“That’s horrible,” I said. “Poor Melvin. But you know? Sometimes things happen and humans can’t take dogs for walks and that’s just how it goes. Professor Radcliffe is doing important research to cure heart disease.”
Isn’t exercise good for your heart? Charlie asked. That’s what Dr. Simone tells me when she takes me for our morning runs.
“Well, yeah, but like I said, Professor Radcliffe is really busy.” I glanced over at my computer and backpack. “Most humans are.” I wondered if Sergeant Byrd had emailed me back yet. Maybe I should have called her instead.
Just then, two teenage Labradors began fighting over a rawhide bone and I had to go intervene. I buried the bone in my backpack so they wouldn’t get it and spent the rest of my work shift keeping them apart by throwing Frisbees in two different directions. I never did manage to pull Melvin out of his funk. I said as much to Professor Radcliffe when he came to pick Melvin up that afternoon.
“Who’s my good boy?” The professor dropped to his knees and gave Melvin a hug and kiss when I brought the poodle out to the lobby for pick-up. “Did you miss me?”
“Melvin’s been acting sluggish today.” I handed over his leash. “I think he might benefit from a walk.”
What are you doing? Melvin barked. I didn’t ask you to say anything.
“You’re probably right.” Professor Radcliffe sighed and lumbered to his feet. “I’ve been working sixty-hour weeks trying to meet my new grant deadline. It’s great that it came through, but keeping this project alive is more than a full-time job.”
“Can you get more grad students to help you? Don’t they get course units or something for working in the lab?” I was grateful I earned credits toward my major for working on The Triton; otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to graduate on time.
“I definitely need more bodies,” Professor Radcliffe agreed. “I just don’t have the manpower to get this done, or woman-power.” He chuckled. “Well, come on, Melvin. Let’s drive home and go for a walk.”
Thanks, Melvin barked at me. But next time, mind your own business.
Geesh. This was why poodles had a bad reputation for being stuck up.
I went back to the romper room, pulled the Labradors apart, and tried to find the Frisbees. Unfortunately, Charlie had chewed one of the purple discs to shreds.
“Charlie!” I scolded. “What got into you?”
He dropped his tail between his legs. Nothing, he barked. I didn’t do anything.
I put the spare Frisbee in my backpack, where it would be safe, and began picking up the ribbons of plastic so the puppies wouldn’t eat them. My phone buzzed as I tossed the bits into the trash. It was an email from Sergeant Byrd. I can meet with you Friday morning at The Triton’s office, she said. See you at seven.
Perfect! Except that if the interview went over, I might miss my Asian-American Lit class. I shrugged. Skipping class this once shouldn’t be a big deal, and a side benefit would be avoiding Joshua. I grinned. Things were going my way.
Kate? Charlie barked. I don’t feel so well. A few seconds later he threw up purple Frisbee. Much better, he said before wandering away to the dog bed by the window.
I sighed and collected the paper towels and disinfectant from the cabinet. Clearly, I had spoken too soon.
Chapter 20
It was Tuesday night and I was amazed I was still awake. My first official day as a Slayer Academy student had left me feeling like a candle burning at both ends. First there was the early morning run—which was no big deal, of course. Then I’d had that meeting with the public liaison of the campus police department. Add on class, working at Barktacular, turning in my newspaper article, and homework, and I was exhausted. Now it was 9 p.m. and we were in the library surrounding a table laden with weapons.
“Normally, Tuesday nights are devoted to vampire history,” said Van. “Due to recent events, I’ve decided to jump further ahead in our weapons curriculum.” Van motioned for us to sit down at the chairs circling the table. “Cassandra and Kate would be dead right now if Cass hadn’t planned ahead and warded herself.” He shot his sister a look. “But your protections weren’t very thorough. I can’t believe you didn’t have a knife on you.”
“Where was I supposed to put it?” Cassandra held up her hands. “A purse?”
“Why not a purse?” Gretchen asked. “I carry a can of hairspray and a lighter in my Marc Jacobs bag at all times.”
“I thought you skipped the movie last Friday,” said Kellogg.
“What movie?” Gretchen asked.
“Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” Leah wrinkled her forehead. “The hairspray trick was one of Buffy’s famous moves.”
“I don’t know anything about dumb movies from the 90s,” said Gretchen. “But I do know vampires hate fire. I watched Jared incinerate one in front of us when we went to Vienna on vacation.”
“That’s right.” Van nodded. “Fire is definitely a way to slay vampires, but it’s always the slayer’s weapon of last resort because it’s so unstable. Let’s look at some safer options, as well as a variety of ways to conceal them.” He stood up and walked over to the hearth. “We’ll start with me. Who can guess what’s on me right now?” Van turned around slowly.
To the untrained eye, Van wore jeans, boots, and a black T-shirt. But I remembered that day, not so long ago, when he’d busted into the kitchen of my house and slayed Mom. It was an image I could never forget, even though I was grateful his quick thinking had spared Mom from becoming a killer.
“You have a watch chain on your belt,” I said without raising my hand. “And there’s a silver dagger in your boot.”
Van removed the chain at his waist. “That’s right.” He snapped it out like it was a nine-link chain whip and knocked a book off its shelf. “Carrying a whip gives me a surprise advantage.” Van rested his boot on the seat of his chair and pulled out the dagger. “This blade is smaller than I’d prefer, but it can still pierce a vampire’s heart.”
“What about your silver comb?” Cassandra asked. “Usually, you have that in your back pocket.”
Van grinned. “Got to look good for my girlfriend, right?” He reached behind him and removed the grooming tool. “When she returns from England, that is.” Van flipped the comb open and held on to the teeth. “When I extend this sucker, it becomes a powerful tool that can singe a vampire’s face or burn them on the throat.”
“I’m not going to wear a wallet chain.” Gretchen wrinkled her nose. “But maybe I could replace my purse strap with something coated in silver.”
“That’s a great idea.” Van sat back down. “In the olden days silver was so expensive that slayers relied on wooden stakes. But now with modern technology, it’s no problem to dip anything we want with a 90 percent silver, 10 percent copper alloy. It’s deadly to vampires but strong enough to hold up to normal wear-and-tear.” Van leaned back in his chair and rested his boots on the table. “See the soles of my shoes? I paint them with silver on the fifteenth of every month. When I kick a vampire in the chest, you better believe he feels it.”
“Doesn’t that make your shoes slippery?” I asked before I could stop myself. As a runner, I was always thinking about traction.
Van shrugged. “No more than they already were considering they have leather soles.” He put his feet back on the ground and rested his elbows on the table. “But the important thing is to think about what protections work best for you. My grandma, for example—”
“She was my oma too,” Cassandra said, interrupting.
“That’s right.” Van nodded his head and continued. “Oma Helsing warded herself with that silver pendant Cassandra’s wearing, two deadly hairpins she always spiked through her bun, and a hip dagger. She could dine at the most boisterous beer garden in Munich and nobody would know she was fully warded.”
“Maybe I could carry something underneath my baseball cap.” Max removed his hat and stared into the brim.
“Maybe…” said Van. “I’m not sure what you cou
ld fit under there, but I appreciate the creative thinking.”
“I want this silver-coated pocketknife.” Leah reached into the center of the table and picked the pink one. “It looks innocent—and practical.”
“I’m with Van,” Kellogg said in his deep voice. “A knife in the boot is a great idea—except for in the summer when it’s hot.”
“There’s no way I’m carrying a purse, but I could wear more silver nano-mesh.” Cassandra reached for a silky tank top.
Everyone had made great suggestions for how to defend themselves but me. I didn’t carry a purse or wear cool boots or silky fabric. My running shorts didn’t even have pockets. All of the first-years stared in my direction, waiting for me to share my brilliant idea for warding myself, but I didn’t have one. I shrugged and splayed my hands out. “I’m lost here. Accessories are not my strong suit.”
“How about a necklace?” Cassandra suggested. “I’m a casual dresser too, but the necklace doesn’t bother me.”
“Running with jewelry drives me nuts,” I said. I didn’t mention that I didn’t own any jewelry. As a single mom, my mother had never had money for luxuries.
“You like wearing your hair up,” said Gretchen. “I’ve never seen you without a ponytail.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Cassandra asked.
Gretchen shrugged and held up her hands. “I don’t know. Maybe she could tie a silver ribbon in there, and nobody would notice.”
“You can’t slay vampires with a ribbon.” Cassandra scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Slayers need weapons with heft.”
“A silver nano-mesh bandana.” Van snapped his fingers. “That’s it! Runners wear bandanas all the time.”
“How’s that better than a ribbon?” Gretchen asked.
“It can do more things,” said Van. “Wrap it around your fists and punching becomes deadly. Tie it around your throat and it wards against choking. It could also protect the jugular vein and carotid artery from a bite.”
“You could tie it around your ponytail too,” said Leah. “I mean, that would look kind of dorky. Maybe it would work better as a headband.”
“Or a bracelet,” said Max. “I could see that.”
“A bandana?” I scratched behind my ear. “I don’t know guys. I guess that could work. I mean, it would be better than nothing.”
“Another option is we could do a complete style overhaul.” Gretchen laced her fingers together and stretched her hands above her head. “I don’t want to brag, but I’d make a great personal shopper.”
“Um… Thanks,” I said. “But I don’t want a makeover. I don’t want to blow my stipend on clothes, anyway.”
“Kate doesn’t need a new look, but she does need warding.” Van pointed at me. “I’m getting you a silver nano-mesh bandana. We’ll start with that. Now let’s move onto a weapon everyone can have on hand from now on.” Van opened up a small box at the center of the table. “Penknives.”
“Now you’re talking,” said Kellogg, who loved pens. I’d noticed that last weekend when he offered to loan me a fountain pen.
“Aren’t those ordinary knives?” Gretchen asked.
“They are and they aren’t.” Van took out a small metal handle and unfolded the blade.
“The word penknife comes from England and means a small, folding knife,” said Kellogg. When everyone stared at him, he blushed. “My mom does calligraphy for wedding invitations. I used to help.”
“Kellogg’s right.” Van wielded the blade. “Originally, penknives were used to sharpen quills. The great thing about them is that when they’re folded in half, you don’t have to worry about cutting skin, leather, or fabric. These are safe enough to carry in your pocket without hurting yourself.” Van demonstrated by closing up the blade and flicking it out again. “But once you open it up, these things can be deadly, which is why in California, it’s illegal to carry ones with blades over two inches long.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s also illegal to stab a vampire in the heart, but I’ve never let that stop me before,” said Cassandra.
“True.” Van nodded. “But it’s always better to avoid law enforcement if we can.” He rustled around the box some more and pulled out a ballpoint pen. “Now this beauty is also a penknife, as in a pen that conceals a deadly weapon.” He pushed the end and unsheathed the blade. “The state of California does consider this a concealed weapon, and it’s right up there with keeping a dagger in your boot or stashing a lipstick knife in your purse.” Van pulled out a shiny gold tube and uncapped it carefully.
“Me want!” Gretchen snatched the box and fished around the contents until she found another lipstick knife.
“Think about warding yourself at different levels of lethalness and the risk of being caught,” said Van. "You should always have protections on your person at all times that could be used to defend yourself. Cassandra’s necklace and keys from last night are the perfect example. But if you’re stalking a target or know that there’s an active coven terrorizing your neighborhood, then you need to better ward yourself, and be prepared to face the risk of being caught with a concealed weapon.”
“And what happens to us if someone catches us slinking around La Jolla with daggers on us?” Max asked. “Then what?”
“Then you keep quiet and call our lawyers.” Van rubbed his jaw. “Helsing Incorporated will come out swinging. We don’t just have contacts with rabbis, imams, priests, and yogis—we also have a number of judges on our side as well.”
“I think I’d rather carry a weapon that isn’t part of the penal code,” said Kellogg, looking nervous. “Even though this penknife is extremely cool.”
“Me too.” I swallowed hard. I’d spent enough time in the system to know that I never wanted to be under the state’s control again.
“That’s understandable for now,” said Van. “You’re only first-years, after all. But tomorrow night I want everyone to come to evening class prepared with three items that can either be painted or dipped in silver that will help defend you against vampires.”
A few minutes later when we climbed the stairs to our room, Gretchen told me not to worry. “My offer of a makeover is still on the table,” she said. “I’ve seen your wardrobe and there’s no way you’re going to be able to silver-coat old T-shirts and jogging shorts.”
I knew she was right, but I didn’t want to admit it. “That’s why Van said I could wear a bandana.”
“And look like you’re camping?” Gretchen snorted. “Nobody wears bandanas every day except cowboys and dogs.”
“Good point.” I cringed. The last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to my canine nature. When we got to our room I crawled up to the top bunk with my backpack and worked on homework while the rest of the first-years made their mad rush to the bathroom to wash up before bed. Once again, my shower slot wasn’t until later. I used the time to finish No-No Boy and jot down notes for the essay that was due Friday. Today was Tuesday, and I needed to write the rough draft tomorrow so I wouldn’t have to rush at the last minute.
As I pawed thought my backpack, I thought about what things I already owned that could help ward me. There weren’t many items to choose from. My running flashlight might work. If I hung on to the wrist straps, I could bash it against a vampire’s face. But would that have stopped Mom’s killer? No way. I needed something better. There was my press notebook. That was important to me and I almost always carried it with me, but it couldn’t protect me against anything, not even the lingering death throes of the free press.
That just left my phone and my computer, neither of which could be weaponized in a physical fashion.
Wait a second. There was one more thing in my backpack that I’d forgotten about. I reached down to the bottom and pulled out the rawhide bone that the Labradors had fought over earlier in the day. I’d taken it away from them and hidden it in my backpack so they wouldn’t see it. It was a foot long and an inch thick. I bet I could coat this in silver, and it would be l
ike a club.
Oooh! What about the Frisbee? I pulled that out of my backpack too. I was great with Frisbees. If I painted the edge with silver, it could be a projectile weapon.
“What are you doing up there?” Gretchen asked me as she came back from the bathroom. She flossed her teeth one by one. “It’s your turn in the shower.”
“You’re right.” I stuffed everything back into my bag and brought it with me as I climbed down the ladder. I set my backpack on top of my dresser and plugged in my phone. That was when I thought of a third item for warding: my stainless steel water bottle with its carabiner top. Fill it with holy water, and it was ready for slay scenes. Dip it in silver and add some more carabiners, and it was a vampire-slaying flail. I had this warding thing down pat after all.
Chapter 21
When I was little, Grandpa used to babysit me while Mom had worked late at the hospital in the NICU. Each time Grandpa had tucked me in at bedtime, I’d beg him to tell me a story. My favorite one was always about our ancestor, Bernard of Montjoux. Rich and from a noble family, Bernard had escaped from an arranged marriage by jumping out the window. Legend said that angels had caught him and carried him safely to Earth, but Grandpa had told me it had really been bird shifters who’d rescued him. Bernard, of course, had been a canine shifter, and the bird shifters had known this. While the Catholic Church had rooted out anyone they deemed “otherworldly,” Bernard had hid amongst their midst, founding a monastery as well as famous hostels in the Italian and Swiss Alps. Yes, he’d rescued French and German pilgrims on their way to Rome who had become trapped in avalanche zones, but Bernard’s true mission had been to seek out shifters and save them from persecution.
“Bernard used his human senses—and his canine abilities—to prevent genocide,” Grandpa had told me. “He’s the patron saint of hiking, skiing, and mountaineering.”
Later, when I’d entered middle school and joined the cross-country team, I’d wished that Saint Bernard could have also been the patron saint of runners, but that honor went to Saint Sebastian. Still, I’d fallen into the habit of beginning every race with a silent prayer to my ancestor to watch over me and keep me safe.
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