tell her that I’m heading over to Rosemarie’s for a movie night. When Nana sees me in my dress, her crinkly face splits with a smile. “Will Trayan stay with you girls?”

  Ugh. Totally getting it wrong, Nana! “I…no, I don’t think he will.”

  She gets up and pinches my cheek anyway in that playful way that really isn’t right for a ninety-seven-year-old woman. Shaking my head, I chuckle and leave her alone with her hobby.

  Outside, I walk in the direction of Rosemarie’s house first until I’m well out of sight of our cottage. Then I take a sharp left, sneak through the neighborhood, and head toward Mount Cetatea on a detour.

  I need to tell Quentin about Rosemarie and the strange talk we had today as soon as possible, and then make plans with him for how to solve the problem—without anybody getting hurt or killed.

  It’s still bright daylight when I arrive at the castle, so I’m careful not to open the door too far as I slip inside, in case Quentin is close. As I shut it, I stand in utter darkness, and all my recent thoughts are wiped away with the sound of an eerie thud.

  “Quentin?” My voice echoes through the hall. There’s no fire burning in the hearth today like there was the last couple of times I came here, and I didn’t bring a flashlight. Not being able to see anything creeps me out. “Hello?”

  Across the hall, a single candle ignites with a magical spark on the small table by the wingback chair. No one’s over there, but a shiver runs down my back, and the corners of my mouth kick into a smile because I know who did that, and I know he’s near.

  I take a step into the hall and move toward the small table when the next flame kindles. This time, it’s a candle on an old, dusty shelf next to the chair. My
grin gets wider—someone’s up to something.

  Reluctantly, I take another step forward and, suddenly, one candle after the other sparks to life. Starting with the one on the table, they daisy-chain along the walls all around the hall. I spin on the spot, tracking the procession as the room starts to gently glow around me, and a soft song begins to play. It’s a beautiful version of Auld Lang Syne, the first few chords of the guitar strings unmistakable. It gives me goosebumps of a wonderful kind.

  At the bottom of the stairs, the line of flames splits in two and continues up, two candles placed on each step of the staircase with the center of each stair open. Quentin slowly walks down between the strings of lights.

  Hands tucked into his pockets, he’s sporting a white dress shirt with rolled up sleeves, black jeans, and a smile. And he actually wears the dark gray tie that he used to bind me to the lamppost last night. It’s loosely slung around his neck. He obviously doesn’t know how to do up a tie.

  “Good evening, Lady Abigail,” he drawls, his warm gaze fastened on me.

  My heart begins to stutter. During the past hours, Quentin turned this cold and musty castle into a real fairy tale. For me…? He must have planned it all last night when he told me to wear this dress.

  Touched and feeling a little bit playful, I clap my hands over my heart and grin as he descends the stairs, step by slow step. “Oh, look, it’s a Dracula.”

  He makes me laugh when he draws his upper lip back in a smirk, revealing his extended fangs. But they disappear before he reaches the bottom stair, his face once again flawless and gorgeous.

  I’m still frozen to the spot as he pulls his hands out of his pockets and lays them on my hips, dragging me closer. “Sorry, I know I’m not the perfect prince of your dreams,” he says, starting to sway me gently to the song that must be playing from his cell phone somewhere upstairs, “but I hope you like it anyway. Tonight, you’ll be the princess of the ball.”