“Okay,” I add, “and the D words, too. Dog, donut, dragonfly.” D is for: Don’t show what you’re feeling. Think of things you like instead. Stella loves dogs, donuts, and dragonflies.
She forces a smile onto her tiny lips.
That’s my girl.
“Mommy, you said I could have ice cream tonight. How many scoops?” She’s really asking how long I’ll be gone, and it takes everything I have to not tear up. The truth is, I might never return, and leaving her to grow up without me is more than I can bear. But living under constant threat from Nice is not an option. He nearly killed me today.
“Oh, what a memory you have,” I say. “I did promise you ice cream, didn’t I? Well, let’s see… If you’re a very good girl, you can have two scoops. No, wait, make that three scoops.” Code for: I will be gone for two or three days.
“Banana flavor,” she says. Stella hates banana. She’s saying she doesn’t like this.
“No. Not banana,” I correct. “Vanilla and chocolate.”
Vanilla means it’s plain, nothing to worry about. Chocolate means to relax. If I had said strawberry, it would mean for her to run and keep running until she could get somewhere safe.
“You are not feeding the child chocolate. She is not old enough.” Michael scowls, hovering over us.
I was so engrossed with my conversation, I didn’t even hear him come up.
“She’s half human, Michael,” I remind him. “It’s perfectly safe for her to have a tiny spoonful.”
“Hmmph!” He turns and starts heading for the exit. “Hurry up, we don’t have time to waste. And ice cream will have to wait.”
I don’t want him to catch on to the secret conversation, so I say, “But I was just telling her all about the ice-cream parlor you opened at headquarters.” Very strange, but I guess he’s got his cover story to maintain. I’ve heard of stranger things for sure. Like vampire Jiffy, who recently opened a hula hoop store down the street from my library. Just hula hoops. Nothing else. And apparently, he’s very old and only eats peanut butter. (Plus the occasional bag of blood.) I think some people never adjust to vampire life and slowly go crazy.
That’ll be me for sure.
“It will have to wait,” Michael calls out. “Come now!”
“Be right there,” I say begrudgingly. “Are you ready, Stella?”
“Where am I going, Mommy?”
“Somewhere safe. Somewhere Mr. Nice can’t find you. And we will bake muffins.” Baking muffins means I love you.
“I like baking muffins,” she says with a subtle sadness.
I offer her my warmest, most loving smile and squeeze her leg. I can’t do anything more than that or Michael might notice. “Goobers. Muffins with Goobers.” Goodbye. I love you.
“We really need to discuss what you are feeding the child!” Michael calls from outside the plane. He can hear us. Of course he can.
I kiss Stella on the forehead. “Let’s go.” I take her by the hand and notice Freddy is right behind us. I can only hope he meant what he said, that he won’t let anything happen to my princess.
We exit the plane and descend the metal stairs. As soon as we get to the bottom, I turn to Stella. It is a frigid February evening. “Oh, God, sweetie, you don’t look so well. Are you all right?”
Right on cue, Stella doubles over and starts screaming. Michael, a few of his guards, and some of the ground crew rush over.
The minute their eyes are on her, I run, leaving the last living piece of my heart behind in the care of the man who doesn’t have one.
CHAPTER NINE
Michael
“What is the matter, child?” I grumble at…at…the child. She will not stop screaming. “I told your mother she cannot feed you all that chocolate. What was it? A cookie?”
The child doesn’t respond.
I look over at Freddy, who shrugs in his basketball shorts and red tee. He looks ridiculous. Suits are the only real clothes for a man to wear.
“Ahhh! It hurts!” The child’s tiny voice sounds like a police siren, attracting everyone’s attention within a mile.
I do not know what is happening to her, so it is best to assume she was poisoned or we are under attack. “Freddy, quick. Get the car. I’ll meet you over the east wall.” Better not to use the human entrance or exits from the small private airport.
Freddy dashes off, and I scoop the child into my arms as she moans. “Stay close,” I call over my shoulder at the librarian and run a little slower than usual, not wishing to lose her. By the time I get to the wall, I have come up with a short list of possible causes for her ailment, and none of them are good. “Librarian, I think we must take the child to one of our doctors at headquarters. I realize it is a risk to go there, since Nice might be waiting, but it is the best choice.” That part about Nice is a lie. He is not in Ohio.
I do not hear a reply.
When I turn my head, the librarian is nowhere to be found.
“Where is she?” I should go back and search for her, but what if we are under attack?
No, best I hand the child to Freddy and go back on my own to look for the librarian.
I hear the SUV pull up on the other side of the wall, so I leap. The child makes a little grunt from the impact of the landing, but she seems no worse off. I open the door to the backseat and slide the child in. “Freddy! I think they’ve taken the librarian. Please call Dr. Kleen and have him meet you at headquarters. I will be right behind you.”
“Yes, sir.” Freddy drives off, and I hop back over the wall. When I get to our plane, there is no sign of the librarian. I ask the ground crew and pilot if they’ve seen her, but no.
I raise my face to the air and slowly inhale. I have never been able to explain how or why, but the librarian and I have a connection. I can sense her. The bond has grown weaker over the years since we’ve been apart and since I took the throne, but it is still there.
Where are you, librarian? Where have you gone? I catch a note of her sweet scent still lingering in the wintery night air. I don’t know which direction she went, but I sense she’s nervous. Not afraid for her life, but nervous. Or maybe anxious.
Dammit! And just like that, I know she’s up to something. Or, really, one thing: She’s going after Nice. What other reason would she leave the child?
Dammit, woman! Does she not understand how dangerous he is? Not only that, but I have my reasons for wanting Nice kept alive. Yes, he must pay for what he has done, but death isn’t the sort of compensation I seek. Not until I have what I want from him.
I have to warn Freddy that I will not be able to join him and Stella, so they should move on to the safe house once a doctor has looked her over. I hope she is all right. The illness came on so suddenly and—
Hold on. That sneaky little…
The child was merely performing—a distraction so that her mother could slip away. Very good, little one. If I had a heart, it would be glowing with pride. The child has a knack for acting, which, in my world, is paramount to survival. Vampires are always acting. Only a handful of individuals ever truly get to know the person behind the fangs.
I must inform Freddy about the ruse. I reach my hand inside my coat pocket, but my cell is completely dead.
But I charged it! I also left my power cord on the plane.
I dart up the stairs and inside the plane to check my seat.
Right there on the floor is my cord, and it is not connected to anything. The librarian must have unplugged it during the flight.
I smile at her deviousness. My librarian is a crafty little thing.
Suddenly, it dawns on me that my face just felt an emotion. Not my heart. Not my mind. But my lips and mouth. It is almost as if they are operating independently.
Odd. Must be muscle memory.
When I arrive to our headquarters near downtown Cincinnati, I find Freddy and the child on the second floor in our doctor’s office.
Freddy spots me coming out of the elevator and hops up from his chair j
ust outside the exam room. “Dr. Kleen is going to monitor her for a few more hours, but they found nothing wrong with Stella.”
I gesture for him to sit back down. “Not to worry. I know what ails her.” I enter the room and greet Dr. Kleen. He is a tall man who appears to be thirteen, but is really about a hundred and two. “Thank you for looking after the child. Would you mind giving us a moment alone?”
“Of course, my king.” He leaves, and I pull up the rolling stool. The child avoids eye contact, but I know she can sense something is up.
“Where did she go, child?” I ask.
The child shrugs and fiddles with her fingers.
“Listen to me,” I say sternly. “This is important. Mr. Nice is nothing like his name—something I suspect you already know, since you spent some time with him. He will most definitely kill your mother if she fails at killing him first.”
The child’s head whips up, and her big brown eyes twitch with defiance. Love it. “Mommy is the fastest, smartest, and most dangerous vampire killer on the planet.”
I want to laugh but can’t. I have no sense of humor. “Did she tell you that?”
The child shakes her head. “No, it’s written in Grandma and Grandpa’s special book. Mommy holds the all-time record for most vampire kills before the age of eighteen. She said she would have gotten you, too, if she’d found you before she quit.”
What the hell? “You must be mistaken. Your mother said she never became a Keeper.”
“She lied.” The child smiles smugly, as if to say: Put that in your pipe and smoke it, old man. “That’s only what she and my grandparents told everyone—so Mommy could secretly rid the world of violent, dangerous bloodsuckers.”
Wow. Just…wow. If the child is telling the truth, then that means my librarian has been keeping secrets. Again, I want to laugh but cannot. I always assumed they called themselves the Keepers because they were trained to keep humans safe.
During the Great War over three hundred years ago, Clive knew that our side—which was fighting to tame wild vampires—might not win. He wanted humans to be equipped to save themselves should the worst happen. In secret, he recruited several human families and trained them how to kill vampires. Again, no one knows how many or who. According to what I read in Keeper records down in Miriam’s vault, the families did not have knowledge of each other. A smart move on Clive’s part, because should one family be captured, they could not be tortured to disclose the names of the other Keepers.
In any case, I am beginning to suspect that the name Keeper really refers to their penchant for keeping secrets. I doubt Clive knew his little human army was out hunting vampires on their own for non-defense reasons. If he had, he would have killed the librarian, like he killed her parents about six years ago. I suspect he wanted to get rid of them the moment he regretted his decision to allow humans to run this world in lieu of us, the apex predators.
“Mr. Nice was on the list, too,” the child adds. “Right behind your name, the Executioner.”
“Well, how fortunate we are that your mommy quit hunting our kind when she did, or you wouldn’t be here now, would you?” If I had died, then there would be no child.
She shrugs.
“In any case, your mother cannot kill Mr. Nice. You must tell me where she went.”
“I don’t know.”
I cannot tell if she is lying. “If you did know, it would be very important to say the truth. What if I told you that Mr. Nice has something magical, and I need it? It could help a lot of people.”
“His cape collection?” she asks.
“No. Although that is fairly impressive, I hear. But this is something far more important. It is in his blood.”
The child looks at me, perplexed. “You want to make an army, don’t you? Mommy told me that the man who made you used his blood to make really strong soldiers because he wanted to make a super-army. She said that the older a vampire is and closer to the first vampires, the faster they are.”
“For a five-year-old, you know a lot.”
“Mommy’s a librarian. She knows everything and says that I should, too, because knowledge is the only real power.”
Well, then clearly the child has never experienced the Carolina Reaper. It’s a pepper so hot that it paralyzes your entire face for ten whole minutes. “There are many powers in this world, child. Believe me, I know, since I am one of them. But if you truly care for your mother, you will put your trust in me and tell me what you know.”
“You’re the Executioner, why would I trust a vampire who doesn’t love anyone? Even the Beast found a way to love Bella. You can’t even love your own daughter. You won’t even say my name.”
The oddest sensation washes over me. It’s a displeasure that is not anchored in logic or laws. I haven’t lost my memories, so I know what sadness feels like. This is different. It hits me in a place so deep within my body, I question if it isn’t a figment of my imagination.
Pain. It is pain. Not emotional, but physical. I am stunned by this occurrence. How is it possible that her words could cause my gizzards discomfort?
“Child, I do not say your name because…well…” I do not know, really.
She drags a fist beneath her eye to wipe away her tears. “You don’t love me because I’m not like you.”
“No, no, no, child. I don’t love you because I have no heart. I love no one.” There. That should make her feel better.
She begins to bawl.
Oh, wonderful. “Look, Stel—you, I may not be capable of giving affection or fatherly advice, but I can give you something far better: loyalty. People love each other all the time, yet they stab each other in the back, they put their own interests first. Couples divorce, mothers marry men who are not fit to be fathers, husbands have affairs with younger women. Brothers steal from brothers. Sisters spite sisters over jealousy. I have been alive for over four hundred years and can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that love does not mean a person will do you no harm. But loyalty?” I shake my index finger at her. “It is priceless. It means that come what may, I will value your well-being above my own.”
The child rolls over on the gurney and buries her face in the pillow to sob. I can tell she is confused. My words contradict what she has been taught.
I brush her long blonde hair from the side of her head. “No need for tears, little one. You have my loyalty, and so does your mother. I will always protect you both.” Even if I am incapable of loving you. Even if a part of me wishes I could. But I know it would only end in tragedy. I loved the librarian once. With all my heart. But it only resulted in poor decisions. I acted to protect her when I should have been thinking about the bigger picture: my people, the Uprising, the world we live in. I was too blind to see that if those things weren’t fixed, it would not matter if I saved her.
Then, ironically, my fear of losing the librarian led to me actually losing her. My heart and emotions got in the way, and even she would not argue with that. This version of myself may be tough, but I trust him to do what is right. “Child, I will ask you one more time, where did your mother go?”
“I don’t know. She just said she had to leave and would be back in a few days.”
I have no choice but to believe her. “Very well. Let us get you to the safe house.” Then I have an idea. “I will let you try some of my new ice cream downstairs in the lobby. We have type O flavor with chipotle peppers. It’s quite delicious.”
The child rolls over, looks at me like I’m mad, and begins crying again.
So no bloody ice cream?
CHAPTER TEN
Miriam
The moment I started putting feelers out on the gossip tree about Alex, I knew the clock would start ticking. Someone would tell Michael. Because vampires are nosy bodies. “King Vanderhorst, is there any particular reason your ex-woman is asking questions about your ex-best friend?”
But I did get a lead on Alex, who’s currently holed up somewhere in Michigan, about an hour north of L
ansing. At best, I have an hour’s head start on Michael, who I’m sure has figured out by now that Stella is not ill, and will be tracking me down. Which is why I ran from the airport terminal in Detroit, grabbed my rental, and flew like a bat out of hell from the city.
Michael has the advantage with a private plane and a private airport directly in Lansing. If I’m lucky, I’ll get to Alex, persuade him to tell me the last known location of Lula, and get the heck away. The problem is, I’ve known all along that Alex could lead me to Nice if I so chose to hunt him. But Alex is not what you’d call a friendly vampire.
Just by showing up at his place, I’m risking my life. Everyone says he’s haunted by years of battle, and ever since Lula ran off with Nice, he’s become less and less kind, more and more tormented. Like I said, if I’m lucky, he’ll help lead me to her. If I’m double lucky, he’ll tell Michael to piss off when he shows up five minutes after I’ve left.
In my silver Ford Focus, I pull up to the white farmhouse that’s situated down a dirt road lined with scraggly pines. There’s a good three feet of snow on the ground, and all around me are frozen cornfields with slouching, rotting brown stalks, like a scene out of a wintery apocalyptic horror film entitled Cranky Reclusive Vampire of the Michigan Corn. But at least his driveway’s been plowed recently. There are also thick icicles hanging from the roof, which means someone is living here and heating it. He also has crappy insulation.
I hop out of my car, hearing the crunch of fresh snow under my newly purchased boots as I head to the front porch, which is piled high with cut wood. I also managed to buy a jacket and sweatshirt at the airport (Go UM), but honestly, the cold isn’t really affecting me like I thought it would. I guess being a vampire does have its benefits.
I ring the doorbell and listen for signs of movement inside. Nothing. “Hello? Alex? Are you in there? It’s Miriam. I really need to talk to you.”
I wait, but no one comes to the door, and the only noise I hear is the ominous squawking of a blackbird perched in one of the frozen pine trees.
The Librarian's Vampire Assistant, Book 5 Page 6
