Sucked In

by Charissa Dufour

Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Nik drove us into Lacey using the main roads, which were just beginning to show signs of life. As we turned off Martin Way, I spotted a tired-looking man walking from his car to Jack in the Box, no doubt stuck prepping the restaurant for the breakfast rush. Nik pulled the car into the parking lot of North Thurston High School—my rivals from when I was in school, not that I played sports or anything. I was more of a speech and debate sort of girl.

  It's a wonder I had any friends, I thought absently as Nik parked the car.

  “We'll have to wait for her to get here,” he said waving casually at the clock, which now read 4:59 A.M. Nik dug his cell phone out of his pocket.

  “I take it she's a teacher?” I asked.

  Nik nodded. I looked out the window and up at the black sky. I didn't see any stars, but that could simply be due to the amount of artificial light in the school's parking lot. A second later, Nik interrupted my perusal of the sky to show me the screen of his phone. It showed the weather forecast for the day—rainy with a chance of showers, a cartoon sun covered by angry clouds. “Sun doesn't rise until about eight, even if she doesn't arrive until right before school starts, we should be fine.”

  Thankfully, we didn't have to wait three hours for her to arrive. The woman appeared shortly after six A.M., a spring her step despite the early hour. We waited for her to make it safely into the large building before getting out of the car, and stalking her into the school. Nik took the lead and directed us to her classroom as if he visited her twice a week.

  The room we found her in was like most American classrooms, one wall lined with blackboards, another with whiteboards. Above the blackboards was a shelf which held what looked like theater set designs made out of construction paper and cardboard. The center of the room was filled with small, institutional-looking desks attached to chairs, while the back of the room held a bedraggled couch and a large bookcase full to the point of overflowing. Near the front sat an outdated overhead projector—the kind that used transparencies rather than computers. The back wall, where the couch sat, held a collage that was clearly the result of many years and many classes. Though the wall had been painted a calming tan, it was now covered with photographs, theater programs, news articles, drawings, and even a stained man's tunic that had been attached with push pins. I wanted to approach the mural and take a closer look at the many pieces.

  Instead, I turned my attention to the woman staring at us from behind the cluttered desk tucked away into the far corner. Though not wearing a bathrobe, she was easily recognizable as the woman we had visited at her house on Thursday. She stared at us for a moment, her shoulders tense, and her eyes understandably wary. I wanted to comfort her, but I didn't know how. I had no idea what Nik intended to say or do, and I wouldn't lie to the woman.

  “So, she's still alive, eh?” the woman asked, hitching a leg on the corner of her desk and taking on a decidedly relaxed pose. I knew not to believe it. I could hear her racing heart and smell her fear. It made me thirsty.

  “Yes, and we were hoping you had come up with some more information,” Nik said in a surprisingly gracious voice. He usually just demanded things.

  “I'm afraid not. Have you learned anything that might give me a starting place?”

  “We spoke with Fanaus. Turns out Ashley is a descendent.”

  “You visited the fae?” Helen asked with a “you’re crazy” sort of smirk.

  “Yes, but she was unable to tell us about Ashley's past.”

  Helen nodded. “Of course.” The wizard paused, her fine brows puckered in thought. “Fine, I'll try something, if only to get you to leave me alone. Move the projector away,” she ordered. Josh jumped forward to obey and rolled the rickety contraption to the far wall. I vaguely remembered Nik saying magic and technology didn't mix well. “Though we'll have to be quick about it,” she added, glancing at the clock.

  There was nothing quick about her proceedings. It took her nearly forty-five minutes to prepare her spell. When I asked about the slow progress, she laughed. “My magic is not like that of the fae. It takes well laid out plans, preparation, and concentration.”

  Helen opened a large, locked drawer in her desk and pulled out what looked like an old fondue pot, lit the kerosene burner underneath it, and began plopping ingredients into the pot. The blob of stuff quickly began to bubble and put out a strangely compelling odor. When it was boiling to Helen's satisfaction, she looked at me and eyed my ring. I began to twitch as my spine tingled under her intense gaze.

  “Is that ring of importance to you?” she asked, her eyes flickering to the two men flanking me.

  I drew in a slow breath so that I could speak; suddenly realizing I’d been holding it. Thankfully, the odor of the mixture hid some of the human’s smell.

  “It was my mother's. I inherited it when she died,” I answered, my left hand going automatically to the ring on my right.

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Almost seven years,” I answered through clenched teeth. What did she want with my mother's wedding ring?

  “Good. Let me see it.” Helen held out her hand and waited. When I didn't immediately offer her my mother’s ring she sighed. “You'll get it back. I need something of yours that you treasure. It being your mother’s adds to the needed effect as part of your heritage.”

  I hesitated for another second before pulling the small diamond ring off and cringed as she dropped it into the brown mixture. She gave it one quick stir before closing her eyes and focusing, her head bent over it. To my surprise, there was no chanting or humming. Just simple concentration. I quickly got bored, tired, and thirsty. I went back to the mural and used it as a distraction from her now slow and steady heartbeat.

  “There was power in your line,” Helen finally said in a soft voice. I turned back to watch her. “I can feel the faintest ripple, so it must have been a long time ago.” The wizard hesitated, her brows furrowing in concentration, though she kept her eyes shut. “I see the sun. It should hurt… it doesn't.” Helen began panting, her shoulders hunching forward as if to protect herself. “Why doesn't it hurt?”

  Helen's eyes flashed opened and trained on me. They looked different. It took me a moment to realize the pupils were too big for the bright fluorescent lights illuminating the classroom.

  “You took that power from me! You made me fear the sun!” Her voice was harsh like gravel rubbed against the road. She prowled toward me, as though preparing to attack. After a few steps, she jerked upright, her pupils returning to their right size. She blinked a few times and took stock of our surprised faces around her.

  “Daywalker,” Nik stated. His mouth clamped shut in anger, his eyes fixing on the small fondue pot. I could tell he wasn't breathing, and that his shoulders had gone unusually stiff.

  The term “daywalker” was pretty self-explanatory. Since being turned, I'd never imagined there was a chance of being able to walk in the sun again. Sure, the vampires in my books had ways around that detail, but I hadn't gotten anything right, so why would this be any different? It was a pleasant surprise that there was a chance of sunbathing again.

  “I must say, I'd rather not see them succeed,” was Helen's parting phrase. It was a command more than anything else. She returned to her desk and began cleaning up. Once Helen had returned my ring, freshly cleaned, Nik took me by the arm and pulled me out of the classroom while Josh silently followed.

  A few teachers were beginning to arrive. They stared, their expressions confused, but didn't stop us. I contemplated my many questions as we crossed the wet parking lot and climbed into the car.

  Finally, I quietly asked, “I take it ‘daywalker’ is pretty self-explanatory?”

  There was a pause. Finally, Josh spoke from his seat in the back. “A daywalker is a vampire who's not hurt by the sun,” Josh stated, confirming my suspicions. The mood of the car changed subtly. I couldn't tell how it had changed, but something was different.

  I wondered if this wa
s something they were in favor of? The wizard obviously wasn't, but I wasn't exactly sure why. If Nik and Josh were in favor of becoming daywalkers, would they be willing to sacrifice me for the ability? I glanced at Nik. The concept sounded nice—being able to live normal lives out in the sun, but I had quickly learned that most “nice” things within the mystic world came with a hefty price. Was my death that price? If so, my enthusiasm for the project would take a distinct hit.

  Before I could summon the courage to ask them the other million questions bouncing around my brain, we pulled to a stop in front of the bar. I jumped out, eager to get inside and away from the rising sun. Josh and Nik followed at a more sedate pace. I had taken only a few steps when one of the early morning pedestrians grabbed me by the arm, twisting it up behind my back. Without giving it another thought, I attempted to wrench myself free. To my astonishment, whatever held me was far stronger than myself—preternatural strong. Other supposed pedestrians sprang into action. A man in a secondhand, outdated business suit and a hippie jumped at Josh. He ducked out of their grasp, trying to make it to my side. At the same instant, a passing car veered in our direction, crushing one of Nik's arms as he tried to dodge out of the way.

  It was late enough in the morning to expect humans about. Surprisingly, no one appeared. Even those that owned the nearby shops were late to work. A few other attackers had already joined the fight after jumping out of the car that had tried to smash Nik. Three went for Nik, who was swinging at them with his one good arm, while the driver went to help the man struggling with me.

  In a last ditch attempt, I bent forward and flung my attacker over my back—straight into the enormous, tinted window. It shattered around him, bits of glass cutting into his flesh while other pieces tinkled to the ground. Surely someone downstairs would have heard that. I jumped forward as fast as my weary body could and tried to drive more shards of glass into his body, but the sun was rising, turning the dark gray clouds into a white sheet over our heads. I felt weak and slow, like a human with mono. The driver reached me, pulling me off his friend and flinging me with extra force toward our parked car. I smashed into the passenger window butt first—the glass scrapping my thighs and lower back.

  Before I could start wiggling free from the window, the front door of the bar burst open and a flow of angry vampires emerged.

  A word to the wise: Don't break the window belonging to a vampire, be it with a baseball or a body.

  Our attackers quickly dove for their car, with only three of them making it in before the driver took off—leaving six to scamper away by foot. I noticed one of Mikhail's men grab hold of our nearest attacker, while the others managed to escape, though where they would go until sunset, I couldn't imagine.

  Two pairs of hands took me by the arms and yanked me free from the grasp of the broken car window. When I reached the pavement, I tottered for a moment, but flatly refused the strange vampire who tried to pick me up. I'd had enough of that! I looked up to see that my present savior was Samuel, the older-looking vampire that ranked just below Nik. The clear voice of Mikhail took order amongst the growing throng of agitated voices. Samuel guided me down into the darkness of the concrete bunker and into the common room.

  The throng followed us, filling the room to the very brim. I searched for Josh and Nik, feeling uncomfortable next to Nik's frenemy. Other than Samuel, those around me appeared to be complete strangers. I hadn't had time to meet anyone else in the seethe. A blood bag was placed in my hand by an unknown pair of hands. I noticed other vampires drinking straight from the tap—human arms to be precise. I was glad to have a distraction.

  I sipped on it absently while searching the mob and trying to ignore the discomfort in my lacerated legs. Being short, I had little hope of spotting Nik and no hope at all of seeing Josh, who was just as short as me. Just when I was about to give up and head to Nik's room, Mikhail spoke in a loud clear voice, trying to clear the mob. I stayed my ground, Samuel remaining close to me, while others milled toward the double doors. I heard snippets of conversation and noticed many glances in my direction.

  “It used to be peaceful,” one person stated.

  “… She came along… ” another whispered before his eyes flickered in my direction. I noticed them clamp their mouths shut, and scurry toward the doors.

  I closed my eyes and ears to what was going on around me until the thud of the doors shutting broke into my special place. The room was comparatively empty, though nearly twenty people still loitered around the groups of couches. Maybe they were high ranking enough to get away with it. Mikhail was near one of the pool tables. I spotted Nik making his way through the small crowd, Josh close on his heels. One of Nik's arms hung uselessly at his side, obviously still in the process of healing after being crushed between two cars. I handed him my half-finished blood bag. He took it with a nod of thanks and finished it in one quick slurp while Samuel bowed formally before carefully putting some distance between him and Nik.

  “What was that about?” Mikhail snapped, rounding on the three of us.

  “I'd guess Richard's lowlifes,” Nik responded, “but they're not the real issue. We saw Helen and learned that all this has to do with the creation of daywalkers.”

  Mikhail waved his hand to dismiss the notion. “Daywalkers are a thing of myths.”

  “Says the vampire,” I mumbled from my place beside Nik. Mikhail glared at me and I flinched, as was appropriate. It's amazing how much more scary a glare is when you know the person behind it has true power and authority.

  “Daywalkers do not exist. They never have, never will.”

  “Actually… ” said a voice from deep within the crowd milling about the room and gossiping.