by Trisha Telep
“Sorry about your friend.”
“Yeah,” he said, gazing out at some point on the horizon. “Come on. Let’s get outta this heat.”
The tagger, whose name, she learned, was Antonio, sweet-talked an aquarium volunteer into letting them inside for free. They took refuge in the cool damp, wandering through the maze of watery exhibits full of exotic creatures, stopping in a secluded spot near the moray eel. Antonio leaned against the glass. The blue-gray light turned him ghostly pale.
“Remember I told you about my cousin, Sabrina? Right before she died, she called me up scared out of her mind and said she’d seen some weird shit going down at Angelus. Bad shit.”
“Like what?”
He shook his head. “She wouldn’t tell me over the phone. But she mailed me this postcard right before she disappeared.” He pulled a card out of his back pocket. It was the Angelus House insignia. Across the front in a shaky script were the words los vampiros. “Two days later, she was dead. They killed her.” Lauren started to object, and he held up a finger. “Wait. Just let me tell you about Isaiah now. Isaiah ran with a crew out of the Farragut. He liked to smoke, deal a little weed, nothing major, only he gets caught for a second time—he’s eighteen now—and they give him a choice: Angelus House or time. So he joins up, does the program, but he doesn’t take it serious. He’s just going along till he can get out.”
Lauren felt hate rising. “Nice.”
“One night, he comes rolling back into the houses, smokes a blunt with his boys, and when he’s all loose, he starts telling them how he got tapped for something big, something secret, like the damn Mafia. He told ’em that Angelus wasn’t just a twelve-step program. They got a secret thirteenth step.”
Lauren remembered the tweaker who’d broken in that night. He mentioned a thirteenth step, but he was out of his mind. “What do you mean?”
“Isaiah said once you were tapped, you got the mark to prove your commitment to Angelus House—the tattoo they all wear. Then you had twenty-four hours to prove yourself on a mission, and once you did that, you were untouchable. A bona fide immortal.” He paused. “A vampire.”
The eel bumped against the glass, startling Lauren. “This is, like, crazier than crazy,” she said.
“Yeah? How do you explain what happened to that guy Brian?”
“The cops say somebody at the Farragut killed him.”
“That crazy bastard burned up in the sun.”
“You know this.”
He shrugged. “I heard it.”
“And that makes it automatically true.”
“You want to hear this shit or not?”
She crossed her arms. “Whatever. You asked me down here.”
“And you came,” he offered. “Think about it: If you wanted to work up a crew of vampires without being noticed, where would you do it? You’d get the people no one wants to be bothered with, the lost causes who already got a craving they can’t stop on their own so they’re, like, ripe for whatever you throwing at ’em. And then you’d make up some bullshit turf war and blame it on a whole bunch of other people nobody wants to be bothered with, let them take the fall.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “Okay. Backing up. You said they had twenty-four hours after they got the mark to do a mission. What happens if they don’t?”
He lowered his voice to a strained whisper. “It’s like the worst withdrawal symptoms ever, and they never stop. You lose your mind.”
And again Lauren thought of the man who’d bashed his head into the glass of the filing room door.
“So either you do what they want you to do, or they kill you one way or another,” Antonio continued. “Isaiah said he saw it happen to this other cat, and that’s why he was out of there the next morning without getting inked. That’s why he went into hiding. But they got to him anyway. Just like Sabrina. And the worst part is, nobody knows. People are so blind they’ll believe whatever they’re told. Gang war.” He spat. “My Puerto Rican ass.”
The eel slithered along the bottom of the dark floor of the tank, back and forth. Lauren watched it searching for prey, and something hard and angry twisted in her guts. This guy and his bullshit theories was taking away the only good thing she’d had in three years.
“So let me get this straight. Some former drug dealer gets high and starts making up stories about vampires and you take it as gospel? You’re such an idiot. He played you. He probably owed money to somebody. Listen, my sister used to tell me all kinds of crazy lies, and I believed her because I didn’t want to know the truth. She’s still pulling shit on my parents all the time. So excuse me if I’m all out of gullibility. Go play your games with somebody else.”
She turned and threaded her way through a sea of yellow-shirted camp kids. Antonio ran after her. “Hold up. Just answer me this, okay? They hired you to run errands, right? Because they needed somebody who could go out during the daylight hours for them. Tell me—you ever go out during the day with your boyfriend?”
Lauren realized they had only gone out after dark. “He doesn’t get off shift until nighttime.”
Antonio nodded, a cruel smirk pulling at his lips. “Yeah. I’m sure that’s it.” He handed her his phone. “Here. Call him up. Tell him to come meet us out here at Coney in the nice warm sun. Hey, if he shows up, I will personally go to Nathan’s and buy the hot dogs. Oh wait—he probably doesn’t eat, either.”
A sense of unease pricked at Lauren. She’d never once seen Johannes eat. Not Alex either. Not Rakim. Only the newbies. But that didn’t mean anything, did it?
She shoved his phone at him. “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you leave me alone?”
Lauren walked the long way to the train letting the sun bake into her skin. She watched the people bobbing in the gentle surf, the bright afternoon turning the sand into little prisms, and thought about what Antonio said. Vampires. That was completely insane. On the way to the train, Lauren texted Johannes. CN U MEET ME FOR PIZZA @ 4:00? She waited for his response. It never came.
Ten
THEY WERE CROSSING Atlantic Avenue on the way to the movie theater when Johannes nudged her with his elbow. “What’s up? You’re pretty quiet.”
“It’s nothing.”
He stopped walking and turned her to face him. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“It’s just … you never texted me back.”
“God. I’m so sorry, Lauren. We had this crazy long meeting with some suits today about the go-head with the building plans for the Navy Yards, and I couldn’t get away. It was so boring I wanted to hang myself.”
“Oh. Sure. Okay.”
“That is not an okay face,” he said, tilting her chin up so that she could look into those dark eyes.
Lauren forced herself to look away. “Okay. Um.” She laughed uneasily. “This is so incredibly crazy that I sort of hate myself. But you remember that first night—the guy tagging the building? Well, he left me a note today.”
Johannes’s eyes widened. “What? Are you okay?”
“Yes. Totally fine, but I met up with him, which I know was stupid, but he’s got this insane idea that you and everybody at Angelus House are … vampires.”
Johannes cocked one eyebrow in an amused fashion.
“Okay. Forget I said anything. Totally stupid.”
“Um, you think? Maybe just a little bit?” He lost his grin. “What’s creeping me out more is that he’s been watching you. Especially with all the murders going on. I wish I knew who this guy was.”
Lauren hesitated for a second, but Johannes’s hand was rubbing her back, and she found she wanted his protection after all. “His name is Antonio Rodriguez. His cousin Sabrina was in your program for a while. He said she died.”
Johannes’s face darkened. “Antonio. I should have known.”
“You know him?”
“Yeah. I do. He’s always blamed us for the loss of Sabrina. She was a tough case, kind of like your sister. Hard to save.”
Lauren fli
nched at the mention of Carla. “What happened?”
“Antonio happened. Sabrina was ninety days clean—she’d been through almost all her steps—and against our advice, Antonio signed her out. Two days later, they found her at the Farragut Houses. Heroin overdose.”
“He told me she was drained of blood, like those others.”
Johannes shook his head. “Heroin. If he’d let her complete the program, she might have made it.” Johannes looked right into Lauren’s eyes and she felt foolish, like a kid who’d been pranked. “Did you know he’s obsessed with vampires? I mean obsessed. He visits all these sites on the Internet, chat rooms. Sick stuff. Sabrina said he was part of a crew that used to call themselves Los Vampiros, and they would freak people out by pretending to be the undead. It was a gang thing. To prove your loyalty, you had to do something pretty hardcore.”
“How hardcore?”
“Like maybe kill somebody. I don’t like this.” He pulled her close and kissed her head. Lauren’s felt shaky. She’d spent the afternoon talking to the guy without once realizing how dangerous he might be. “Lauren, please be careful. I don’t know what Antonio’s mixed up in these days, or how far his crazy obsession has gone. If you see him again, you should call the police. Or if you don’t want to do that, you can call me. I promise to keep you safe.” He kissed her long and slow. “You really want to go see that movie?” That easy grin was back, making Lauren sweat.
She shook her head.
“Me either,” he said.
He took her back to Angelus House, leading her up to the top floors where the staff lived. She’d been up here very rarely as there wasn’t much to see except dorm rooms, and all the action happened down in the common areas. Johannes stopped before one of the doors and pushed it open. “Come on in.”
“This is your room?” Lauren wasn’t sure why she asked except that it seemed so nondescript. There were no photos, no mementos, nothing except the Angelus House insignia poster, a chest of drawers, and a twin bed beside a small table with a banker’s lamp.
“Do you trust me?” He took her face in his palms and looked into her eyes. “Because I need for you to trust me, and sometimes I feel like you don’t.”
“I do,” Lauren whispered. “It’s just—I’ve learned a lot about not trusting.”
Lauren could feel tears welling up and suddenly, Johannes was kissing her, and she didn’t care about anything else. He lay her down on the too-soft mattress, and she welcomed the weight of him as he nudged her thighs open with his own. She couldn’t escape if she wanted to, and there was a sick little thrill in that kind of surrender.
“Is this okay?” Johannes whispered, planting small kisses down her neck.
“Yes,” she moaned.
She kissed him hard, and he matched her intensity, gripping handfuls of her hair. He moved against her slowly but deliberately, and she arched to meet him.
“God. Lauren,” he moaned. “You feel so good.”
In one quick move, he yanked off his shirt exposing the Angelus tattoo in the center of his beautiful chest. Lauren reached out to touch it, and he sucked her fingers, making her shiver. He lay down beside Lauren and slid his fingers under the waistband of her cargo pants, moving down, touching her in a place that made her gasp.
“Yeah? You like that?” he purred, and Lauren could only gasp again. “I like making you feel good.” His thumb made circles, and his mouth was on her neck, kissing, sucking hard. He nicked her with his teeth and she flinched. “Sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Sorry.”
He buried his face in her hair, his thumb became more insistent, the pleasure building till Lauren’s body shook and shuddered from the force of it.
“I love you,” he whispered, and Lauren had never been happier.
Eleven
LAUREN WOKE TO an empty bed. It was late for her, around two in the afternoon. She showered and dressed and headed down to the common room where the TV weatherman promised a record high of one hundred and two with an absurd amount of humidity. Lauren groaned even though inside the Angelus House, it was dark and cool as the earth.
She plopped down next to Alex on the ratty old couch. “You want to go out for a walk or an ice cream?”
Alex grimaced. “Ugh. Too hot for me.”
They ever go out in the daylight? She heard Antonio’s voice in her head. But he was a thug and what he said was crazy; she would prove it. “Come on. I don’t want to go by myself,” Lauren said, tugging on Alex’s limp arm. “Just five minutes.”
“I can’t leave,” Alex insisted, sliding out of her grip. “I’m on duty.”
“What could happen in five minutes?” Lauren taunted.
Alex’s gaze was steely. “A lot.”
Lauren got that same prickly feeling, but then Alex was smiling and nuzzling against her in that affectionate, hippie girl way. “I’m sorry, Lauren-a-manjaro. I wish I could go with you. Look, here’s ten bucks. I’ll take a cherry ice and get yourself whatever you want.”
“Sure,” Lauren said, staring at the tattoo on the back of Alex’s neck.
On the way out, she found Dana sitting alone on the front steps, her face turned toward the sun. Rivulets of sweat ran down her neck. The heat was beastly.
“God. Aren’t you dying out here?”
The girl shook her head. “I just wanted to soak it up while I can, you know?”
“I guess,” Lauren said. She couldn’t wait for the first cold snap to blow through.
“Tomorrow it will all be different,” Dana said sadly.
“What’s happening tomorrow?”
Dana lifted up her hair, showing off a brand-new tattoo on her left shoulder blade. It was still caked in dried blood. “Got the mark today. I’m fully committed to the program now. I’m ready.”
“Right,” Lauren said, her heartbeat quickening. “So you’re ready for the thirteenth step.”
“Exactly,” she said smiling. “The first one’s the hardest, but after that, it gets easier and easier. Anyway, I guess it’s like they say—you have to be willing to commit.”
“Dana—” Lauren started, but there was a scratching and then a pounding at the tinted window behind them.
“I think they’re looking for me,” the girl said. With a backward glance at the blazing sun, she went in.
Lauren didn’t return with the ices. She spent the night in her old room at home. Her parents had gone to Eagle Feather, but the super let her in with his key, and she went to work right away researching vampire lore on the Internet, locking all the doors and windows, hanging garlic from them, hoping she was wrong. Johannes sent her a text at ten and another well after midnight—WHERE R U? and EVERYTHING OK?
CARLA TROUBLE, she texted back. SEE U MONDAY. She added x’s and o’s and willed herself not to cry.
When the first pink claw marks of dawn faded into a pale blue morning, Lauren headed out. She looked down to see the day’s papers bundled in string. The front page showed a picture of Antonio. JUSTICE SERVED: ANGELUS HOUSE KILLER KILLED BY HIS OWN. Lauren ripped off the string and turned inside to the story. Antonio Rodriguez of the Farragut Houses had been found down by the Navy Yards with his chest torn open, his head ripped off, and every drop of his blood drained. An anonymous source claimed he was a member of the notorious Los Vampiros gang, rumored to be responsible for the city’s spate of murders.
She ran for the subway.
Twelve
AT YORK, SHE got off and walked through the sleepy neighborhood up the cobblestone street to the top of the hill overlooking the Navy Yards. She let herself into Angelus House. It was eerily quiet, cool and dark as always with that slightly earthen smell she’d always attributed to the AC. Carefully and quickly, she made her way to the back, to the small hallway that housed the freight elevator. Rakim had said it was the only way down to the basement. It had a metal gate that had to be closed first. Lauren pushed the round B. It lit up, and then she was moving down into the bowels of the old hospital.
The do
ors opened onto utter darkness, and for a moment, Lauren thought about going upstairs to her desk and pretending there was no basement, no mysterious detox floor, nothing going on at all. She could file papers, read her book, buy juice for the newbies, and go on loving Johannes. But she had to know. She stepped out, letting the elevator doors close behind her, and then she was tiptoeing through the dark. Her knee banged against something hard, and she stifled a scream with her fist. Carefully, she reached down and felt. It was wood—a table? Too low. A bed frame? She wished she’d brought a flashlight. The damp earth odor was stronger here; it filled her nostrils and made her want to sneeze, but she didn’t dare. Instead, she stood perfectly still, allowing her eyes to adjust. Soon, she could make out long, rectangular shapes in the dark that were oddly familiar. Coffins. Her breathing quickened as she remembered the lumber and mulch she’d hauled back from the home improvement center earlier in the summer. As gently as possible, she nudged aside the top to one of the coffins and squatted low, putting her face even with the opening. Her eyes started at the bottom, where she could make out the glint of Alex’s ankle charm bracelet; her gaze traveled up to a moonlight-pale hand with impossibly long fingers topped by razor-sharp curved nails. She bit off the cry in her throat and half-stumbled back toward the freight elevator, which wouldn’t come though she pressed the button furiously. She turned a corner, looking for a way out and found herself in another room of coffins, their new pine tops shining in the darkness, but at the far end, she could just make out a pair of double doors. Slowly, she inched her way through the room, her shaking breath the only sound among the sleeping undead. She didn’t see the coffin until it was too late, and she flew over it, knocking into two others and sending their covers to the floor with a loud thunk. Gurgling animal noises filled the dark. And then one of the things burst up from the coffin. It was gray-white as the moon, long and barrel-chested with enormous, leathery wings, a mouthful of pointed teeth and yellow eyes that stared down at her in contempt. Then it threw back its head and shrieked in alarm, and Lauren was up and running. She burst through the doors into the flickering light of the detox floor. Behind her she could hear the thing screeching, awakening the others. She tried door after door trying to find one that would open. Down at the far end of the hall, she found a knob that turned, and she threw herself inside, locking the door.
