“Probably ‘Nobody kills my husband and survives to brag about it’? I understand the sentiment, but Lenore is going to get killed, too.”
“Hurry, Ellie!”
Gregory didn’t appreciate the early wake-up, but his wails calmed once he’d been buckled into his cozy car seat, a rear-facing variety with cartoon ducks on its fabric lining. Ellie tried to call Lenore five times during the drive to Willowbee. Each attempt went directly to voicemail. “Lenore either turned her phone off, or it ran out of power,” she said. “I don’t know which is worse.”
“Do you see her?” Vivian asked. She pulled up next to the iron gate outside the Allerton mansion. All the front-facing windows shone like rectangles of golden sunlight. Despite the late hour, the forested grounds bustled with activity; Ellie noticed figures milling between the trees, their faces obscured by dimness. They resembled shadow puppets. Some of the human silhouettes were indistinguishable from the forest until they moved.
“She isn’t here,” Vivian said, sounding at once surprised and relieved.
“Not yet, anyway. Want me to call her parents again and update them?”
“In a moment.” Vivian stared at the manor grounds, no doubt puzzled by its activity too. “Are those people?”
“He throws a lot of parties,” Ellie said. “Like, there’s a masquerade in a week. I don’t what the heck this is, though. Hide-and-seek after dark? Want to knock on the gate and ask if they’ve seen a young woman?”
Vivian shook her head. Since they’d left the house, her hair had dried into damp strings. The pointed tips swayed side-to-side in front of her chest and around her shoulders. Ellie thought of pendulums. Time ticking forward beat by beat to an inevitable conclusion. Would she and her mother find Lenore before the morning?
It occurred to her, then, that Trevor would be extremely disappointed to learn that Ellie, Vivian, and his infant son were idling outside a murderer’s house because Lenore was missing. Trevor never asked for vengeance. He wanted his family to be safe. “Mom,” she said. “I screwed up.”
“This isn’t your fault.” Vivian tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. “Where would Lenore go? Maybe … hm … there’s a nearby Waffle Hut that’s open late. She enjoys waffles, right?”
“Who doesn’t?”
There was another possibility, of course. One Ellie didn’t want to consider.
The grave.
“Me too,” Vivian said. “Please be there, Lenore. Please.” She put her hand on the gear shift, but before she could reverse and turn around, a tall, pale man stepped behind the car and spread his arms.
Ellie first saw his face reflected in the rearview mirror; his eyes sparked, reflecting the van’s taillights like a pair of cat eyes. Vampire, she thought. She hoped that he was harmless, like Al.
“What the—excuse me! Can we help you?” her mother shouted, cracking the window so her voice would carry outside the car. If the vampire had an ounce of power, he could hear their heartbeats and breaths without difficulty. A pane of glass would not impede him from eavesdropping on their conversation.
Anxiously, Ellie again looked out the window. The figures in the forest were all standing still, like stone statues or—and this thought chilled her blood—department-store mannequins. She wondered if they were vampires too. That would explain why they didn’t carry flashlights. It didn’t, however, explain why they were lurking around Dr. Allerton’s property like the creepiest alternatives to garden gnomes.
The cursed man behind them gave a chipper wave and jogged up to the driver’s side window. He leaned over, going eye-to-eye with Ellie’s mother. He had a contemporary haircut, trimmed tight around his ears and messy on the top. His lips and cheeks had the feverish blush of a well-fed vampire.
“I was fixin’ to ask you the same thing, ma’am,” he said. “Are you ladies lost? Town’s that way.” He pointed down the street.
“Thank you,” Vivian said. “Actually, we were turning around until—”
“Cute baby,” he interrupted, and the tip of his red, sharp tongue flicked across his lips. Ellie couldn’t decide if he was being theatrically sinister to frighten them off, or if his curse was so deep-rooted, he could not suppress the expression of terrible hunger.
Vivian rolled up the window, rapped the glass with her knuckles, and reversed. She made a quick, tight U-turn. Half-obscured by the car-exhaust fog, the vampire raised his hand. Was he waving goodbye or reaching for them?
Once the mansion was a quarter mile behind them, Ellie felt safe speaking again. They were alone on the dark road. “Cute baby?” she asked. “What the hell? We should have—”
With a tremendous thunk, the minivan roof bent inward, as if something heavy had landed over Ellie’s head. She cried out, startled, “What is that?”
“We were followed,” Vivian said, slowing from forty to twenty-five. “Protect the baby!”
Ellie unbuckled and climbed into the back seat. There, she draped her arm over Gregory. He clutched her sleeve and shrieked happily.
“Get off my car!” Vivian shouted, smacking the felt-coated roof. The interloper knocked twice in response.
“Kirby, destroy!” Ellie shouted. “Get him, boy!”
Kirby whined and huddled against the floor. Usually, he saved his aggression for people who hurt Ellie. When Ellie was nine, a kid named Sam shoved her against a tree, and Kirby started barking like a Baskerville Hound, his teeth bared. If Sam hadn’t run away, the old springer spaniel might have torn him a new one. That said, Kirby wasn’t trained to attack car-surfing vampires.
“This is your last warning!” Vivian shouted. “Leave us alone!”
An upside-down face peeked through the windshield. Unsurprisingly, the baby-threatening creep from Dr. Allerton’s mansion had chased them. He mouthed the word good and pulled back a fist, poised to break the glass with his bare knuckles.
“This is my home, my people’s home!” Vivian shouted. “You aren’t welcome along the Kunétai! You aren’t welcome in my home!’” She slammed the brakes, and the vampire flew off the car and tumbled down the cement road. He stood, pinned by the headlights.
“What was that?” he shouted. He grinned, like Vivian had made a joke. For a moment, Ellie wondered if her mother had made a mistake. Nothing happened.
Until the grin faltered.
“What have you done?” the vampire asked. “I feel like … no. This is a public road. You have no rights over it. None!” He staggered forward and swiped a fist at the van, but his movements were so sluggish, it didn’t make a dent. Vivian rolled down her window and leaned outside, while Ellie watched the spectacle from the back seat.
“What has she done?” the vampire cried. “What has she done? I’m dying!” He started to bleed. From his tear ducts, his nose, his ears. He bled from his pores, and the pink sweat smoked, as if evaporating. It smelled like unseasoned meat.
“You might survive,” Vivian said, “but not here. We’re Lipan Apache.”
“So?” he screeched, spraying red spittle. Ruby flecks peppered the windshield. “Is that like … magical?”
“No. Christ. We’re Indigenous to the southern US and northern Mexico. Really, you’ve never heard of us?”
“I know what Apaches were—”
“Were? This land is still our home, and Euro-vamps can’t occupy a home when they’re unwelcome.”
“I pay taxes! It’s a public road, bitch!”
“You don’t pay taxes to my people,” Vivian said. “I hope you came here alone. I’m not afraid to banish all your friends.”
As the vampire’s hair began to fall out, he wailed, “I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it!”
“What you believe means nothing,” Vivian said. “If you want a chance to live, start running north. Don’t stop till you’re off our land.”
“How large is Apache land?” he asked, backing away from the minivan.
“Before colonization,” Vivian said, “we were a cyclical people, moving with
the seasons. Our home is vast.”
With a sickly poof of mist, the vampire shifted to bat form, a skill that only the oldest, strongest curses produced. Curses that had developed for a century, at minimum. He zipped and zigzagged through the sky, like a pinball with wings, and eventually vanished with distance.
“I’m surprised he didn’t know about our power over him,” Ellie said.
“Not many people do,” Vivian said. “Probably ’cause it raises uncomfortable facts about dispossession and colonization.”
“Why did he attack us? Did Allerton send him?”
“I don’t think so. He came alone.” A contemplative moment passed. Baby Gregory gurgled and laughed. Vivian continued, “Sometimes, the vampire curse makes it difficult to restrain violent impulses. Especially old curses. Considering his bat trick, I’m surprised that he had any control at all. We … need to find Lenore.” She pressed the accelerator. Ellie remained in the back seat with the baby, just in case.
“What are all those vampires doing on Dr. Allerton’s lawn, though?” Ellie asked, chewing on her thumbnail. “None of this makes any sense.”
“It will. There’s an explanation. Must be. Something simple. One wretched secret that explains everything. Occam’s razor.”
When they stopped at a red light, a black SUV pulled up behind them. It had local plates and an innocent-looking driver, but Ellie, concerned that Dr. Allerton sent a friend to tail them, watched the stranger’s blurry reflection in the rearview mirror until the light turned green. The SUV followed them a minute longer before turning onto a side road.
“It’ll hurt,” Vivian said.
“What will, Mom?”
“The secret. Learning the secret. It will hurt, because I can’t think of anything …” Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, flexing. “I can’t think of anything worth his death.”
“Me either.”
“When I was a new teacher, one of my students lost his father during a robbery.”
“God,” Ellie said. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too. The kid’s father was a good man. I met him during a basketball game at the high school. He worked two jobs. Had to. His family needed every cent.”
“What happened?”
“Two guys robbed the twenty-four-hour convenience store that employed him at night. It was a little roadside operation that sold junk food, amenities, and gas. The robbers wanted money, cigarettes, and beef jerky. He emptied the cash register, gave them everything they asked for, but one robber shot him anyway.”
“That’s terrible.”
“The two made off with four hundred dollars, Marlboros, and ten bags of dried meat. I remember a news reporter saying, ‘They killed a man for just four hundred dollars.’ And I thought that the word ‘just’ was completely unnecessary. No amount of money would make the crime less heinous. I don’t care if there was four billion dollars in that register, Ellie.”
“How’d the kid manage after his father died? That … that’s just …” Sometimes, it occurred to Ellie that her parents would not live forever, but she always crammed the thought into a neglected pocket of her brain before it could blossom into full-blown horror.
“With great difficulty,” Vivian said. “He took a couple weeks off to mourn, and when he returned to school, his friends were supportive. Initially. After a while, he withdrew, or maybe they did. People cope with tragedy in different ways. That’s important, Ellie. There’s no one right method of grieving. He … how do I explain the way loss changed him? Besides the way his grades dropped. Besides the fair-weather friends he lost. I noticed a change in his eyes. Like he now viewed the world as the place that stole his father.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere kinder, I hope.”
A neon yellow WAFFLES ALL DAY sign beckoned them into a nearly empty parking lot outside a diner. As if on cue, Ellie’s phone rang. She checked the caller ID. “It’s Lenore!” she said, answering. “Hello?”
“Hi, Ellie. Sorry to miss your calls. I lost reception.”
“Where are you?”
“Visiting Trevor.”
“At this hour? Why didn’t you say something? We were worried! Mom and I thought you took a pitchfork to the Allerton mansion!”
“Just how reckless do you think I am?”
“I take the Fifth. Are … are you home?”
“Not yet. Twenty minutes. See you there?”
“Sure. I guess waffles are out of the question.”
“Waffles?”
“Ah, nevermind. Have a safe drive.”
“You too,” Lenore said.
After the call ended, Ellie turned to her mother. “Lenore was visiting the burial site.”
“I see. That’s worrisome.”
“Less worrisome than a one-on-one confrontation with the doctor, though.”
“Is it?”
Ellie’s phone chimed once. She had a message, but it wasn’t from Lenore. Jay had sent the following:
JAY (11:12 P.M.) – How’d you like to be my date to a fancy party at ABE ALLERTON’S MANSION? We should crash the masquerade together.
JAY (11:13 P.M.) – Platonic date.
JAY (11:13 P.M.) – For investigation.
JAY (11:14 P.M.) – Also fun.
JAY (11:15 P.M.) – Did I make things weird?
She hurriedly texted a reply:
EL (11:16 P.M.) – No weirder than usual.
EL (11:17 P.M.) – Maybe we should avoid the party tho. Maybe. Mansion is dangerous. Vampires. Tell u more later.
“What was that?” Vivian asked.
“Jay. He wants to crash Dr. Allerton’s party next week. It’s open to the public. It’s a charity event to celebrate Willowbee’s bicentennial.”
“Bicentennial? Two hundred years? That’s older than the state of Texas.”
“Huh! True enough. Weird.”
“More than weird. I’ve never heard of Willowbee before. An old town like that? We should know about it. Before Texas became a state … before the US government slaughtered us … our tribe helped the settlers. We traded goods. Protected their cities—Houston, for instance—as lookouts. We never had any business with Willowbee. Never. How can that be?”
“It can’t be,” Ellie said. “What the hell is going on?”
Perhaps Trevor’s death was entwined with a greater, stranger mystery than Ellie could have anticipated.
FOURTEEN
“IT’S JUST A LIBRARY,” Ellie said. “Mom, please?”
“A library in a creepy town.”
“I’ll ask Jay to come with me.”
“Why is this necessary?”
“To research the history of Willowbee. There’s a bicentennial exhibit in the—”
The front door opened with a rattle and click. Ellie and her mother had been waiting for Lenore to return, and now they both slipped into expectant silence. Lenore stepped into her living room. Her hands were grimy. Dirt clung to her long nails.
“Welcome back,” Vivian said. “Gregory is in his crib.”
“Thanks for watching him.” Lenore smiled. “I’m going to bed, too. There’s work in the morning. As they say: no rest for the wicked.”
“Um,” Ellie said, “were you …”
“Yes?” Lenore prompted, pausing in the arched hallway. She did not turn around.
“Were you digging?” Ellie asked. “Digging a hole in the burial ground?”
“Yes. I was.” With that, Lenore proceeded to her bedroom.
“She won’t manage to wake him up,” Vivian murmured. “No matter how hard she tries.”
“Are you sure?” Ellie whispered.
“Almost certain. It would have happened by now. I hope.”
“You hope.”
Despite all of the warnings Ellie had heard her whole life, the fact remained: waking up a human ghost was like getting struck by lightning. Extremely unlikely but dangerous enough that precautions had to be respected. When it came to attracting electrici
ty during a thunderstorm, there were ways to improve the odds. Fly an aluminum kite. Stand under a tall tree. Wave a metal pole at the tumultuous clouds. Likewise, if somebody wanted to wake up a ghost, they could repeat the deceased’s name, disturb their burial ground, or otherwise meddle with the dead person’s body, possessions, home, or family. Nothing was guaranteed, however. Folks stood under trees every day, rain and shine, without becoming a conduit for a billion volts of electricity. Similarly, although Lenore had disturbed the earth over Trevor’s body, that didn’t ensure that his ghost would pay a visit.
Even a one-in-a-million chance was too high for Ellie’s comfort.
“I thought Lenore understood,” Ellie said, “that he won’t come back the same.”
“Hm.” Vivian stared at the blank television screen, as if enthralled by its void. “Maybe she does understand.”
“That’s not reassuring! His ghost could kill us all!”
“Lenore probably believes that he’ll kill Dr. Allerton instead.” Vivian twisted side-to-side until her back made a cracking sound. “It’s been a long day. I’ll speak to her tomorrow. Are you going to bed, too?”
“In a bit,” Ellie said. “Or I might never sleep again, because it’d be dangerous to drop my guard for a second.”
“That’s why you have Kirby.”
“Stay vigilant, pup.” Kirby was curled on the sofa, a doughnut-shaped heat-mirage shimmer. As a living dog, he’d had a memory-foam doggy bed that was more comfortable than any La-Z-Boy recliner. Nevertheless, every time Ellie and her parents went on a family outing, they’d return to white and black fur on the sofa.
It didn’t matter anymore; Kirby had no fur to shed, no dirt on his paws, no flaking dander or wet tongue. He could sleep on her supper for all she cared.
Once Vivian left the room, Ellie sat down beside Kirby. “One more thing before we rest.” She unfolded Brett Allerton’s Nathaniel Grace biography and flipped to page two. It depicted the same hand-drawn church that was on page one, but in this drawing, the bell tower was engulfed by orange flames.
Brett had written: “People hurt things that frighten them. Other colonists lit the church on fire. Nathaniel Grace burned inside it. All his body burned, but his wife Joan rescued him.”
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