by Cheree Alsop
“Man, your dad can cook,” Vicken said when we found comfortable spots on the grass.
I stared at him as he sucked a strand of spaghetti through his teeth. “I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat anything other than blood.”
He nodded. “I usually don’t. Vampires get everything we need from blood. If there’s one thing I can say about the Maes, they had the good quality red stuff.” He stretched, then realized we were both giving him unamused looks. He explained, “Eating food is really just for the flavor, and most things don’t taste nearly as good as fresh blood.” He paused, then said, “Although, if we’re being honest, I do have a stash of Twinkies in my room at Haunted High.”
Dara and I laughed.
“Seriously?” she asked. “That completely ruins the bad boy vampire imagine I have in my head for you.”
Vicken grinned. “Seriously. It’s fun to suck out the filling with my fangs.”
I made a gagging sound. “Gross. Now Twinkies are ruined for me forever.”
“Me, too,” Dara replied. “Although it makes sense that a vampire’s favorite food can be sucked dry.”
Vicken nodded. “Yes, it does.”
“What about Oreos?” I asked.
He shook his head. “The filling is too dry.”
“Reeses?” Dara suggested.
He made a disgusted look. “You don’t know what gross is until you’ve had your fangs stuff up with peanut butter. Trust me. Twinkies are the way to go.”
Dad came out about an hour later. He carried Amelia in his arms and looked exhausted but satisfied.
“Chief Darson took my report and hauled Grayson away. He said we’ll probably be called in to testify, but that’s just standard procedure.” He glanced back at the house and said, “He was concerned about my black eye, but I told him I tripped carrying groceries in and hit my face on the doorframe.” He grinned at me. “Remember when that really happened?”
I laughed at the thought. “You had a shiner for weeks. Everyone thought you got in a fight with the flag football coach!”
His smile faded when he said, “Unfortunately, reality is a bit harsher than that, isn’t it?”
The three of us nodded.
Dad sighed and leaned against the house. “I wish you guys didn’t have to see that. The worst humanity has to offer is pretty ugly.”
I chose not to tell him about the Mythic Labs. By the looks Vicken and Dara shot me, I could tell they agreed it was a good idea.
“Is Mrs. Briscoe okay?” Dara asked.
Dad gave her a grateful smile. “She is. She’s resting right now.” He held Amelia close. “It’s giving me time to catch up with this little one.” Amelia appeared perfectly content to be cuddled at that moment, and Dad was happy to comply.
“Thanks for the spaghetti, Mr. Briscoe. It sure beats the food we get at the Academy,” Vicken said.
Dad shot me a concerned look. “Is the food bad?”
I shook my head. “He just really likes your cooking.”
That made Dad smile. “Well, I’m glad. Eat as much as you can. We have plenty.”
“I’m ready for seconds,” Vicken said. He gave Dara a look. “How about you?”
Dara glanced down at her half-filled bowl, then at me and Dad. “Uh, yeah. I could use more.” She grabbed my empty bowl. “I’ll get yours. Stay and soak in the moonlight. I know you need it.”
Dara was right. I rolled my shoulders and enjoyed the way my ribs hurt less. Even breathing deeply no longer hurt. I hoped if I stayed outside long enough, the claw marks would stop aching entirely. If I had something like Uncle Conrad’s moon room, I would probably already be healed.
The thought of Uncle Conrad made me sad.
“Dad, there’s something I need to tell you,” I began.
Dad seemed to guess that this wouldn’t be a casual conversation. He moved a lawn chair over and sat facing me. Amelia snuggled contentedly in his arms. Her little hand gripped one of Dad’s fingers. He ran his thumb over it as he kept his attention on me.
“What do you need to tell me, Finn?”
I wasn’t sure where to start. Everything I had learned at the Academy about Uncle Conrad was so horrible, and a lot of that I had relayed to Dad so he could understand why there was so much prejudice against me as the only werewolf at Haunted High. There was no way to make light of the situation. I figured saying it straight was best.
“Uncle Conrad’s alive.”
“What!” Dad jerked forward so fast Amelia’s eyes flew open and her face screwed up into the beginnings of a cry.
“I’m sorry; it’s okay,” Dad soothed gently. He rocked in his seat and she settled back down. After watching his face for a moment, her eyes drooped shut again.
I gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry. I wasn’t sure how else to say it.”
“Where is he?” Dad demanded. His voice was soft and singsong in an effort to keep Amelia asleep, but concern was written in every tense line of his body. “If he’s targeting the Academy again, I don’t want you back there, any of you. I will—”
“He helped us save Amelia.”
This time, Dad’s eyes went so wide it was comical.
I fought back a smile. “He’s not what you think at all, Dad. He’s normal.” I thought of the man’s shaggy hair, the garbage collected in his house, and the artillery room in his basement. “Well, not exactly normally,” I amended, “But he means well.”
Dad watched me closely. “Isn’t this the same guy that killed all those students and professors at the Academy?”
I nodded. “Yes, but he was possessed by a demon at the time, and it kept following him so he couldn’t get anyone to help or else the demon would attack them, too.”
It all sounded pretty far-fetched to me, and by the look on Dad’s face, he felt the same way.
I tried a different tactic. “I almost died at the Maes headquarters.” I lowered my gaze and ran my hand across the grass by my leg. “I was shot too many times by those electric bullets. It did something to my heart, and then that horrible Sir Harbrand put a moonstone in my shoulder so I was stuck as a wolf.” I glanced up at Dad. Though I could read how many questions he had in his eyes, he kept listening and didn’t interrupt. “Vicken took me to Conrad’s and when I woke up in his moon room, I felt better, much better. He removed the moonstone so I could be human again. It’s the same stone Vicken and I used to destroy the demon that had been following him.”
Dad was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, I couldn’t read the emotion in his voice. “I’m glad he helped you, but I don’t think you should trust someone who killed people. He should be in prison, Finn.”
I couldn’t deny Dad’s words. “I know.” I sucked in a breath. “But he’s family, and without him, ours wouldn’t be complete.”
Dad looked down at Amelia. “I’m grateful for that.”
“But?” I prompted.
“But your mother didn’t even tell me she had a brother, that’s how bad it was.” His gaze begged me to understand. “We need to respect her wishes, Finn. If she wanted us to know about Conrad, we would have.”
“But she didn’t know he was possessed—” I began.
Dad shook his head. “Please do this for me. Don’t contact your uncle again. I don’t want him here around our children, and if you see him again, you need to call the police, understand?”
There was no give on his face. I knew nothing I said could make him comprehend what I saw in my uncle. I swallowed and nodded. “I understand, Dad.”
Amelia opened her eyes. When she saw that neither of us were her mother, she began to cry.
A fatherly smile crossed Dad’s face. “I’d better change her diaper and get her back to Julianne.”
I nodded and stood. Holding out a hand, I helped him to his feet.
“When you’re ready, let me know and I’ll drive you guys back to school,” Dad said.
“Thank you,” I told him.
I sat back down, then settled
onto my back on the grass. The moonlight felt like a warm blanket and a cool breeze all in one. I turned my head at the sound of the others returning.
“How’d it go?” Vicken asked.
I looked back at the moon. “Not good. He doesn’t want me to associate with Uncle Conrad anymore. He says he’s a murderer.”
“He is,” Dara said as she sat down beside me. She set my bowl of spaghetti on my chest. “But he’s also not.” She shook her head with a sigh. “It’s complicated. I don’t know how anyone else could understand if they hadn’t been there.”
“He’s going to have problems when he gets to Haunted High,” Vicken said.
I nodded. “We’d better get going. Things could get bad really quickly.”
Vicken rose. “As good as the spaghetti is, I’m a bit due for a drink, if you know what I mean.”
Dara rolled her eyes. “We always know what you mean.”
I smiled and led the way back to the kitchen.
Chapter Sixteen
The moment the gate shut behind us, I could tell something was wrong. I took off running and the others followed close behind.
“What’s going on?” Vicken asked.
“Don’t you hear that?” I replied. “Someone’s shouting!”
“I feel it,” Dara said. “There’s lots of anger. We need to hurry!”
The door swung open when we reached the top of the stairs. I ran inside with Dara and Vicken at my heels. I slid to a stop in the entrance corridor.
Students filled the high-ceiling room and professors stood clustered near one end. I pushed through the crowd toward them. Headmistress Wrengold waited at the forefront. The pained look on her face made my steps slow. When a gap parted in the gathering, I saw why.
Professor Briggs held a man pinned to the wall by his throat. It took me a second to recognize who it was. Uncle Conrad had cut his hair and his beard. A few marks where he had nicked himself were covered with bits of toilet paper. He was wearing a suit that looked a few sizes too small, and his hair had as many cowlicks as mine, which made combing it rather difficult. My uncle’s blond hair stuck out in every direction despite whatever mousse he had used to attempt to tame it.
“How dare you come back here after what you did?” Briggs demanded.
Conrad didn’t struggle even though he should have been able to easily beat Briggs with his werewolf strength. The look on Conrad’s face was one of dejected sorrow combined with suffocation at the grip the professor had on his throat.
I shoved through the rest of the students. “Let him go!”
Briggs looked back at me in surprise. “Finn?”
“Let him go,” I repeated. “He’s my uncle. I’ll vouch for him.”
The look of loss and confusion that surfaced on Professor Briggs’ face ate at me. Slowly, as though he had to will himself to do so, Briggs lowered Conrad to the floor.
The professor couldn’t bring himself to look at me when he asked, “Why are you vouching for this filth?”
“Because he saved my life when Vicken, Dara, and I went against the Maes and the Darkest Warlock,” I replied.
“You stopped the Darkest Warlock?” the Headmistress asked.
I pulled the ironwood box from my pocket and handed it to her. “The last piece of Chutka’s heart.” Headmistress Wrengold accepted it, but knew better than to look inside. “It’s the last piece,” she said. Her gaze turned to Conrad. “And you…you helped my students get this?”
It hurt me to see how hard it was for her to talk to him. I couldn’t blame her at all. Conrad had killed her husband. Even if he had been possessed by the Darkest Warlock at the time, it was his hands and his face she no doubt saw when she thought of the Headmaster’s death.
Conrad nodded. His gaze was filled with tears that leaked down his face unashamedly. “I did. But it doesn’t change what happened.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Professor Briggs said in a growl. His hands opened and closed as though he wanted to throttle the werewolf.
Dara walked passed me to stand beside my uncle. “Conrad was possessed by the Darkest Warlock when he attacked the students here. It wasn’t him that killed them.”
“Did he tell you that?” Professor Mellon asked.
“The Darkest Warlock showed me,” I told her. I kept my face expressionless to hide the horror of that moment. “He tricked Conrad into taking the piece of Chutka’s heart, then used it to control him.”
It was clear by the shock on the faces of the professors how much Conrad’s appearance had shaken them. The students around us were alarmed, but I knew it was more from the reaction of the professors than the knowledge of what was happening.
“How did you even survive?” Briggs demanded; his voice was a strangled whisper. “I killed you for what you did. You don’t deserve to live.”
“He does,” I replied firmly. “Just as much as any of us do.”
Conrad closed his eyes and his head hung low. “You don’t have to stand up for me, Finn,” he said in a broken voice.
“Somebody has to,” I replied. I met Headmistress Wrengold’s gaze. The loss she felt was clear. “I’m so sorry about your husband and the others who were killed, but you have to understand that Conrad didn’t do it.”
When I saw that my uncle wasn’t going to defend himself, I held out my hand to Dara. “I need you to help me.”
“For what?” she asked.
“I need to show them, but I can’t do it to so many at the same time. Can you add to my strength?”
Dara nodded and took my hand. “I’ll try.”
“What are you doing?” Professor Mellon demanded. “This can’t work. It’s—”
Her words were cut off when I raised my free hand and shoved the memory toward them. It was harder without direct contact, but using the strength Dara pushed toward me, I felt the memory leave me and flow to them.
The images of Conrad under the Darkest Warlock’s control weren’t pleasant, and I heard the gasps of those who saw the memories. I felt guilty but didn’t let up until I had shown them everything I had seen when I was being held in the Warlock’s grip, including the slaughter at the Academy, Conrad’s forced survival at the hands of the Warlock and his demon followers, and the way the Demon Knight and Wiccan Enforcer had reached for me before the human blood took affect and we were able to kill the Warlock.
When I let go, my head started to pound. I pushed my palms against each side of my skull and said tightly, “It wasn’t his fault.”
Dara set a hand on my arm. A glance at her showed how much the pushing had taken from her. I lowered my hands. “Thank you,” I whispered. She slipped her hand into mine and squeezed it.
“You were under his control, that much is clear, but you chose to let that happen,” Briggs argued. His face was pale from what he had seen. “Zanie, the Headmaster, and everyone else would still be alive if it wasn’t for you.”
Conrad nodded. “That’s why I’m here. I want to stop Chutka the Shambler once and for all. I want to end what I started. Then I’ll leave and never come back, I promise.”
The humility and sorrow in the werewolf’s gaze was unmistakable. Even Briggs appeared uncertain as to how to handle Conrad’s approach.
“Smell him,” I said. “Smell him and tell us if he smells evil. If he does, you’re right, we shouldn’t trust him; but if not, he deserves a chance to help us end this.”
Professor Briggs bowed his head for a moment as if he had been hoping I wouldn’t suggest that.
I looked at the Headmistress. She nodded. “That’s fair. Trace, will you do it?”
The professor didn’t look at me when he walked past. His limp was a brutal reminder of the damage he had barely survived when he attacked Conrad to save my mother. Marks from both werewolf and demon finally made sense. The way that night had impacted Briggs’ entire life showed in the heaviness of his steps.
I watched Conrad tense as though he feared Briggs would attack him again. Instead, the professor paused abou
t a foot away.
I heard him sniff. It wasn’t tentative or meek. No, the professor wanted to know for himself as much as for the rest of us. He leaned in as he breathed out, then sucked in a breath inches from Conrad’s chest. It struck me that the professor smelled the werewolf’s heart, the source of life, and the center of what made Conrad who he was.
The professor stepped back with his eyes closed. He sat silently for a few seconds, then let the breath out. He turned away without meeting Conrad’s eyes again.
“Well?” the Headmistress demanded.
Professor Briggs glanced at me, then away. He straightened and said, “He smells stained, that’s certain, but there is no evil in that man.” The admission seemed to take something from him. I couldn’t tell if disappointment or anger made the professor’s hands clench, but he was quiet for several long seconds before he finally let out a breath and glanced at the Headmistress. “This is your call, Fanny.”
Headmistress Wrengold looked around at the students. “The actions we take at this school impact the rest of mythic kind.” She hesitated, then said, “We can’t punish someone for something beyond their control. As much as I miss my husband, I know you wouldn’t do that of your own accord.” Her voice lowered and she held Conrad’s gaze. “I remember what a good student you were. Rowdy, a bit out of control, perhaps, but good.” A single tear fell down her cheek. “You weren’t a murderer. And I have wrestled with that thought ever since that night. This may not have been the most conventional way to find out what happened,” she said with a glance at me. “But it’s right that we learn the truth.”
The Headmistress looked at each professor in turn. At last, she held Professor Briggs’ gaze until he gave a reluctant, short nod.
“Your assistance is welcome, Conrad Roe. Welcome back,” she said. “We have an empty room in the professors’ wing you can call your own until this matter is resolved.”
Conrad sagged in relief. He grabbed my shoulder and squeezed it. Professor Briggs turned and stalked away through the students without another word. I felt as though I had betrayed him somehow, but I couldn’t take it back.
