by Emily Knight
Ana flew them as far as the edge of the meadow. She set Peter down and transformed into her human form. Peter glanced between where they stood and the house. "Why'd we stop here?"
She pressed a finger to her lips and swept her eyes over the meadow. "I can't fit you through the window, and I don't know where my dad is," she whispered.
He took one step into the meadow and looked around. "Yeah, but what about those dogs? They were real eager to get a taste of me last night."
She cautiously moved into the meadow and shook her head. "Dad only lets them out when he thinks there's an intruder. Otherwise they're kept in a pen on the other side of the house. If we let them roam they sometimes come back with a bone or small animal."
One edge of Peter's mouth twitched. "Of course they'd come back with a bone. . ." he murmured as he followed her across the field.
They traveled only five feet before Ana froze. She spun around and Peter saw that her eyes were tinged with red. Her eyes swept across the edge of the meadow. They stopped at a point behind them and she quickly pulled him behind her. "Someone's in there," she whispered to him.
"If your vision has failed you then there is always the use of your nose," a voice spoke from the trees. Roger stepped out from the brush with a strap on one shoulder and a net on a long pole in his opposite hand. A wooden box lay at the end of the strap, and the lid had a thick clasp that was unclasped. He looked between them and stopped on Ana. "It seems you have brought a visitor, Miss Ana. Might we be introduced?"
"Um, of course," Ana agreed. She stepped to one side and gestured first to Peter. "This is Peter. Peter, this is Roger West, an old friend of my family."
"Nice to meet you," Peter replied. He shook hands and was surprised at how clammy and bumpy the skin felt.
Roger examined the young man before he bowed his head. "A pleasure, Peter. It is not everyone who meets Lysander eye-to-eye and comes off as nearly the winner."
Peter frowned. "Lysander?"
"That's my dad's name," Ana explained. She turned to Roger. "Do you know where Dad is?"
He shook his head. "I'm afraid I have no clue. I would assist you in sneaking your significant other into the home, but I'm very busy looking for a specific specimen." He held up the empty box. "Nothing is as sad to a hunter as an unused trap."
"That's fine, I'm sure I can sneak him into my room," she assured him.
Roger smiled and bowed his head. "Then I wish you luck, and a goodnight."
"Goodnight," the two young adults returned.
Roger turned and disappeared into the dense jungle of trees. Ana sighed and glanced at Peter. "It's a good thing Roger doesn't mind you. He may not look like much, but he's very smart and would have gotten us into a lot of trouble."
Peter nodded his head in the direction Roger had disappeared. "What's the deal with him? I thought your dad didn't like humans?"
Ana shrugged and guided Peter toward the house. "He's not really human. He's over a hundred years old."
Peter frowned. "Funny, he didn't look much past sixty."
Ana smiled. "That's because he's done so many experiments on himself that his body's made of more chemicals than blood, so he's one of the few people who don't have to worry about vampire attacks. The chemicals keep him young, but-well-" she tapped her temple with a finger, "-he's a little troubled in the head."
"So nuts?" Peter guessed.
She nodded. "You could say that, but he's harmless so long as he doesn't tell my dad about us," she added. She paused and glanced upward.
Peter followed her gaze and realized they'd reached the house. He glanced at his guide. "So, uh, you don't happen to have any powers to like detect your dad, do you?"
Ana bit her lower lip. "No, and he's far too quiet for me to hear."
"Even with that cane?" he asked her.
"If he doesn't want to be heard he won't be," she assured him. She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the front door. "But maybe he's in his study. That's at the back of the house. We might be able to sneak you up the stairs and into my room."
Peter cringed. "Um, maybe this isn't such a good idea."
Too late. Ana opened the door and hurried him inside. She turned back to the door and quietly shut the entrance behind them. Peter looked down the hallway and his eyes widened when he noticed a light at the far end. It came from a doorway on the right, and a shadow slid out of the room along the floor and up the wall.
Ana turned around and gasped. "Dad!" she whispered. She whipped her head to and fro. Her eyes fell on a door to the right of the front entrance. "Quick, hide in here!" She grabbed Peter's arm, opened the door, and flung him inside.
Peter flew the three feet of space and hit the wall. His face cushioned the rest of his body. He groaned and rubbed his nose as he looked around him. In the near-blackness he could make out coats. He was in a closet. There was also something white that stood in the far corner a foot from where he stood. It was about his height and he swore he heard a rattle. He leaned forward and squinted his eyes.
Peter's eyes bulged out of his head when he realized the white thing was a skeleton. Its back leaned against the corner and its empty eyes stared back at him. Then the skeleton leaned forward and pressed a bony finger to its teeth. Peter opened his mouth and let out a scream. The skeleton slammed its back against the wall and screamed in unison. Their high-pitched screams mimicked a choir of alter boys.
Ana's voice broke through their cries. "Hey, Dad!"
Peter and the skeleton simultaneously slapped their hands over one another's mouths. Peter wouldn't be caught dead in a closet, but it was too late for the skeleton.
Outside the closet Ana was relieved to hear the sound stop because her father exited his study and limped his way toward her. She tried not to look at the closet as she gave her parent a strained smile.
Lysander stopped a foot from her and raised an eyebrow. "Ana, I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you would be flying through the woods."
She shrugged and leaned to one side. That side happened to be toward the closet, so she switched sides. "Well, you know there's only so many times I can see the same trees and bushes."
"Or the same gentleman?" he returned. He knocked his hand against the closet door and it sprang open. Out fell Peter and the skeleton onto the floor in the hall. Peter cushioned the fall of the bag of bones. The young man jumped to his feet and brushed it off. He wiped his hands on his clothes and shuddered. Lysander cleared his throat. Peter spun around and smiled at him.
Peter gave a weak wave. "Um, hi, Mr.-um, Lysander."
Ana stepped in front of Peter and held out her hands toward her parent. "Dad, I can explain this."
Lysander leaned forward on his cane and narrowed his eyes at Peter. "I warned you to leave this place and never return."
Peter shrugged. "Come on, it's not like I'm doing anything-" He yelped when Lysander went from standing a few feet from him to brushing aside Ana and towering over him. The whole action took less than a second. Peter shrank beneath those bright red eyes.
Lysander pointed a finger at the door. "Begone, and never return here."
Peter opened his mouth, but Ana took hold of his arm. He looked down at her and she shook her head. "You should go," she told him.
Peter's shoulders drooped and he nodded. He pulled from her grasp, turned away from the pair and exited the house. Lysander turned to his daughter. "Go to your room," he ordered her.
Ana took a step toward him and clasped her hands against her chest. "Dad, you don't understand. He doesn't-"
"I said go to your room!" he boomed. The red color blazed in his eyes and long, dark shadows were thrown on the walls of the hall.
Ana winced and shrunk from his anger. She looked past him and through the window on the side of the door. She could see Peter's retreating back, and her fright changed to anger. She clenched her fists at her sides and whipped her head back to her father
. "You never listen! You think you're keeping me safe here, but you're not! You're trapping us in a cage and someday somebody's going to find us and destroy us!" She swept past him and up the stairs to her room.
Lysander reached out a hand, but even his speed wasn't fast enough to catch his daughter. He looked up the stairs where she'd gone and narrowed his eyes. His gaze turned to the exterior window, and he could see the young man disappear into the woods. He frowned and knocked his cane against the wood. The hard wood of his stick broke through the fragile wood of the floor boards. "Damn it. . ."
